#Even when Needles rarely compliments people

[simm-mouse]

Take another art dump, but I'm actually trying to be more active on here, I'm sorry I disappeared. July was weird for real life

Some Tymo(Emo Tycho)

Some green beans👽👽✨✨✨

And some very late pride month art👀👀

I didn't do all of them like I wanted to, but I did have personal canon sexual and gender identities for Atom Beaker, and Needles

[briarberrythornedhart]

Well... That’s Settled

Cw: none. Just fluff and eventual romance

It’s Saturday. A rare Saturday where you and your co-worker Eddie both aren’t working.

You knock on Eddie’s front door. Waiting a bit and hearing nothing. You knock again.

You hear “Coming. Shit! Fuck! Coming!! shit shit… Hold your gaddam horses” from Eddie— kinda muffled.

He opens the door with a scowl … and a glint catches your eye. A sewing needle in his mouth. He pulls the needle from between his teeth, it is trailing black thread. His scowl is softening into mild surprise.

“Oh it’s you??” He says

“It’s me. You…are... sewing ?? something?”

“Got a new patch for my vest at the show last weekend.” He holds up a black patch that says ‘Sloppy Seconds’ on it. “What’s up?”

“You said you were off today, and you could help me??? But your phone was busy… and probably I should have waited but it’s nearly eleven…”

“Nono, it’s cool, c’mon in.” He holds the screen door for you with his palm, fingers spread wide. “You are always welcome at Casa Munson. Didn’t think you’d take me up on my offer s’all.”

“But, Eddie Munson, you’re my only hope.” You did your best Leia Organa and Eddie grinned at you in acknowledgement of your effort.

“So you’re saying I’m a space wizard??” He fished for the compliment with typical cocky swagger.

“I’ve seen you use the Force on people with weak minds.” You wiggled your fingers in the air.

“When?? When have I ever done that?” He laughed.

You imitated Eddie’s midwestern accent that had that Munson Family brand Tennessee honey drizzled on it. “Golly, Officer, I didn’t think I was speeding. Oh - Keith, you said you didn’t want me to close on Tuesday, you personally want to walk the deposit to the bank, remember. Nah, you don’t need to roll to detect cursed objects right now after picking up that innocent looking pendant ...?”

“Well.. my magic doesn’t work on you, anyway.” He wryly pursed his lips.

It does though. It always does.

You watch him put the needle into a pin cushion that looked like a tomato and he laid his project aside.

He bends over the couch arm to do this and you can see the bit of un-inked skin above his gray boxers where his shirt rides up and his jeans ride low.

You can see the nice curve of his butt where one of the pockets is torn and his boxers show there too and you wish to hell he wanted you back.

You sigh. That would be so nice.

He stands and looks at you with his eyebrows raised in query. “What??”

So you change the subject. “Why don’t you put patches on your jeans? They are rapidly becoming more hole than fabric. Denim isn’t supposed to be... lace.”

He grins again. “That’s just air conditioning for my knees. S’very practical.”

“Including the hole on your left ass cheek - that’s for air circulation too, is it?”

His eyes widened. He runs his hand down his butt, fingers dipping into the hole. “Shiiiiit, why didn’t anyone tell me??”

“Presumably because we were all enjoying it?” You suggested playfully.

His eyes snap to yours. “Enjoying what? Me, looking like a total dork??”

“It’s called deshibile - it’s very fashionable.”

“What are you even talking about?? You're so... aggravating sometimes, I swear to gawd!” Eddie jogs down the hallway and you follow. He tries to get a good look in the mirror by his custom Warlock - she’s so pretty - but he calls her ‘Sweetheart’ - lucky tart. “ How long were these jeans ripped to hell on my ass??!! I only have two pairs - so - you saw!! You totally saw this yesterday and you didn’t even say....”

“Your boxers are keeping you decent - you just have a ripped pocket. It’s fine - You look fine. Why do you care? Keith doesn’t care about ripped pants - like - you wear shoes to work... so you are one up on Argyle with the flip flops. Now if you went commando, that might be a problem.”

He is running his hands through his hair. “I can’t afford more jeans right now... fuuuuuuck.”

“You have sewing supplies right here - You just need another patch, Eddie - from older jeans or an old t-shirt... it would barely show - until our next pay day and then we could go thrifting together? If you want?”

“Yeah.... yeah... sorry - just went to that concert and I shouldn’t have because we needed a plumber last week and money’s tight.”

You nodded. Money is always tight. The job pays you both very little. You know why you stay (to see Eddie) - but you don’t know why Eddie doesn’t get a better job.

“Hey - I’m sorry, I said you were ‘aggravating’, man, I-I didn't mean it - I mean, you do Drive Me Insane, but I guess I kinda like it... how we joke around.” Eddie leaned his forehead into the mirror - closed his eyes. “You’re a good friend, you know?? And... and I promised to help you out. But, I kinda forget what with??”

“Because I didn’t say. Because it’s a secret.”

“Oh! Covert mission, huh?” Eddie turned with - well it wasn’t elegance but it was beautiful just the same. He clapped his large hands together and rubbed them up and down with glee. “What are we up to?”

“I’m making a mix tape. For a guy I like. And I know you have the perfect set up to record on.”

“For a guy??”

“Yeah - I’m into them - dudes - in general.” you snarked. “Girls aren’t out of the question , but I do tend to go for...”

“I know-ah. I mean. You wanna use my equipment - and my music, I assume??”

“Some of it.” You nodded at Eddie. Eddie has a great music collection.

“My stuff... To court some loser...”

“He’s not a loser. He’s perfect.”

“No guy is perfect, I guarantee you.”

“He’s handsome. He’s kind and generous. He’s funny... on purpose. He has these lips...”

“Stop - I do not want to hear about his lips. Where’d you even meet him? At...”

“You know - around Hawkins...” You cut him off before he can ask ‘at work?’ and you’d have to come up with some crazy lie.

“You sure he’s single?? Maybe he’s dating half of Hawkins?? Maybe he’s gay?” Eddie is not looking at you - he’s flipping through records in a milk crate.

“Maybe he is all of those things - or he’s not into me at all - or maybe he’s not into anyone - that’s why I’m making the mix. I can tell him I like him in the j-card and in the musical subtext - if he’s not into me and can never be - we can just be friends. I’ll die a little, but that’s okay - every day we die a little more, right?”

“Morbid. But, accurate.” Eddie turned back to you. “Okay - I said I’d help you and I’ll help you - but we are making two mix tapes. One to express your interest in this guy - who probably doesn’t deserve you by the way. And one for you. Just for you. Deal?” He asks this like he’s the one convincing you of this project. Your idea - your excuse to spend time with Eddie - as much as you can finagle.

“Deal.” You go to shake on it and Eddie stops and spits in his right palm first. He checks you to see if you are grossed out. By his saliva?? No. Opposite really. “So - not a blood pact?” You kid and spit as delicately as you can into your palm - hold it out for him as brave as you can be. He grins, shakes it. You try not to think about your spit combined on your hands. Fail utterly at that.

“Okay... tell me about this Paragon of ‘Manly’ Virtue...” Eddie rolls his eyes.

“You said you didn’t want to hear about his kissable lips, his pretty eyes, his nice ass...”

“God! Stop - I didn’t know you were so fucking horny!! I meant his musical tastes.”

“He’s beautiful and I am an appreciator of his physical attributes. He’s not just a piece of meat though... he’s also got a great voice... and he’s very clever...”

“And you’re what - gonna only put really horned up slutty music on this tape and probably sleep with him immediately - you Can’t!! I mean, don’t - he might have crabs or something. You gotta be more careful.”

“He’s probably not going to like me back, but if he asks me on a date I’ll be sure to ask him point blank if he has crabs, first thing.”

“I’m just sayin’ maybe get to know him a bit before you offer your... body.”

“Okay - noted - Hmmm - ‘Horned up Slut Music’ What’s that filed under in your milk crates system ‘H’ or “S’?? Wait - did you just mean SKA?”

Eddie pushed into your shoulder with his, playfully, and was unusually quiet for a while. Picking up records and tapes and showing you song titles. Gently steering you away from anything that sounded like a Direct proposition for sex with the ‘mystery guy’.

Finally stopping you. “Now you’ve got 97 minutes of music, you’ve got to edit.”

“I thought we were making two mix tapes?’

“I’m making the second one. You have enough on your mind with mr. wonderful. When he breaks your heart you can listen to my mix and cry on my shoulder, and I’ll go kick his ass sideways.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I wouldn’t ask you to do that.” You looked down in your lap.

Eddie put two fingers under your chin and lifted your eyes to meet his. “Is he...like... is he so much better than me?” His voice broke a bit on the end.

You couldn’t speak - why wouldn’t words come out??

Eddie sounded put out but his eyes weren’t mad. “Like, other than the lips and the ass... or whatever - what’s he got that I don’t?”

You kinda... launched into his lap. You absolutely kissed him with tongue right off.

Eddie scootched like a crab into his bed - pulling you with him. Kissing you back.

“Am I a close second? You could settle for me, I’m kinda okay with that, considering the kiss you just laid on me didn’t feel like second prize.” Eddie looked so sweetly befuddled. “I do not have crabs and I’m not secretly dating anyone and I’ve been into you since day one.”

“Eddie, you are the guy.”

He blinked.

“You made me a mix?” Eddie’s pretty eyes got a twinkle in them. “But the messaging is so vague - how will I know if you are really attracted to me when you didn’t use any music to indicate a deep lust for my person.”

“You’ll just have to read the j-card.” You teased back.

[thaisibir]

SEES members react to getting anesthesia: headcanons from a real anesthetist

(Go here for post on Phantom Thieves react to getting anesthesia)

Makoto: the guy who secretly smokes weed, chews through roc every 15 minutes, needs over 1.5 MAC maintenance sevo. (Laymans terms translation: smokes weed so he burns through a ton of muscle paralytic agent (rocuronium) and anesthetic gas (sevoflurane) needed to keep him relaxed and deeply asleep)

Yukari: had her hair and nails done the day before surgery, wakes up from anesthesia asking if she said anything dumb and apologizing if she did. (Complimenting patients on their nice nails is part of my small talk to attempt calming nerves when they're rolled into the OR)

Junpei: would try to fight anesthesia and count past 10 seconds, tries to cheat by counting fast (he loses anyway) (It's so amusing when patients try to challenge anesthesia. Some put up a good fight, but in the end, anesthesia always wins.)

Mitsuru: takes 300 mg of propofol on anesthetic induction, scares the shit out of OR staff when she still reaches for the airway device as the anesthetist tries to insert it. (Redheads tend to need more anesthetic than average. For context, the induction/knock-you-out dose for propofol is about 2 mg/kg. For frail old people, I halve that dose. Most people don't need more than a single 20 ml syringe/200 mg of propofol. I push 200 mg for big tall football/basketball guys. I've seen redheads take at least 2, even 3 syringes. Mitsuru would be a tough one to knock out.)

Akihiko: the extremely athletic ASA 1 guy with baseline bradycardia bordering on need for anticholinergics. Will most definitely wake up swinging fists and knocking out teeth and trying to jump out of the bed if he didn't get enough sedative on board beforehand. (Healthy athletic young patients (HAY patients, I call them) tend to wake up violently and delirious from anesthetic gas. To mitigate this, there's a sedative called precedex that helps smooth out emergence from anesthesia. Good to give for little kids, teenage girls, and big strong-looking guys. As soon as I see I'll be getting an Akihiko/HAY type patient for an upcoming case, I already know to draw up and dilute precedex to have at the ready.)

Fuuka: actually a very pleasant and compliant patient, but has family history of malignant hyperthermia and allergies to practically everything, apologizes for all the trouble. (Malignant hyperthermia is a very rare, but very deadly anesthetic complication if not treated promptly. Many anesthesia providers go through their entire careers without ever seeing MH, but we're trained to know what to do if it ever happens. Anesthetic gases and a muscle paralytic agent called succinylcholine are MH triggers. The anesthesia machine must be completely removed of the gas canisters and flushed through with high flow oxygen for an hour or so, to really make sure none of that stuff is exposed to an MH patient. I like the idea of Fuuka turning out to be a patient requiring an extensive anesthetic plan when she totally wouldn't mean to)

Ken: the rare kid who's cool with getting an IV in preop. (Pediatric patients typically do not get an IV placed before being rolled back to the OR, as most kids are terrified of needles. Induction of anesthesia in the OR must instead be achieved by delivering high flow anesthetic gas through a mask. Once the kid is unconscious from the gas, then an IV can be placed to give medications throughout a case intravenously. Amada seems like the type to be fine with getting an IV placed when he's awake because that's what adults have to do.)

Aigis: is a robot, physically can't process anesthesia. (Probably goes without saying)

Koromaru: Mitsuru or Akihiko, as the oldest members of SEES, act as guardians to sign anesthesia consent forms. Holds out his front leg and rolls over to offer his chest so staff can put on the blood pressure cuff and EKG stickers. Adored by the vet and vet techs for being so smart and adorable.

Shinjiro: the guy you think would smoke weed and drink a lot but actually has a history of post-operative nausea and vomiting (PONV) and prolonged emergence from general anesthesia. (Somehow I like the idea of Shinjiro turning out to be a delicate flower when it comes to anesthetic requirements)

[qyxzun]

𝟒 ┆𝕳𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐃.

𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐆. 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐕𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐋𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄; it was complicated yet easy at the same time. He remembered how his efforts were recognized when he was accepted into Brooklyn Visions Academy, the same private boarding school his parents had always wished for their gifted son to attend. Though it also meant changing schools and trying to fit in, Miles knew it was for the best.

His luggage was packed, and his headphones hung on his shoulders while he wore BVA's clean uniform. It was a busy day for his family, with his mom having another morning shift at the hospital while his dad was still training as a cop. Even though he was almost running late, Miles could remember how Jefferson drove him to school just like when he was still a kid.

His first days weren't easy knowing he was separated from his family or friends, with only students and teachers around. Miles struggled to meet new people since he was considered a new student coming from a public school. It felt like his peers were looking down on him despite his excellent talent for getting into a boarding school such as BVA, even months after the entrance exam. What weighed him down more was the fact he was forbidden to see his close ones after he started to share a dorm with the only person he knew in the entire school, Ganke. He never doubted he'd be a loner for the rest of his school year but seeing how the others blended in with their other friends made him feel like he was falling behind them...

A few weeks later, a private technological campus that sponsored BVA's academic decathlon and funded its' studies began scouting out internships for only a tiny number of gifted kids. It was rare to receive such a choice yet surprisingly, one of the people who were handed out an internship was Miles himself. He was puzzled, wondering if it was false information until his professor confirmed it wasn't. He didn't seem so excited since he always thought Physics was an easy subject but he still accepted the internship.

He remembered the first moments of the tour around the Alchemax. While passing by numerous laboratories, a figure with H/C hair caught his attention in one of them. She had a lab coat that matched his and the scientists working in the research company, distinct E/C eyes that Miles couldn't even remember staring at for so long. He saw her once in a lab surrounded by various testing devices and machines yet all he could do was watch and follow his guide around the Alchemax. His feet seemed to be moving on their own after he ignored his tour guide and stepped inside your lab.

You were paying attention to the small test subject in front of you with an earbud blasting your favourite music into your ear until you flinched when someone touched your shoulder. You almost dropped the needle you were holding if it weren't for the person catching it swiftly. You turned around and saw him holding the syringe out for you.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you.." He said before gently placing the sharp tool on your desk with care. He had black braids and glasses that he tucked into his lab coat. He cleared his throat, a little nervous.

"It's okay," you responded with a half-smile. He noticed how your pretty eyes trailed down underneath his lab coat before you noticed Brooklyn Visions Academy's logo on his uniform.

"Oh cool, you're a BVA student too?" You asked to which he seemed to nod eagerly.

"Yeah.. was offered an internship so I figured why not join?" Miles responded before you hummed. He couldn't help but also notice the slight height difference between the two of you. Maybe if you jumped a little you would've matched his height but here you were, with your E/C orbs just looking up to his brown ones.

"Oh that's cool, you must be really smart at science.." you complimented while he nodded and shortly hummed out a 'thank you'. He was about to ask how you a question until his guide suddenly appeared, tapping her finger on your semi-transparent glass walls. You both looked at her at the same time before she recognized you and flashed you a smile.

"I see our new recruit is making friends already!" Dr. Olivia spoke as she entered the room and patted Miles' shoulder. She lifted her glasses to her voluminous hair before she continued. "How's Miles like Y/N?" She eagerly asked, looking down at you. Y/N, it was a nice name, Miles could admit.

"Oh— we just met, Doc.." you responded before the scientist hummed and nodded.

"I'm sure the two of you would get along fineeee. Besides, the two of you go to BVA," Olivia reassured and smiled. After that, she turned her focus back to him and let go of his shoulder.

"Alright Morales, time to continue the tour," She said before walking out of your lab, expecting the teen to follow her.

Miles' expression seemed to dim yet after looking back at you, his mouth turned to a smirk. "See you around Y/N?" He suggested, your name slipping out his lips felt new and sweet. He saw how your natural smile beamed before you spoke.

"Yeah, good luck with Liv Miles," you responded, leaning your head against your palm on the desk.

If it weren't for Olivia calling him again, Miles would've forgotten and stayed beside you. He left with his hands in his pockets before closing your lab door gently. Y/N, what a pretty name.

After a few days into the internship, you and Miles began working together on the new project called the Super Collider with Dr. Olivia and a few other scientists. The other interned students from BVA unfortunately had to quit after the company chose their new assistants for the project which was to both of your surprises, you and Miles.

Miles could admit that he was chosen through luck and effort. But you? He was beyond impressed by your work. Before the selection, he watched and learned how efficient and quick you were at any task handed to you. It was no surprise that you were Dr. Olivia's first choice as her assistant. You could balance both your internship and your studies for BVA so impressively, that even Miles started to depend on you whenever he had exams. It helped your friendship blossom beautifully when you tutored him, but Miles knew it could grow into something more special.

After his internship, Miles would often visit his Uncle Aaron whenever he had free time to catch up. Their conversations were mostly about sports or common interests yet after meeting you, his uncle could notice how his eyes would light up or how he would be more passionate whenever his new friend (crush) named Y/N was brought up.

Aaron once teased Miles about his new love interest yet all his nephew could do was try to hide the truth with a flustered blush on his face.

"Stop playin' man, it's nothing like that. She's a friend," Miles would say before his attention turned back to his phone for the fiftieth time, checking if you had finally reacted to the message he sent you ten minutes ago. He was well aware you were still working at the Alchemax but he couldn't contain his impatience to see your reaction. He chuckled and gave Miles a playful punch on the shoulder.

"You a simp now Miles?" Uncle Aaron teased again while Miles looked away. It honestly didn't take long for him to know he was crushing on you hard since he always talked about you during his visits. But hearing him brag about you started to tire him.

So being the wingman he was once to his brother Jeff for Rio Morales, he decided to do the same to his nephew.

"A'ight, a'ight.. here's how you talk to her," Aaron says as he catches his nephew's attention, his brown eyes looking back to his in curiosity.

"You go up to that girl, hand on shoulder.." He demonstrated as he placed his palm on Miles' shoulder before looking back at him, his voice lowered while he held a neutral smirk and a nonchalant gaze. "Hey,"

Miles couldn't even hold his laughter in after he saw his uncle. "You serious wit' me Uncle Aaron?" Miles chuckled before it was Aaron's turn to laugh. " 'm tellin' you man, it's science!" he grinned.

Miles playfully rolled his eyes before turning his attention back to his phone after talking to his uncle. He tried to hide his excitement but a wide grin spread across his face, almost making him look like an idiot. You finally responded.

"Mami, your fingers're so soft.. but damn you're gripping my hair too hard.." Miles chuckled, his head between your thighs while his hefty palms gently caressed them slowly. You were sitting down on the edge of his bed wearing his jersey while he rested on the floor with your thighs on his shoulders comfortably. Your hands worked their magic on his hair as you were braiding it efficiently fast but a little painful.

"Says the one who wanted twisted locks but decided to switch up after I finished one half..." You pout before pulling on his curly hair and sectioning it with the thin comb Rio lent you. She was the one who taught you how to do Miles' hair whenever she was busy. It took some practice to do his hair but after a few weeks, Miles started relying and asking you to do his hair for him. Besides, being in the arms of his love always cheered him up.

You parted sections of his scalp with ease as you continued to braid his hair. He was on his phone, surprisingly quiet while he gently massaged your outer thigh with another hand. You didn't seem to mind but usually, he'd make some snarky joke that'll leave the two of you laughing in each other's arms.

Once you were done and placed the silky Byzantium-coloured durag over his head, you tilted his chin up to look up at you before kissing his cheek. "Done.!" You beamed in satisfaction before you cupped his face, grazing over his cheekbones as your eyes met his brown ones. Miles turned off his phone, staring into your eyes that were slightly covered by some strands of your hair.

It seemed silent for a bit until he smiled back at you and moved bits of your bangs apart gently to catch a look at your E/C eyes, the same pair he fell in love with when he first met you.

"I luv you so fuckin' much, y'know that ma?" Miles said, catching you off guard by his sudden affection. He held your hand in place on his cheek, keeping it still. "Todo mio bébé.." He whispered, his lips pressing a languid and sloppy kiss against your palm. You began to blush profusely while he laugh at your adorable reaction.

Seeing you so red and flustered was something he enjoyed so much about you. He gripped your hand tighter before you did the same. With a little nudge, Miles helped you plop down next to him on the bedroom floor while holding his hand up for support like how a gentleman would.

Being quiet was definitely out of character for the two of you but seeing your bashful blush turn to a gentle smile made him smirk more. He dropped your hand on his lap before he wrapped a hand around your waist, his palm shifting to your hip while his chin leaned against your soft hair he always loved to play with.

"I love you too Miles.." you mumbled, tilting your head up to meet his gaze as he smiled. Miles then kissed the middle of your forehead before his lips trailed down further. The lower he went, the more sloppy his kisses were. "Te amo más mi amor,"

Miles stood against the jagged, barbed edges of the rooftop next to his apartment while the cold wind bit through his thin black hood. His gaze was fixed on the mural he painstakingly spray-painted in memory of his dear deceased dad. Though it was painted with vibrant colours, the rain and atmosphere around Miles were nothing like the mural. The loss of his father made a hollowing hole in his heart that he impossibly couldn't fill.

His hood offered little to no protection from the torrential rain but it wasn't the rain that had left his face streaked with wetness. His tears were running down, if it was even possible he had any left to shed. Every bottle of spray paint beside the mural was a reminder of his efforts to make this portrait and the father he had lost. The pain of his absence affected him with each passing moment as the rain continued to trickle down on him.

Miles could only lay his head down as he tried to mask and soothe the painful anguish he was experiencing. It hurts, it hurts too much. His knuckles were turning white from how tight he was gripping the fabric inside his pockets. This deep sensation wasn't something he could bear at all, the grief and sorrow he was experiencing were clouding any thoughts of optimism he once had. Looking back at the mural hurt even more than getting stabbed, his eyes would feel like burning before he tried to suppress more tears from flowing yet he always ended up failing. He felt like a child, a hopeless one, someone with no worth. His father would most likely disagree, but his reassurance would be in vain now that he's somewhere else, far away from his family...

Without even knowing, Miles suddenly felt a gentle touch he could recognize despite his back facing the person. He turned around and saw you, your eyes red and tired while your hair was slightly messy under the hood from one of his jackets you borrowed again.

"Miles..." you whispered, your voice tinged with sorrow as you stepped before him, hoping to meet his eyes. He deliberately avoided your gaze, knowing damn well that facing you would only shatter his heart more. Seeing you so woeful and worried for his well-being made him feel at fault for your tears and his dad's decease. You wanted to tell him it wasn't his fault at all, and that he wasn't alone on this one but no words could even escape your mouth further. You were also affected by his dad's loss. He was someone who accepted you into their family as well as for dating his loveable son, and for that, you were forever grateful.

Jefferson had so many dreams he longed to see come true - the hopes of watching you and Miles proudly accept your diplomas, then someday walking you down the aisle as you exchanged vows with his son. And in his wildest, most cherished fantasies, he imagined growing old beside Rio, their hair gradually turning grey as they doted on their future grandchildren, their laughter and joy filling their home.

Knowing Jefferson would never be able to witness those shared milestones was a curse bestowed by Destiny itself.

You tried to cup Miles' face with benign but he looked further away, the guilt was eating him up painstakingly like torture. You widened your eyes at his defiance but nonetheless decided to back your hands away, respecting his privacy. What caught you off guard was when he suddenly wrapped his arms around your waist in a grip so desperate and unyielding - nothing like the warm, gentle hugs he'd given you before. When you tried to pull away, his hold on you only tightened, as if the thought of letting you go would mean losing you forever, like death would come and steal you from him like it did to his dad. The mere idea of you slipping away was absolutely agonizing, if he couldn't bear his dad's death, how could he bear yours?

"Y/N.. prometeme algo.." Miles murmured with his voice muffled against your shoulder before you hummed in curiosity. He breathed in your smell on his jacket, finding it wonderfully addictive before his head pulled away to finally meet your gaze. Another tear slipped from your eye but he gently wiped it off with his calloused finger, your kissable cheeks shouldn't be stained with tears...

"You gotta promise you'll never leave me, a'ight.?" He whispered as he gently ran his fingers through your hair and held you close by the waist, not wanting to let go. He then placed a soothing kiss against your forehead and pulled you impossibly closer. He didn't know what came over him but he began kissing your smooth cheeks and lips tenderly, practically devouring you with his mouth. The more he kissed you, the more he seemed to crave it like he was obsessed with the feeling of your skin against his lips. He couldn't help it at all, something about you kept pulling him closer. No matter how hard he tried to continue where he left off, the addictive feeling would always be superior.

"I couldn't save my dad..." Miles mumbled, his tone slightly darkening.".. Pero si tú también te vas, moriría de mierda.. (But if you leave too, I'd fucking die.)" he declared before he slowly began leaving more kisses on your face. His fingers gripped your jaw and made you look up to kiss him back while he placed his hand on your back, pushing you towards him.

You were a bit baffled by his extreme words but kissed him back. Your lips were soft and slow as you expected him to go the same pace as you, yet he was getting desperate, even trying to use his tongue against yours. When you felt like pulling away, he would only grip tighter. It wasn't until you whimpered that he let you breathe. Out of breath and bothered by such an intense kiss, you started to realize how far he'd go to protect you from any dangers from now on.

With a reassuring gentle kiss that contradicted his obsessive passion, you nodded. "I promise Miles.."

You were unaware of the consequences that promise led you to until now.

"Just text 'em you're stayin' over wit' me again ma," Miles repeated the same sentence for almost the fifteenth time it started to annoy you. You were both in his room, with you on the floor folding your clothes and shoving them inside your bag while he looked down at you with his hands in his pockets and an unfazed expression on his face.

"Miles, I haven't seen my family for almost an entire week," You sighed before zipping your bag close. "I need to get home, Mom and Dad're already pissed off." You responded as you stood up from the floor. After making sure you didn't forget any of your belongings, you were about to open his door and leave until Miles grabbed your wrist and pulled you back.

"You're leaving looking like that?" Miles scowled, eyeing your outfit. You looked confused as you were just wearing such simple clothing; a shirt, a pair of pants with little accessories and shoes. "Yeah?"

"Ma, you can't be fuckin' serious." he scoffed before an irritated look appeared on your face. You were about to pull your wrist away but his hand left to hold your hip. "You look like you wanna get laid outside," Miles commented as he pulled the shirt up to cover more of your shoulder yet it always ended up sliding down and revealing your collarbone he was just kissing hours ago. Funny his attitude changed for the worse.

"This shirt's ass, change." He ordered with a nonchalant tone. On the other hand, you were baffled.

"Miles- it's not even revealing," You responded, insulted by his words. "What, do you think other guys will hit on me again?" You scoffed as you crossed your arms and looked away.

"Y'know damn well it's not about that," He hissed. Miles then turned to face you, making sure you'd look right back at him with no distractions. "There're fucking rapists and criminals in this city but you're too goddamn blind to notice that, do you? Always flaunting your ass around like a ho," He scowled before you widened your eyes. You felt an ache in your heart as your exasperated glare turned to a self-conscious narrowed stare. But you knew better than to look weak in front of him.

"What the fuck is your problem?" You gave him a dirty look. "Ever since Uncle Jeff died, you've been acting so goddamn manipulative! You control what I do every single fucking time that you can't even let me go back home!" You exclaimed until his annoyed expression turned to one of indignation.

"Oh, so you're fucking bringing up my dad now huh? How petty can you damn be Y/N?!" Miles shouted before he grabbed your wrist and painfully tugged on it after you opened the door to leave again. He slammed the door shut so loud that Rio, who was in the living room resting after a long shift of work, wondered what the hell was happening.

"I'm telling you to change because I fucking care if you're in danger, but you're bitchin' about how I'm manipulative?!!" He shoved you away from the door, almost making you tumble while he towered over you, a look of disdain present on his face. "If you actually loved me, you would be listening 'cuz I know what's best for you. You just don't fucking see it."  His words left you with an aching heart that grew worse.

"I do—! How can't you see that..?!" You asked but cut yourself off as your words began to collapse. "I try my best to comfort you, stay by your side and give you all of my attention even when you're at your lowest when Uncle Jeff died, but I'm suddenly the wrong one 'cause I just want to see my family again.?! What type of sick shit are you smoking Miles?!" You yelled, tears started to build up in your eyes but you tried to hide them by wiping the streaks excessively.

Miles' expression remained the same; detached and irritated. Your sobs caused little to no guilt for him as they fell upon deaf ears. In fact, the only thing that changed was how his glare intensified while he looked at you like you were spitting nonsense. You clearly didn't understand anything at all. You didn't know how dangerous the world was and how he was clearly right. Your words only fueled his anger like gasoline.. but the streaks of tears on your face, vividly reminded him of his past that he never dwelled on until now. Your stupid tears, so sensitive and fucking annoying.

"Stop calling him Uncle Jeff, he's dead Y/N." Miles asserted before he sighed in annoyance while he held his temple. "You of all people should know how I felt when he died but judging by your words, you fucking don't." He glared before you looked back at him, your expression full of confusion and worry.

"Y'know.. arguing wit' you is always so fucking stupid that I start to wonder, how can I dumbass like you ever made it to the Alchemax.." He belittled with a scowl on his face. You could feel more tears building up but he made no effort to show any remorse at all.

You watched him walk around his room to pick up the small objects you recognized as your gifts for him. He began tossing them in your direction while you hopelessly picked them up.

"Take your shitty ass gifts and leave. Don't come back." Miles hissed with contempt. You could only look back at him, your head slightly shaking like you were pleading him to stop but he only looked away, avoiding your teary expression that resembled an abused hopeless puppy.

With nothing else to say, you left his room with your stuff, sobbing as you left. You avoided Rio's worried look on you from the living room before you quietly closed their front door. The walls were normally soundproof but after your argument with Miles, she started to doubt that was the case. She could hear almost everything but decided not to butt in. It wasn't any of her business to be a referee between your relationship but she cared deeply for you despite the fact she was only your mother-in-law.

After you left, Rio slowly got up from the couch and walked towards Miles' bedroom. The door was slightly open and she could hear quiet sobs inside. Anxious, she entered to check up on her crying son. He was sitting on his bed while a shaky sigh escaped his lips, trying to conceal his runny tears from his mom. When he knew he couldn't, Miles covered his tears with his palm, his eyes red from crying like yours. "Joder, la cagué... (Fuck, I screwed up..)"

Rio approached him before she sat down beside him on his bed. She looked around his messy room filled with the gifts she recognized from you. Each present was a symbol of the love you gave for Miles but he carelessly threw them away. Her attention turned back to him when he picked one up, specifically a camera with its' lens shattered from the fall. Fortunately, it could still turn on.

Miles went through the photos captured by the camera, they were mostly you and him hugging, sharing precious moments like your first Valentine's Day with him, or even his birthday. Each photo showed complete love and affection, unlike today. He gripped the camera tighter, trying to suppress more tears from flowing but how could he when he lost the only person who cared for him, from a petty argument over what she was wearing?

"Miles.." Rio caressed his shoulder, calming his sobs down. "Sé que podrías estar enojado... (I know you might be angry), but fighting Y/N because of your frustrations isn't good.." She spoke while she had a worried look on her face. His head was still facing down but she knew he was listening. "You only have me, her, and your Uncle Aaron.. don't push her away," She said before cupping his cheek and pinching it with her hand as a way to cheer him up. He sniffled but allowed it to happen, making Rio softly chuckle.

" 'm sorry you had to get involved mama.." Miles apologized quietly, covering his eyes with his hand shamefully. Rio's small moment of laughter soon died down.

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to Miles," she admitted, slowly taking her hand off his shoulder.

"Si acaso, ella merece más tu disculpa que yo.. (If anything, she deserves your apology more than I do..)" The curly-haired woman responded. It was only a few moments before Miles looked back at her, she could read from his guilty expression how she was right. "Make it up to her Miles.." Rio mumbled before she left his room, leaving him alone to ponder and self-reflect.

Thinking back to what you said, you weren't completely wrong. Miles started to admit he actually was manipulative, he was just so blinded by possessiveness and the danger in the city that it wasn't until the end of the argument that he finally opened his eyes and realized he was controlling you. His hand travelled to his chest, gripping it tightly when he felt a painful ache after he put your feelings into thought. He couldn't even imagine how hurt you must've been after his behaviour. He knew you strived for a healthy relationship but just now, he realizes it was deteriorating.. all because of him.

Miles' attention shifted back to the camera, pressing the buttons as he scrolled through its gallery. His breath hitched when he saw his favourite photo of you together. To anybody, it wouldn't mean so much but it had a special place inside him. It was a semi-blurry picture with your arms around his shoulders while the back of his head was against your chest. You beamed beautifully with your smudged lipgloss on your lips while Miles had kiss marks all over his face. Every photo he scrolled past left him an empty void inside his heart that he couldn't fill. It just grew worse the more he looked. Even when he decided to put the camera down, his untidy room scattered with your presents just showed how much of a jackass he was.

Letting out a deep, exhausted sigh, he slowly and gently picked them up, handling them with the utmost care. His heart sank as he meticulously placed them back in their designated spots, his brows furrowed with concern, hoping he wouldn't accidentally jostle or harm them any further.

A week and three days ever since the argument. Miles had been counting. He gave you a few days to leave you alone, to finally spend time with your family while he made sure they were safe from any dangers from the city by killing any criminal who dared to harm them. His gauntlet's claws would pierce through their organs and freshly pluck them out like they were fruits. Ever since Jefferson's death, the crime rate was growing higher non-stop as no one would be even safe to go outside anymore. But Miles made sure you were safe and sound despite his ways of protecting you were questionable. He had lots of regrets in life but refusing to tell you he was the Prowler was one of them. He wished to tell you now but knew he had to respect your privacy.

Fuck.. he'd been neglecting you for so long that he forgot it was a necessary boundary.

After a few more days, Miles was expecting to find you after class in the Alchemax for the Super-Collider project again but when he entered your lab, you weren't there. It was strange. You'd usually be early.. were you still avoiding him? It was okay actually- perfectly acceptable but.. he felt like he hadn't seen you in ages... He looked back at his phone, checking if you called him back or responded to any of his messages.. or at least read them.

30 unread messages & 9 missed calls...

and counting..

Miles gripped his phone tighter, worry etching on his face behind his distorted Prowler mask as he stood on top of a skyscraper where he'd usually clear his thoughts. His stomach churned, something was definitely not right.

"N-No.. ma please.." Miles ran to your unconscious body despite his ankle being sprained after fighting his nemesis KingPin, the bastard who funded the Super-Collider Project. He fell beside you, placing your head on his lap for comfort while he moved any hair blocking your vision. Your eyes were barely open and you couldn't breathe properly. He didn't want to see you like this, not after the days you weren't together. He cupped your cheek, careful not to slice your once soft skin with his rough and sharp gauntlet. It was like he was holding a beautiful sculpture that could break any moment if touched wrongfully.

After your sudden disappearance and lack of answers from his text messages and calls, Miles began searching for you as he thought for the worst. His suspicions were correct once he found you at KingPin's lair where he planned to use you like you were fodder for the Super-Collider, the same project you were so passionate about that backfired completely on you. Miles managed to save you just in time but after all the injuries your body suffered through, he could only hope you had enough willpower to survive.

"Y/N, Y/N.. baby listen to me.." Miles whispered, hastily taking off his gauntlet and holding your face gently. He tilted your head to meet his eyes that showed worry and guilt, unlike the arrogant expression you last saw him with.

"Miles.." you softly murmured, your voice barely audible. He held you closer, hugging you as he kept in thought to not suffocate you with hugs right now. You winced while he reassuringly kissed your forehead. "Shh.. shh.. baby, don't talk right now.. Keep your energy," Miles' voice came out as shutters. He looked at your tired expression to which he chuckled weakly, forgetting the situation in hand for a split second. "How could you be so fuckin' beautiful every time?"

He tried to light up the tension but he started to realize from your emotionless expression how you were barely alive. He carefully picked you up but soon fell back down thanks to his goddamn ankle. He felt your hand grip his shirt, catching his attention.

"I-I can't move..." You whispered but Miles quickly responded. "I'm not leaving you.." He quickly said but you only gripped on his shirt tighter. He couldn't even bear to look back at you, knowing your pained expression would kill him too. "Miles please..." You begged quietly as tears began to form in your eyes.

"My bones are shattered... I can't even b-breathe properly—" You tried to explain but your chest began to heave more, catching his attention. He was about to respond yet seeing your teary orbs left him quiet. "I-I'm sorry Miles.." You whispered before whimpering in pain when your chest burned inside. You tried rolling out of his grip but he ended up holding you tighter, not caring if he hurt you.

"You're not leaving me Y/N.." Miles mumbled as tears began to form in his eyes like yours. His teeth clenched in frustration. He held you even closer, burying his nose into the crook of your neck.

"Don't you remember our promise babe?" Miles whispered with his tone softer than before. He relished your warmth as a tear slid down his cheek. "You're gonna keep that fucking promise okay?" He spoke, his voice becoming shaky.

"I-I don't know.." you sighed. You didn't want to hide the truth from him now that your final moments were before you. Miles shook his head no, refusing to accept such an answer. His hands trembled in intense fear but he gripped you tighter. He's not going to let you die, you were supposed to die beside him peacefully decades later, not now.

"N-No, you don't mean that." He stuttered while he embraced you fully. More tears slipped out but your soft hand wiped them away. He cherished your warmth like it was a rare fire in a freezing winter while you looked back at him with a sorrowful look on your face.

"I'm— so sorry... I didn't listen to you at all.." you whimpered, wiping away more of his tears with your finger. "You were right.. this place is fucked up... I-I hope you can forgive me.." You mumbled before you hissed in pain when your injuries grew unbearable.

"S-Shh.. now's not the time for that okay Y/N.?" Miles shook his head before he kissed your forehead. "I-I'm gonna take you to the hospital- a-and the doctors'll heal you. Just please keep your eyes open f'me.. just do that a-and I'll forgive you, alright?" He smiled reassuringly but it was obvious that he only masked melancholy.

"J-Just promise me something Miles.." you whispered, your eyelids were slowly becoming heavy yet you still looked up at him now that you had his attention. "You'll keep living.. for me, for Aunty Rio and Uncle Aaron okay..?" You spoke before his eyes widened by your words.

"I love you.. so much Miles... please just promise me that.." You muttered while you gently caressed his cheeks, your movements were getting slower as seconds passed. Miles nodded in response, a shaky 'I promise' leaving his lips before you smiled once more.

Your eyes started to flutter close as your hand left his cheek to fall beside you. Miles began to panic. "N-No— no, no, no.. baby please..." He sobbed, trying to wake you up as he just assumed you were tired. But once he checked your pulse, he realized one of his dreadful nightmares had come to life.

No matter how many times Miles would try to rewrite your faith, it would always end up the same. Your death in his arms, his dad's passing... yet those were only a few of his canon events, the cruel events he was destined to go through alone. They were all equally awful but your decease drove him to his breaking point. It was like life was entirely worthless with no colour or joy without you. His heart would never be the same as your death left a wound that will never heal. It made him realize how cruel life was.

He'd never be able to find someone to replace you, he'd never be able to share wonderful moments with you that covered his eyes from this fucked up world, he'd never feel your warm and soft touch he loved so much. Without you, all was hopeless.

Every blade he came across created more lines on his wrists. He had gotten so used to it by now the pain became numb. His arms would bleed out pools of crimson that one time he almost reached his arteries and passed out, not until he had to patch himself up every time he was reminded of the promise you made.

If he broke it now or ever, it'd be like he was pissing over your grave. He'd swear he'd never cut again but a minute later, he'd be relapsing when he remembered your crying face. It was almost pure torture for Miles, both physically and emotionally.

"You didn't answer my question," Miles G. scowled at him, pressing the sharp gauntlet further into his cheek, making Miles grunt in pain. The spider-man's eye twitched, trying to move his head away but the more he moved, the more his counterpart pressed the blade-like claw further into his flesh.

"S-She's my friend! She's also a spider-woman.! From another dimension at least.." Miles admitted before he sighed in frustration, trying to get him to hear him out. "Listen, just let me go before things get worse. I have to save our dad... please," he pleaded, emphasizing the 'our' so he might have some pity for him yet Miles G. only glared at him like he was nothing but dirt.

"You walk in my home and pose around like you're sum imposter, why should I let go of you?" He asked.

"'Cause I'm literally you! Why can't you understand that.?!" Miles asked with impatience. He started getting desperate, he needed his counterpart to understand. "I'm spider-man alright? And there's other spider-men- or a bunch of me's! One of 'em was Miguel and he learned how to teleport or something- from different dimensions so that's how we all met each other.." he explained frantically before he continued.

"I was bit by a radioactive spider and that gave me powers to protect other people from my own world- but it wasn't supposed to bite me! It was supposed to bite someone else.. someone here." He explained in a frenzy before his twin's eyes widened.

"It was supposed to bite someone here?" Miles G. repeated while the spider-man slowly nodded. He watched how he pulled his gauntlet away from his bleeding cheek. Miles was confused as to why he suddenly retracted until he spoke. "You're the reason for this?"

"So someone could've saved them.. Y/N.. dad.." The prowler murmured under his breath, looking down at his palm while Miles' expression softened. Though his tone was low, he could hear him. He felt his heart ache a little when he realized how rough his counterpart's life had been when there was no spider-man to protect his city at all. What he thought was a sorrowful look turned out to be an angered one.

Miles' look of sympathy soon turned into confusion when he saw how his gauntlet turned a brighter colour as if it was charging up. He looked back at his twin, his glare sending shivers down his spine. "W-Wait wait wait, c'mon man-" he stuttered as the prowler had a death stare settled on him. With his arms still tied up against the punching bag, Miles tried to activate his venom strike but his actions seemed futile when he couldn't even feel the electric currents in his palms. He thought he was over with until his counterpart spoke again.

"You said you had to save Y/N," Miles G. said while Miles only looked back at him, perplexed.

"Yeah.." he muttered.

The prowler sucked the inside of his cheek as he was in deep thought. Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.. the name kept repeating in his head non-stop. Just as he was about to slowly improve his health for you despite your passing, his other version had to show up and ruin his progress. His counterpart had no idea how painful your death meant to him but hearing how he was planning to save you felt like a repeat of the past. Miles G. couldn't even trust him fully yet he knew if he prevented him further, it might be too late for you. Not wanting to experience your death for the second time, the prowler did something unexpected.

With a swift cut by his gauntlet, Miles suddenly fell on his feet while the broken chains around him collapsed on the ground next to the punching bag. He sighed in relief when he could finally move his body without restraint before he looked back at his counterpart. "Don't get the wrong idea cabrón, I'm not lettin' you go 'cause I feel bad for you," He grunted while Miles just chuckled a little nervously.

"You're lucky my time's better spent on saving Y/N," Miles G. scoffed.

for the readers who don't know certain characters' names, they often get confused, so here's brief information for each of them. ___________________________

   - 🕸️ Olivia Octavius: the head scientist and CEO of Alchemax, working under KingPin. Her extraordinary project led to multiple deaths, including Y/N's. She is addressed as Liv to close friends.

𝕾𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄.

[dressed2k1ll]

Did you watch the Barbie movie when it came out? What were your feelings on it, if so?

I found it was basic and disappointing, and it’s depressing that so many people seem to think it’s deep. I can understand that it was an entertaining movie and it gets props for that, but anything else is like :-| at least for me.

Thanks for having your blog up, it validates my feelings a lot abt gender and society. I lean much more into radical feminism personally

Thank you so much for the compliment and the question!!! Gosh if it weren’t for Tumblr I might go bananas! I need to know there are more out there like me!

So Barbie. First let me start by saying I’m a 43 year old woman. This movie was basically made exactly for my demographic in many ways: features many of my era of dolls and contained enough nostalgia to melt my brain.

I remember when I saw the first teaser, despite any logic or feminism I’ve grown to internalize, the teaser trailer (when she stepped out of her shoe) touched something very nostalgic and formative and pre-logical in my mind. I truly loved my Barbies, I ADORED the fashion and clothing changing (still do for myself lol), and the way that she did allow me and my childhood friend to navigate or play out or experiment with social dynamics, even though we couldn’t appreciate it in that way.

Having said that: ken also was the “object doll” of the Barbie world 😆 and so the promise of demonstrating. the banality of Ken as an inversion of what most people felt was as the banality of BARBIE became something truly new to me. It is a uniquely childhood-barbie-lover feeling.

Also for context: the last “Barbie” spinoff I knew was from the Simpsons Malibu Stacy doll episode, wherein they tried to use Lisa to critique the expectations Barbie seemed to place on girls (although sheesh - compared to social media, looks tame). It didn’t really succeed in moving the needle on trying to make Barbie a “feminist” icon.

Going in, I felt “okay, I realize they’re going to do something feminist with Barbie - it’s gonna go good, or it’s gonna go bad.”

For me? As a Barbie loving girl who grew into a feminist: it was fun, silly, very entertaining, unsubtle, and pretty basic politically.

I cried at the “what was I made for” song - I think this is a really great question every girl and woman should ask. Because 1. It brings attention to girl socialization and 2. It gives me that feeling I had when my feminism “kicked in” - like “what the fuck: I guess this was a lie”

My sense is if the movie DOES this for other women who aren’t as far along their feminist journey, holy shit: worth it.

My niece, who was 3 when she saw it, instinctively got upset when the men tried to put “the real” (she calls it) Barbie in the box. It touches something so unarticulated, so unexpressed - and it’s not sexualized, and it’s not women in captivity for men to be aroused by: it’s transcends that somehow.

And the line that Rhea Pearlman said stood out to me as important too: “We mothers stand still so our daughters can look back and see how far they’ve come” - that CHOKED me. Because my mom WAS a struggling “free spirited” feminist that burned her bra but still wound up being a trad wife for my dad.

I didn’t see anything in the movie that made me ashamed to show it to young girls, which is rare.

So TL:DR, despite its basicness, it is a rare example of a successful feminist film for young girls. And it (I dare say) rehabilitated the doll from a more “sex ideal” image. If fans understand America Ferreras speech and it strikes them as new (and there are many) it’s worth it. It’s pushing the needle forward.

A couple more points (omg can you tell this is something I think about?)

1. Compare it with the other “women is made and not born” companion movie that came out: Poor Things, which was so clearly a male centered fantasy.

2. It’s an example of showing a world where women are empowered. What other movie or show has shown this as a viable alternative to patriarchy?

Thank you again for the question!!!!!

[willedeservesbetter]

Get to know me tag game

I was tagged by @sflow-er , actually started answering a few days ago but run out of time. So now I have some time to kill, so let's try another time.

Do you make your bed?

Yes, it is an attempt I am actually allowed to call myself a functioning adult 😂.

What's your favourite number?

I don't have one, but my parents love the number 9, so I basically decided this is a family tradition now.

What is your job?

Nope, for one my job is actually not that easy to explain, even in person. Second, I don't share personal information on my public Tumblr account. My two Tumblr friends (you know who you are) can ask me though, in case they are interested.

If you could go back to school, would you?

Fun fact, ppl always assume I was an amazing student. I was not... sadly I am lazy AF, surprised I actually have a Master degree and I always hated studying. I am very much a learning -by-doing person.

Can you parallel park?

I mean, I have a driver license, so at one point I could 😝. Serious answer, I sold my car a couple of years ago, so I very rarely drive a car. Ask me again in September, as I have a road trip ahead of me then.

A job you had that would surprise people?

Mmh, nothing really comes to mind tbh. In terms of work I don't think I did anything particularly exciting.

Do you think aliens are real?

Are we alone in the universe? No, absolutely not. However what kind of life exists and how advanced they are, that is a totally different conversation. I don't believe we are getting visited or abducted.

What's your guilty pleasure?

If it brings me joy, I don't define it as a guilty pleasure, as long as it doesn't interfere with life, friends or family. Maybe I am abusing way too much time at work to write comments for my fav fics or writing novels back to friends.

Tattoos?

No, because I know myself and I will get tired of anything I could get. But I understand why ppl love them because there are some very cool and amazing tattoos (but also gotta say, I find most tattoos very underwhelming or even ugly and I am surprised why ppl get them in the first.place. But those opinions I always, always keep to myself).

Favourite colour?

Blue was always my colour since I was a little girl and it also looks best on me. I love green and altrosa too though.

Favourite type of music?

I suck when it comes to music. I always listen to some random Spotify lists and generally have no idea what is happening in the world of music or particularly care.

Do you like puzzles?

I don't remember the last time I did one... guess that is answer enough.

Any phobias?

I HATE needles. I needed to get a lot of vaccinations last year, I survived, but it really was not my favorite past time. At least the employees at the doctor all complimented me for still being mature enough to take my health seriously 😂.

Favourite childhood sport?

I was the WORST cheerleader in existence, but I loved it 🤷🏼‍♀️.

Do you talk to yourself?

Lol, i am a very chatty person (IF I like you. ironically I can also be very quiet), of course I talk to myself.

What movies do you adore?

Edit: Can you drive a manual car?

The Lord of the Rings trilogy has such a special place in my heart and they better never remake it.

Coffee or tea?

Both, at home and work it is coffee. when I am visiting my parents, I am always drinking tea. but I like both a lot.

What was the first thing you wanted to be growing up?

Lol, a FARMER. The idea is from beginning to end HILARIOUS.

Edit: Can you drive a manual car?

I am German, it is in my DNA 😂. ask me driving the first time an automatic car though. Now that was an experience.

[cassynite]

B and Y for sparrow and daeran please?

:D Thank you so much for the ask!!!

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Physically, Daeran's natural beauty is so obvious to Sparrow she'd probably get a little annoyed if someone asked her what she thought was beautiful about him, because she'd interpret it either as fishing for a compliment (Daeran, especially early on in their relationship) or as an attempt to needle her on what she perceives as her very obvious attraction to him (everyone else). He's like a painting come to life, a storybook prince stepping out of the pages of a fanciful romance book if you transplanted the pettiness and meanness of a twelve-year-old who was never told no. But it's also that personality that makes Sparrow admire him most, what draws her to him--he's deeply and unapologetically himself, and does not blunt his edges or hide the uglier parts of his personality. He refuses to make himself smaller--the tragedy of his childhood won't take away his color, the disapproval of his righteous peers won't make him shrink. For Sparrow, who spent the majority of her life learning to crush herself into the roles that other people have placed her in, his commitment to himself is seen as a kind of bravery that she is deeply envious of and something she eventually strives for herself. When they start their relationship and she learns more about him, and how that aspect of himself is in its own way a kind of persona, she learns to love and appreciate the softer, more vulnerable side of him as well, the one that he begins to show with her once they become committed to each other. It's his honesty, in all forms, that she admires the most. For Daeran's part, I imagine it took a minute for him to be attracted to Sparrow--besides their initial bombastic meeting, the image Sparrow presents isn't one that Daeran woudl necessarily be drawn to. Daeran is drawn to personality, passion, and drive--all things Sparrow works very hard to pretend she doesn't have. The flashes of emotion are what drew Daeran in at first, and the first time he truly becomes attracted to her is when he's able to draw her into an argument for the first time. When she truly cares about something she is deeply passionate about it and can even become aggressive with it, and it immediately fascinates Daeran. Through their courtship and post-canon one of this favorite things is drawing that spark out of her and seeing emotion replace her mask of neutrality. He loves that passion most, and how dedicated and devoted she becomes to the things she cares deeply about, and how completely she throws herself into the things and the people that she devotes herself to. Whether that be creating and implementing social and educational programs in Drezen, fighting with Galfrey in Nerosyan about Mendevian policies she disagrees with, picking up new skills and hobbies that catch her interest, or her relationship to her husband, Sparrow always puts in her all, and Daeran loves how alive Sparrow becomes with her passion.

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Sparrow and Daeran are very rarely apart for long periods of time; they ensure that whatever duties or desires they have, they can make time in each other's schedules to do it together. On the rare occasions that circumstances take them away from each other, they tend to lean on their more public personas harder than usual. Sparrow becomes more withdrawn and serious without Daeran, smiling or taking noticeable enjoyment in things even less than usual. She also tends to get a harder head about her own strategies and will get impatient and short with others, especially if they end up delaying her departure for home. However, an easy way to get into her good graces when she's alone is just to bring up Daeran in a positive or even neutral way and then endure the subsequent monologue about her husband. If she's very far abroad she will also try to make time to find a gift to bring home as well.

Daeran, for his part, tends to deal with Sparrow's absence through distraction--he'll throw large parties wherever he's at, or set up some kind of game or event. He's hosted banquets, tournaments, soirees...onlookers might comment that the Count likes to let loose without his wife around to harangue him, but they make sure not to say it within earshot for fear of his reprisal. Anyone who pays attention will also note that, as outrageous and off-the-wall the things he does when he's alone happen to be, he always somehow schedules the events so that they are never finished before Sparrow joins him, and she always ends up enjoying the tail end of things, where there's always some kind of grand finale. It almost acts as a celebration for their reunion.

[promethea-silk]

Coven

Lacquered nails shifted over the piece that hung from the choker at her neck. Another evening, another meeting but one that had not been on the agenda. A white-haired woman had stood before her only hours ago expressing that she had been summoned to an unknown location, and unknown manor by an unknown person.

Weeks prior and levied some sense of anxiety in her due to her more recent outting from Ul’dah to Thavnair – however, Vahalia was stubborn and if anything, extremely curious. Not many people sought out an audience with her unless it meant business. Most other chatter happened in the wings at hosted events and soirees, big and small. Women kept in houses and overworked through traditional roles merely gibbering about gossip involving her; rarely did any approach her. Only men with bolstered audacity.

Honey pools of spite regarded the room she had been brought to, a silver of reverence pitted itself in her core as she silently took note of the decor and the dimly lit parts of the manor – much like her own.

The crackling of the fireplace in the large room joined with the metronome ticking of a large grandfather clock, the quiet symphony only overshadowed by a quiet violin playing through the horn of an elegant gramophone sitting on a nearby table. It was a macabre somber tune, though beautiful all the same and it captured Vahalia’s attention for some time. “The Lady will be with you momentarily, Ma’am.” Offered the young woman, a voice of nearly a child though her features told the story of her mature age. She curtsied and quietly exited the room, the sound of the door closing behind her confirming her retreat.

The woman swathed in black lace and green and waltzed to the metronome with uninvited intent, touching upon something that wasn’t hers, fingertip coming up to cease the motion of the sway if only to disrupt the constant. After a few seconds, she released her hold and tipped the needle to watch the piece resume its count.

Mere moments would pass after the handmaiden took her leave when the click of the door opening called for Vahalia’s attention as Cordelia passed through the threshold to enter the room. She was a vision of morbidity and darkness and yet still somehow shone upon her entrance. A way of carrying herself, perhaps, feeling a bit drunk with the freedom to command a room now that her place no longer remained behind a man. “Lady Cress, I was pleased to be informed of your acceptance to my invitation. I must admit I have not had the enjoyment of entertaining company of my own for quite some time so I do hope the accommodations are to your liking.” A hand swept out around her, gesturing to the large yet cozy sitting room. The walls lined with dark portraits of unnamed men and women, preserved insects of the most beautiful kind, hues of mauve and silver accented the linens and curtains. 

The witch-woman turned a little more, curiously. The decor was something she had a few moments to take in but she certainly wasn’t expecting Cordelia to look the way she did – somehow she envisioned a blonde woman, blue eyes and slathered in crimson silk; a color to catch just about any eye. What a pleasant surprise this was.

“Lady Gray.” she pointedly addressed though respectfully, “I cannot say I know more than your name and now where your abode resides. I must have walked by here several times in my travels. Never once recognizing it as the Gray household – nor you.” Vahalia genuinely smiled.

The two women complimented one another in a way that was unexpected, the atmosphere and energy around them feeling of the same nature in some sense. Cordelia had already begun crossing the room toward the seating area and gesturing for Vahalia to follow when she replied with a huffing chuckle. “That is life when you marry into a suffocating family that prefers to keep to themselves. I do not fault you for not knowing much of me, I personally only just learned of you and yours, myself.” Finding a comfortable seat, she smiled to Vahalia though it was not of the typical nature in which one would smile, there was a veil of mystery around it but it was kind enough. “Surely I am not taking up too much of your attention away from far pressing matters?” 

“Not at all. I’m thankful you’ve summoned me, it means I spend less time sorting the pockets of men or playing guessing games with their emotions. Seems you’re a bit of a savior.” Vahalia found some measure of comfort in the seat across from Cordelia, a hand gracefully tucking her dress just behind her calf, “To hear of your hiding is a disappointment. I imagine running into you at one of the soirees would have been welcoming – atleast I’d suspect a rather curious and interesting person to run into.” her hand lifted to indicate, “-- your decor and such.” honey hues remained pinned to the hostess.

Her grin met her eyes as she glanced around the room, proud of her choices in every manner of decoration. “Mm, I would not be disappointed…I may have been hidden but I was simply lying in wait.” The words were dripping with enthusiasm in the way that she might have been filled with venom and prepared to strike, though it wasn’t menacing toward her guest but rather her would be ‘prison guards’. “While the place was never bright and colorful before my husband’s death, I certainly have seen to it being what it has become since then even further. Most would find it drab and morbid… it is refreshing to find another who enjoys it.” 

A casual tilt was afforded to Vahalia’s body, adjusting in the seat to find purchase along one of the armrests, placing weight on forearm, “I grew up in a house that had pretty dim candles. My mother….she was a sickly lady for the last few years of her life up to her death. It all grew on me I suppose. I’ve always found there to be more comfortable in the darkest recesses and shadows.” a ruby smirk flashed across to the Lady of the House, “Tell me Cordelia, do you enjoy reading?”

There was a slight twitch in her eyes, the lids narrowing just a bit as she listened to the explanation the other woman gave in her decorating preferences and why. “Hm… interesting as it was from my mother where I inherited my designing eye. Of course, not in the same fashion - which, I am sorry to hear of your mother’s final days- but she was a bit dark and macabre in her own right.” Dark brows perked at the closing question, her head tilting ever so slightly. “I do, but not of fantasy and adventure. More of… knowledge. And you?”

"Avid reader of much of the same. Research, tomes,languages and more. Folklore is all well and good when there is an element of truth in there somewhere." Honey-pools glinted, "I think I have a copy of a book you might enjoy. Well, a tome of sorts. My sister squandered her chance to learn from it and has taken to dallying in the kitchens rather than broadening her mind."

This piqued Cordelia’s interest pretty quickly, a brow raising curiously. She was somewhat surprised that Vahalia was seemingly comfortable with her right away, then again, something told Cordelia that the two were going to get along fairly well, also. “Color me intrigued…I was never one to fully commit to being stuck doing wifely duties, despite playing the part for most of my life. Tell me about this tome and its contents?” 

“You and I both.” Vahalia mused outwardly. Casually her nail tapped along the end of the armrest and she hummed across to her hostess, “It’s a little taboo. Can’t say I’ve read too much into it myself. My sister had shown little interest in wanting to learn anything within. It's a tome I picked up after making a deal with a…Thaumaturge.” Vahalia gently lied, eyes cutting sharply to the Lady Gray.

“A Thaumaturge, you say?” Cordelia regarded in question, her tongue slowly running over her lips just slightly simply as a habit when she concentrated. Grey eyes washed over Vahalia in thought before she continued further with a smirk and a bit of a darkened playfulness to her tone. “And considering you are the one offering its contents to be available to me I have no qualms in expressing that I’ve never shied away from the taboo. It is a shame that your sister has turned from it, though, I’d imagine it would be enjoyable to have kept it within the family. Pardon for having done some digging, but I hear she is to be married soon, yes?” 

A nod confirmed it, “She is and not too much longer now, before winter’s end. One step forward in making some steps to broaden some horizons. She was much more suited for that role than I could ever be anyways; though it will be an eventuality I have no intention on letting someone else handle the household for me..” Vahalia turned her wrist, hand ceasing to indicate as she spoke. A hum loosed and she regarded Cordelia intensely, “And you, condolences are in order. How long has it been?”

As Vahalia spoke, the other woman leaned her elbow to the left armrest of her chair, hands clasping together and resting just at her lips height. Cordelia had never much interest in marrying off either but it seemed that they both understood that sometimes sacrifices must be made in order to attain the favorable end result, and with no intentions on remaining in the marriage her parents had arranged for her, a few years as arm candy to the vile man was worth the position she was now in. With that, she gave Vahalia a knowing look, lips just faintly in a smirk as her brows flicked upward quickly in a sharp motion. “A little over a week… and between you and I, I’d much prefer congratulations.” 

“Ah, freedom once again then. Congratulations indeed. Be it far from me to judge, I typically prefer my freedom as well so I try not to take advantage of it or for granted.” she tapped the underside of her bottom lip twice, Vahalia reading the air between them as it was presented, “Do you have goals going forward?”

There was a gentle shrug as she lowered her hands to now simply rest in her lap. “Mm, continue to solidify this House as mine. There are a few more things that need to be taken care of to do so and hope perhaps you might aid in being a part of that. I have heard that you’ve recently come to establish a new tradeship. While my late husband had his connections, I would prefer to begin making my own and seeking to further extend our reach beyond Ishgard more than he had.” “Fair. You would also be correct.” Vahalia tipped her head and loosed another hum, thinking on the weight of their conversation further, “I have a ship, The Sirensong. It is seafaring so I can completely negate the need for ceruleum. The slower option of course when it comes to transport but much more cost-effective. Eventually, I hope to purchase another to get a small trade company underway. People can pay me to bring their goods all over without so much as lifting a finger – the middle man, essentially. Given that I work with a company already situated to assist in that as well, its a bit of a win/win.” Vahalia’s tongue passed over her lips and rested to the corner of her mouth before speaking again, “Are you interested in having a hand in the transport part of trade or having something transported?”

Cordelia allowed a few simple nods as she listened to Vahalia. She knew that the company mentioned was the Ashen Wolves thanks to Wren having gathered the details on her prior, though she felt no need to let on that she knew. “Mm, currently I am looking at having goods transported. Our lines of finance come through textiles and jewels or jewelry, though I am in the works of procuring even more freedom with the Gray coffers than what I have been allowed and once that is handled, then I am planning to extend my reach to other ventures and see that it goes within and beyond Ishgard.” 

"I see. Coffers can be tricky business, I work as an accountant for a company. What is more I think jewelry and textiles is good trade. Best to extend to places that have the least competitive outreach. Thavnair for example would be a little harder to compare your good to theirs but I suspect jewelry and textiles here in Ishgard is another matter or even in Ul'dah. Plenty to consider, of course." Vahalia smirked gently.

“Yes well, none of it will matter until I have a situation handled which is being taken care of presently.” Cordelia paused as she mulled over a further explanation of her situation. Her foot bounced just slightly as the one leg rested over the other. “Quite frankly he had everything set up to see that I was anything but free if he should…have an accident. But as I said, it’s being taken care of. Once it is, perhaps we can discuss this further and if there are opportunities for building a working relationship.” 

“I think I would enjoy that quite a bit.” Vahalia smirked across to Cordelia and offered a firm nod, “I’m sure I’ll have more interesting information to share with you at that time and given how you’ve found me I’m sure you needn’t direction on how to contact me should you feel you need to.”

A dim chiming chuckle escaped Cordelia as she shrugged lightly. “What can I say, My girl does her job well.” She waved a hand toward Vahalia with a smile. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from the more pressing matters I’m sure you have to tend to…Despite that no doubt my company is likely much more entertaining. Though…feel free to come by at any time.”

The company rose, smoothing out parts of her attire, “No rest for the wicked, they say. Make good choices, dear.” Vahalia practically purred and she made for the door pausing briefly to continue, “Oh and Cordelia? Light your candles.” she left her hostess with only to open the door to the sitting area herself, the Lady Cress seeing herself out as it was something she didn’t seem too bothered by. If caught, the Lady Gray might have spotted a small wink sent her way during the departure.

Still sitting, Cordelia simply grinned to herself at her guest’s departure. She watched as Vahalia left before she turned to settle back in her chair to gaze into the fireplace allowing that grin to linger a moment. A voice inside told her this was the simple beginning to something deeper, something great. 

[ Collab with @umbral-flare-ffxiv​ !!]

[missswritesalot]

A Pact of Ice and Fire

Chapter 1

Thank you all so much for reading.

Background chapter 2

Let me know your thoughts please xx

"Are you the woman they speak of? The one tending to the men?" You heard a voice say from behind you. You startled, you were bent over a badly wounded man and making him drink the milk of the poppy. You were not expecting someone to address you as you were surrounded by those too gravely injured to speak.

It was Robb Stark, the King in the North. The son of one of the men who had destroyed your family. His face was streaked with blood and mud, and his red hair too was caked in grime. He looked like he'd just fought a war.

"Your grace," you said, bowing. "I am working with the Septa here, I do not know who the wounded speak of."

"A woman, not dressed in the robes of the Seven, and from the free cities. The most lovely thing south of the Wall." He said, smiling.

"Is there anything North of the wall that could be described as lovely?" You asked. Your face heated up at his compliment, but you couldn't lose track, this man was the son of Ned Stark, and your uncle and mother's husband burned his family alive. No doubt Robb would want you dead.

"I do not know, but my brother Jon is a man of the Night's Watch and perhaps you can ask him that." He said.

"And however will we meet? We are a ways from the North, your grace."

"You stay and help my men, and you'll find out soon enough, Lady-" he looked at you expectantly.

"It's of little consequence." You said, and finished loading up your cart. All the men around you were moribund, and what little you could do for them was already done. "I do not care to know what is North of the wall when the south has suffering enough."

"It had to be done! They killed my father." He said, blue eyes shining. And my uncle killed yours, you thought.

"If you'll excuse me, my King.' You said, claiming into the septa's cart.

"You have me at a disadvantage, my Lady. You know my name but I do not know yours." He said, as the cart began to move.

"Why does your grace assume I am a lady?" You shouted, smiling slightly. He lips parted but he watched you with a smile in his eyes. He was a wolf, he liked a challenge, and you were far more enticing than this war.

"There is enough silk thread, but we are using a lot more bandages than we prepared." The head Septa told you. "Perhaps you could make some more. There is cotton thread aplenty and your time is not taken up by prayers." You could hear the hesitation in her voice. It was rare for smallfolk to know how to knit and weave well enough to make the tight bandages needed to stop bleeding. However, they hesitated to ask you for more help than you were willing to give.

"Of course," you said. You took the spools of undyed cotton and the wooden needles she handed you. "I am happy to help as needed."

These people, even the Northerners, had bent their knee to your uncle and mother. The King and Queen were the Mother and Father of the Realm. When your sister took her throne, you would also be expected to serve them. You didn't see why you couldn't start now.

You sat by the fire and waxed the wood, and heated it till it had covered the needles enough for them to be slick. You were nearly done with the first long bandage when you felt a presence beside you.

"Your grace," you said, standing up to bow to him.

"Sit down, I do not mean to keep you from your duties, Lady- the name of whom I do not know." He said, smiling down at you. He had washed up a little, his wet hair was a dark red and curling at the edges. His face had been freshly scrubbed a light pink, and he no longer wore metal armor but instead boiled leather.

"What is that for?" He asked, gesturing to the bandage that you had just finished casting off.

"Bandages to stop the bleeding, and to keep maggots from wounds." You said, jesting the last part.

"I do not envy your work," he said, fingering the white cloth. "Nor do I wish to see one more wound festering with maggots. Why do they make you do this?" He could, of course, simply stop wounding men, but you didn't dare suggest this.

"The Septa have to pray, and they do most of the healing. I am merely making bandages for them." You said.

"You are a lady," he said. He took the cloth into his hands. "This proves it."

"And how would a man know, your grace." You asked, smiling. "Maybe I was just a lady’s chambermaid.”

"My sisters were instructed by the Septa, and Arya and Sansa argued over stitches and shawls long enough for me to know that if your work matches Sansa's and not Arya's, you are a Lady." He smirked. He was a man and yet he’d paid enough attention to his little sisters’ quarrels to know this?

You had perhaps judged him too harshly. Westerosi men were barbarians, your father had often joked that his Westerosi cousins had failed at trade because they bought coarse hemp thinking it was fine lace. You were betrothed to your cousin, once. The thought of him nearly crippled you.

You didn't reply to the King. He had a light in his eyes when he spoke of his family, and you had to keep reminding yourself that his man's father was Hand to the King who ordered Dany’s death.

"I've always wondered, what do the Septa pray for?" He asked. "I've always taught to keep the old gods, myself."

"For you on the Iron Throne, I imagine." You said, before you could stop yourself. He probably meant the question rhetorically, and the nervous way about him told you he wasn't any more comfortable than you in this conversation.

His face turned serious. "I’ve no desire to sit the Iron Throne." He said.

"Yet you are fighting a war to overthrow the King," you said.

"Robb, who is this?" A voice behind him asked. You turned to see Lady Catelyn, his mother.

You rose, and curtseyed. “My lady,” you said.

“Mother, this is Lady-“ Robb stopped at that.

“Lady Y/N Zaldrises,” you lied. The name you’d been using ever since you fled from the Dothraki. Zaldrises, Valyrian for Dragon. You were the blood of the dragon after all, and Valyrian was your mother tongue. Your father’s house was not just a family as old as Targaryens, but would be recognized instantly by her and Robb, as it was common knowledge the queen had married him.

“I’ve never heard of the name Zaldrises,” she said politely, her smile faltering.

“An uncommon name here, but common south of the Narrow Sea in Volantis, my Lady.” You assured her.

Robb looked at you and his mother, gauging your reactions to each other. There was a hope in his eyes you could not understand.

“They’re waiting for you,” Catelyn said.

“I will see you around, Lady Y/N,” Robb said. He took your hand in his and pressed his lips to your knuckles. He lingered there for a second, his eyes never leaving yours.

Your breath caught in your throat. Seven hells. What had you gotten yourself into.

[bmaxwell]

The Stanley Parable Ultra Deluxe

I’m a big fan of the late Terry Pratchett of Discworld fame. Underneath the silly stories about elves, a bumbling city watch force, a would-be wizzard, a trio of country witches and so much more, there is wisdom. And anger. Anger at a world that treats people as things, anger at a world that puts people in boxes, and anger at those who “think that serious is the opposite of funny.”

That last one stuck with me. Some of my favorite works manage to be funny while being rooted in decency and heart. It’s a tough needle to thread, and The Stanley Parable manages to do this in a rare way. To say it breaks the fourth wall would be a gross understatement. It’s a game about breaking the fourth wall. It is all the way up its own ass 100% of the time. It’s constantly huffing its own farts, then asking you how you feel about that, writing down your response, then laughing and throwing it away, then fishing it out of the garbage and crying because the writer doesn’t know how to make a great game and no one loves him, then writing that all into the game. 

Do you laugh? Cry? Get a little uncomfortable and wonder if the writer needs help, wonder whether they are actually, really happy or actually as tortured as this all seems to be? HA HA HA HA...?

If you played writer/developer Davey Wreden’s The Beginner’s Guide which you didn’t, you’ll know exactly what I mean. Mostly because if you’ve played The Beginner’s Guide then you’ve definitely played The Stanley Parable. TBG is a gut punch of an experience, about fraud complex and the torture that some creative types go through. 

The Stanley Parable Ultra Deluxe gets into this same territory. There are screenshots of actual, real negative reviews from Steam planted in the game. The narrator talks about trying to reach those people and make them happy too, but it’s impossible. Those negative views of his game reinforce the nagging voice inside that says “You can’t do this, you somehow tricked people into liking your last game but now they’re onto you, and your fraud will be exposed to the world.” Every compliment is out of pity, every criticism is deserved and justified. This is relatable to me. 

Look I made a thing, but I don’t want approval but please pay attention to me even though I don’t care about that, and I know that praise is all just pity, and silence is indifference or disgust. Please look at the thing I made and don’t compliment me, criticize me, or ignore me. Please?

I’ve managed to ramble on quite a bit about the game without actually describing it in any way. Well done, me. It’s a game about an office worker drone suddenly finding himself alone in the office, and a funny British narrator describing his every action. And every inaction. Someone took BioShock’s Would you kindly? and made a game out of it. It’s a raw, overshared earnestness thrown in a blender with funny writing.

And it is smart, and incredibly funny. I’ve largely misrepresented the game here as I’ve been playing the new content in The Stanley Parable: Ultra Deluxe Edition™. There’s a lot of self doubt and conflicted feelings front and center in the writing. Even when it’s uncomfortable and sad, it’s still got a satchel full of dark humor slung over its shoulder. 

Comedy is hard to pull off in gaming, and The Stanley Parable does it better than any game I’ve ever played, and it isn’t close. If I’m being vague, it’s because the humor works in the context of the game in a way that typing it out would do a disservice to. WORDS. The narrator is constantly, uh, narrating. You enter a room with 2 doors in front of you and the narrator immediately says “Stanley walked through the door on the left” and you can do that, or not. You can linger in a supply closet for far longer than any human ever should, just to hear the narrator get increasingly exasperated with you. 

It subverts your expectations over and over again. It also has some great achievements, for those of you who celebrate:

It’s a unique experience, one that wouldn’t work in any other medium. Those are few and far between. 

[ladyfranklin]

Franklin tapped her heel against the hard floor, she could feel a bit of sarcasm in the older cannibal's voice as she complimented her abilities with a needle, even if the other was quite savage and bitter, when people complimented her dress making abilities and such. "Well, madam, I may not be the most..easiest person to get along with, I still need judgement and criticism for the way I do my work!~ I may throw a fit when ungrateful bastards don't appreciate my designs and hardwork..It helps me grow at my occupation.."

"When I was a young boy, I wasn't allowed to play with girl's toys, especially since back then I wasn't what I was now, but the moment I got rid of my horrid bible thumping father and ran off I managed to be free and feel comfortable once more in my skin while skinning others!~ HaHaHa!~" She reminisced on old times, how all of them were tricked into thinking she was an entirely different person and managed to indulge in her sin.

Lady Franklin then looked at Susan and her magazine, gently taking it and seeing how one of her dresses had made it into a column, a genuine giggle escaped the lady in white's voice "Oh, isn't that marvelous ma'am!? I had no clue that I managed to be in it.." It was rare to see her happy for such a tame reason, normally she'd smile to somebody being ripped apart or skinned alive but this was different. "Fans? Oh, no, no, I am not a woman who'd enjoy those things as I prefer my peace and quiet, you know..? Interacting with others can be exhausting at times that's why I let Rosie do most of the talking as people claim I'm too rough and temperamental when I talk for too long.." Franklin's hidden gaze was locked into the page as she had ripped off the page and folded it putting the paper inside her dress pocket, handing the magazine to Susan again.

"Unfashionable?" The redhead moved to be next to the old lady "That may be true, ehehehe..BUT being unfashionable and such is what makes you unique, is it not? It's better than being as basic like those outsiders who dare enter our town..eugh..how I despise children!" She shivered at the thought of them but that soon changed when she thought of the many ways to cook one "Though, I've heard they can be delicious if served properly, unfortunately Rosue hasn't given me the chance to do so.."

She despised this, nobody ever took her seriously when it came to these things, atleast Rosie wouldn't do such things to her. Another reason to lov— erm, admire her very presence with how the rose treated Franklin as her equal but the paler woman soon looked down at Susan with her smile slowly getting smaller.

"I must say ma'am, you have a way with words that it makes one forget how scratchier than a pissed off cat your voice is, people would think you'd have at least a cough drop in your bag, old woman!" She was a fan of these little arguments, it made the afterlife seem less boring and worth living but it would still be of annoyance to her. "You say I've fallen for the likes of Rosie as if this entire town hasn't, all of them adore and respect her!~ They come to her when trouble is afoot, but never me..but atleast I have a hand for the needle and material things! People do enjoy my dresses and accessories in this town, what would Rosie do without me to help her~?"

Franklin didn't answer Susan's last question, just ignoring it due to the fact how some of it is true, whenever these situations happened the lady in white would adjust her hat, along with ruffling her hair even more, her full face was only reserved for one person...

[yandere-sins]

hello! ive never requested before so i apologise if this is vague or doesn’t really work as a prompt, but how about a yan doctor or nurse and a darling in hospital? like, the yan using check ups as an excuse to touch their darling and switching drugs n meds so they can’t be discharged and stuff like that. thank you! :) take care, yeah?

Ah, the dependency ~ Delicious. Thanks for requesting, I hope you enjoy it! Take care as well ^-^

Rated Lime + Warning for medical things like syringes, injections, amputations mentioned, drugging, etc.

»»———————— ♡ ————————««   

"Is it... going to hurt?"

Even though you didn't want to hear the answer if you were right, you still asked, your voice filled with hesitations. There had been so many injections, so many needles, pills, and ointments. Some helped, some hurt, some your body rejected outright. Everything was an experiment when you had a mysterious illness these days, something rarely heard of. But you had signed off these experiments in hopes to get better someday, with the little chances you had. If it was going to hurt you again, you at least wanted to be prepared, even if it was still scary after so many times.

Your nurse gave you a slight nod, her fox-red hair dancing around her face as she moved it. She only recently styled it this way, and you liked it on her. She brought change into your room when it never seemed to come for you. Forcing a brave smile to your lips, you thanked her for her sincerity. She had never been someone to mask the truth, no matter how harsh it was, and though it was the reason you cried yourself to sleep at night, you felt thankful that she had never lied to you.

The staff, but especially your nurse and doctor, had become something like a second family to you. Specifically, when your actual family couldn't be with you, you could always count on at least one of them visiting you before or after work, having lunch with you, or sitting by your bedside when you cried hopelessly from frustration and pain, holding your hand.

You three had long gone from a patient/healthcare worker relationship to something more akin to friendship, the two telling you about their lives as if you had known each other for years. You laughed with them, cried with them, and gave them your opinions on matters way beyond a professional relationship. You wouldn't have wanted it any other way. In this chaos, they kept you sane and grounded with so much kindness that you'd never be able to repay.

Lately, Nurse had confided in you about her crush, who seemed to be oblivious to her feelings. She confessed to you how much she wished they'd notice all the care and effort she put into their relationship, how deeply she felt for them, and the extra hours she worked to make them happy. You weren't sure if she did it for money or because her crush worked in the hospital too, but either way, you suggested she didn't overwork herself for their sake and straight out told them how she felt. With that, you boosted her confidence, telling her she was amazing, kind, pretty, and fun to be around. You think it helped to hear, though you weren't sure if she was working less now, seeing her almost double as much.

"The new haircut looks good on you, by the way," you complimented her, seeing how she must have gone to the hairdresser. Her nails, too, seemed professionally made, and she had started wearing make-up. Hopefully, she did it for herself, making her feel more comfortable. However, you still noticed since you saw her every day without fail. A soft blush crept over her cheeks as she pushed some strands behind her ear, brilliant earrings shining forth from her earlobe. You never had something as expensive as that, but you felt happy for her more than you were jealous.

She chuckled as she came closer, helping you sit up slowly to prepare you for your next treatment. Even though you had long lost your shyness around the people here, her gentle touch and soft voice brought you great comfort, making it easy to come to terms with her opening your hospital gown, exposing your back as she let you lean against her for support. Ultimately, you were too weak to sit upright for a long time on your own, so you gladly took advantage of all the help you could get.

"Compliments won't spare you the needle, I'm afraid," she joked encouragingly, and you let out a soft laugh, trying not to trigger a coughing fit.

"Really? Worth the try," you played along, a knock on the door interrupting you two.

When you tried to lean back a little to greet the person looking less sick than you were, she kept you in her arms, patting your back reassuringly, whispering, "It's okay. You can always rely on me."

You nodded against her shoulder, and she called out, "Come inside! We're all dressed!"

Doctor entered the room with a chuckle falling from his lips as he heard what the nurse said, and you couldn't help but smile as you saw him healthy and happy. Even though he told you he'd be gone for just a few days to secure some investments for his recent projects - which you knew more about than you ever thought you'd hear from medicine - you had already started missing him since the day he left.

The two of them embodied very different things for you. Your nurse was warm and caring, both in how she acted and looked at you, making you feel right at home and cared for. But the doctor had always been cool and composed, standing by your side when even the hardest news had to be announced about your condition, assuring you he'd do anything to cure you like a bastion of calm.

Walking around your bed, he sat down next to you on the opposite edge, and you looked at him from the corner of your eyes, smiling. "It's good to see you again, Doc," you mumbled, hoping that your exhaustion wasn't covering the genuine happiness you felt. He leaned a bit further back, lips curling into one of his brilliant smiles - you always thought if not doctor, he'd have made a great salesperson - before replying, "I am so happy to be back with you, [Name]!"

Your name falling off his lips was sweeter than the chocolates the two snuck into your room after their shifts to lift your mood after a long day of treatments. If there were any people you trusted the most in your life, it was those two, a perfect team, always looking out for you. You hoped that anyone terrible ill like you had such caring friends in this profession. Nothing could be better than the care of two devoted specialists.

You had to admit, after all this time, you had developed a little bit of a crush. But really, how could you not?

Doctor gave your file a quick look through, though it seemed he was mostly familiar with the treatment of the last few days. Little sparks of happiness went through you, knowing he cared enough to check up on you even when he wasn't here. All the while Nurse kept cleaning your back and sanitizing it, presumably for another injection.

Just as you expected, once Doc was finished, he got up, grabbing the already prepared utensils from a tray, and you saw him press out the air of the syringe after filling it with a dark-colored serum. "I had a chance to talk to some outside doctors about your condition, and they suggested this treatment. I'm afraid it might burn a little once inside your body."

"Whatever you have to do, Doc," you mumbled, turning your head to bury it in the nurse's shoulder. She wrapped her arms under yours, stabilizing you while also patting your head comfortingly. You heard the doctor's steps behind you before feeling his usually cold hand against your back, patting down your spine before taking a deep breath. You did the same, as had you three practiced a hundred times by now. "I trust you," you whispered after letting out your breath, a little mantra they made you say every time before a new injection or medication. It had already become a part of your routine, something you'd probably do for the rest of your life whenever you had to get an injection or rely on someone else to do the best for you.

The sting was passable, even though you were sure you arched your back a little as an instinctive reaction. However, Nurse holding you, the smell of her peach soap filling your nose, she corrected your position as necessary. You had nothing to do but rely on the two of them as they worked, but you also felt grateful when it was over.

Cringing a little, you tried to pull yourself away from Nurse so you could lay down, but she kept you in place, hushing you softly. Admittedly, your strength left you immediately after the shot. As expected, your back began to flame up, the serum creeping through your veins like lit gasoline. All the more relief you felt as the Doctor's cold hands returned, slowly rubbing your back and massaging the new medication into it. But it helped that his big, strong hands were doing it, finding every little burning vein and soothing it with skillful touches.

They worked to get your clothes back on properly before settling you back in your premium bed. Luckily, with how severe your condition was, you had been granted a private room with all the amenities you needed. However, your family had once told you the secret that it had been the doctor who paid for all of this out of his pocket. It was a debt no one would ever be able to repay, and you would be eternally grateful, as you told them many, many times while high on pain medication.

Now that you felt the new medicine take over your body, your exhaustion became overwhelming, pulling you back to sleep. You truly were endlessly grateful for all their help. The way they caressed your cheeks as you slowly drifted off, exhausted and fighting against your illness with the new medication you got. You were much too hazy to feel their hands all over you, making sure you were comfortable while they touched and examined you. Light, fluttering touches all over your face like fleeting kisses and cold fingers caressing your body, leaving a prickling sensation everywhere they could reach. But you trusted them, knowing they cared for you so much.

»»———————— ♡

"You think that was too much?" Doctor asked as Nurse helped him out of his shirt, the two changing their clothes before going back to bid you goodnight and go home. Throwing the shirt across the room, she leaned forward, catching his lips with hers, your taste lingering on them and him lapping it up eagerly. It was her way of soothing his anxiety, telling him to be confident, and he couldn't help but eat right out of her hands—or this time, mouth.

"It's for their best. We can't risk them getting close to being healed again. The last virus was too weak for the treatment, and the medication had an easy job working. We almost lost them."

"You're right," he sighed, a pang of slight guilt residing in both stomaches. "I just wish it didn't have to be another virus. They are getting weaker and weaker with every injection."

For a moment, the two focused somewhere in the room, thinking of how they had almost lost you to a tricky lung inflammation just a little while ago. But his fingers around her waist tightened, pulling them both out of their thoughts. Staring at each other, they leaned in once again, uniting in a softer kiss this time, both imagining it was you against their lips.

After pouring so much care and love into you, they couldn't risk losing you. Neither to illness nor to anything nor anyone on this planet. You were the only reason that made their lives worth living. You pulled them from their stressful, monotonous everyday into a happy, exciting one. One, where they thought about the future and how they'd shape it with you by their side forever. Until death did you part, just like they swore on their wedding day. Vows they'd love to repeat with you in front of the altar some day.

"They won't. I'll check up even more on them, and you stay ready to have surgery at any point if something happens."

Embracing each other, their foreheads touched, hopefulness overshadowing the madness of their actions. "You know," Nurse mused, lips curling into a grin. "It would have been easier to let one of their legs die off—or both."

"Mhm," Doctor hummed in agreement. "Then you could stay home with them, take care of them, and greet me at the door every day."

"I could take them out for walks and cook together," Nurse added happily.

"Oh, I am sure our darling can do much more than that. We'd go on vacations together, to the theater--"

"--watch soccer on the weekends," Nurse finished his sentence, and they once again joined in a kiss, this time much more passionate as they each thought about the future that awaited them with you. Doctor's lips trailed down her jaw to her neck until he found her collarbones, wishing it was your body that reacted to him with ragged breaths and pushing itself closer to him. Just like you did whenever he touched you since you enjoyed his cool hands against your always feverish skin.

"We could warm your bed while you shower," she added, thinking of all the cute outfits she'd dress you in, nicknames she'd teach you to call her. All the kisses you two would have, breathing only each other while Doctor wasn't home.

He chuckled into her shoulder. "And more," Doc muttered, thinking of all the times he'd take you out to dinner and feed you from his plate before taking you to a nice hotel. Showing you a very special view while he got to admire you just by himself.

"So much more."

Finally, the two pulled away with a longing sigh, Doctor's fingers brushing over her cheek. "Soon, my love. Soon we'll be perfect. Just you, our sweet darling, and me."

"I can't wait," she whispered, excited for the future he promised her. "Let's hurry and check up on them."

With a quick smooch, they got dressed and packed their things, walking back to your room hurriedly to give you one last check for the day. Nurse made sure you had enough drugged candies to get through the night while Doctor adjusted the secret cameras he had installed so they could watch you from the comfort of their - your future - home. Kissing a corner of your mouth each, they left the room quietly while you were still in a daze, barely able to open your eyes, much less form a coherent thought in your brain.

Hand in hand, they left, happy everything from getting the virus to administering it to their darling went smoothly. Their future with you was close enough to grab. And if the crippling debt they'd put on your family wasn't enough to become their housepet, then maybe they'd have to get rid of one of your beautiful legs after all.

[ladycatofwinterfell]

About the praise thing. I have a head canon.

The first time Cat called Ned “handsome” he was confused and started blushing and stammering because no one ever thinks he’s handsome. Cat doesn’t understand why people think that because she thinks he’s very cute even though he’s not extremely hot like Brandon. So she likes to randomly call him handsome to get that reaction out of him.

I just love the thought of Catelyn being absolutely delighted by Ned’s reactions when she compliments him. Sooooo have a super short drabble

Catelyn looked up as Ned entered her chamber. She had not seen him since the previous night, and was quite surprised about his spontaneous visit. He rarely came to her during the days unless they had business they needed to conduct together.

“Is there anything I can do for you, my lord?” she asked.

She once more turned her eyes down to the dress in her hands. It was not quite finished, but she imagined she would be happy with the result. Sansa would be so pretty in it. There was nothing Catelyn liked more than making her daughter clothes. Robb had never been interested in it, but Sansa was always so sweet.

“I was told you had Sansa with you” he answered. “I wanted to see her.”

“It was time for her to rest, so she’s in the nursery.”

“Alright.”

She expected him to leave after that. Not that she wished for him to leave, though he had no reason to stay. She enjoyed his company, she liked when he was with her. The more she grew to know him the more she wanted to be around him, he was a good man. And a good husband.

“What are you doing, my lady?” he asked, coming further into the room.

Catelyn could not help the smile that graced her face at his question. She held up the little dress for him to see.

“I am making a dress for Sansa” she told him.

“It’s very pretty, I’m sure she will be happy with it.”

“She likes pretty things, our daughter.”

“Well, she takes after her mother in beauty.”

“She also has a handsome father.”

Catelyn had lowered the dress and picked up her needle again, continuing to sew. It took her a few moments to notice her husband had gone quiet.

He had turned his face downwards, and avoided her gaze when she attempted to look him in the eye.

A knot tied in her stomach and she felt herself go cold. Why wouldn’t he look at her? Had she somehow offended him? What had she even said? She couldn’t remember it. She had not put much thought behind it. And oh how she regretted that.

“My lord, do forgive me” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

“No, my lady– I… I don’t know. There’s nothing to forgive.”

He looked up at her for a very short moment and she caught notion of that his cheeks had flushed red under his beard.

“Clearly I have somehow offended you” she pointed out.

She wished to know what it was she had said so that she would not repeat it.

“You have not offended me, Catelyn” he sighed, and his gaze flickered all over the room.

“Then what did I do?”

“You called me handsome.”

His voice was almost as low as a whisper, as if he was ashamed of saying it.

“You are handsome” she found herself responding.

She tried to keep the smile off her face, it felt inappropriate. Once she realised she was failing she had to raise a hand to cover her mouth.

So that was what had flustered him so. The cold feeling had been replaced by a flutter in her heart she only associated with her youth, when a handsome boy would kiss her hand and tell her she was beautiful. No handsome boy had kissed her hand, she had just told her husband he was handsome. And he was so thrown off by it that he could barely get out words.

It was with wonder she discovered just how much she liked that. He was so sweet.

“You need not try to appease me with flattery, my lady, that is unnecessary” he said.

“I’m not saying that to appease you, I’m saying that because I believe you are handsome.”

She had not thought so first time she laid eyes on him, but it had grown on her. She wondered how she had not seen it before when it was so obvious then. Perhaps not handsome in the traditional way, but in his own way. And she certainly liked that way. She would have to tell him much more often.

Slowly Catelyn put aside what she had in her hands and pushed herself up from the chair she had been sitting in. As she approached him he looked up at her somewhat sheepishly.

“You are handsome, Eddard Stark” she whispered, laying her arms around him.

She did not know where she had found the confidence and courage to do that, but there was something with it all that made her unable to keep herself away from him. She wanted more of that wonderful feeling.

“You may not see it yourself, but I see it” she continued, delighted by the smile that was tugging at the corners of his lips.

She would be able to stay alive for hundreds of years purely on that feeling. No food was necessary, no drink was necessary, she never had to pray again. Seeing him blush as she called him handsome was all she needed. Where had that come from? Since when did she gain such happiness from it?

“You are much too kind” he said, still avoiding her gaze.

“No, it is only what you deserve.”

She would have to do that much more often.

[ewitsren]

Dating hakkai headcanons 🥺💗

@#! HAKKAI AS YOUR BOYFRIEND

pairings: shiba hakkai x reader

cw/tws ⚠️: fluff, mentions of touching

requested: yes

barrista's note ☕: this is a little late i'm so sorry my love :( i really hope you'll like it!

#HAKKAI

friends to lovers

so,, hakkai is definitely that type of boyfriend who follows you around like a puppy and never wants to be away from you <3

he looked so casual while asking you out for the first time but he was literally dying inside, it actually took a long time for him to gather his confidence and ask you out yuzuha kinda forced him into it

hakkai always makes sure you're comfortable around him, since you two were friends for a while before dating he knows what to and what not to do/say around you. he's so careful not to hurt your feelings in any ways <3

whisper him words of affirmation and touch him somehow while cuddling, hakkai often needs emotional support + comfort and he craves for your touch

he loves hugging you! randomly wraps his arms around your waist and lays you on his chest, hugs you from behind, picks you up, spoons you... he lives to give you any kind of an hug

coming to meet his family, yuzuha is really welcoming towards you; at the very first time you visited the shiba house she made tea + snacks for you and sat you down to talk so you two could get to know each other

you'd think meeting taiju would be hard but i can't say taiju really gave a shit, sorry :( although he managed to give you a kind pat on the shoulder somehow

hakkai is your boyfriend and best friend at the same time, isn't that the best? you two gossip about the people you both don't like for hours like old ladies, you do everything together and you have an amazing bound <3

shower him with kisses and affection! he might seem all tough and cool but we all know hakkai is actually just a giant baby so he wants your attention

needles to say, hakkai also has a vulnerable, sensitive side and you'll see this clearly in your relationship. he doesn't just come to you and rant about his problems but you can feel it in the way he acts. he lets himself to be openly vulnerable around you because he knows that you'd never judge him in any way. comfort him and tell him it's gonna be okay :( sometimes he really needs to hear you're there for him

he fiddles with your fingers whenever he's stressed/anxious about something. the feeling of your hand fitting perfectly into his helps him to calm his mind

he's the type to send you a new song every night before going to sleep <3 he also has a few playlists for you

hakkai has all the love in the world when he looks at you... he adores you, he loves you in a way that no one else can, he thinks every single detail about you is beautiful

he never forgets to compliment you! he notices the slightest change right away since he's extra observant when it comes to you

would 100% do your nails <3

arguements with hakkai would rarely happen and they wouldn't be bad. he knows every relationship has its' ups and downs, he's determined to handle them smoothly

shares his earphones with you when you take the bus together <3

like i said, hakkai is extra observant when it comes to you so he notices even the smallest change in your mood. he's not the best at comforting people through words so he cuddles with you all day and puts on a sitcom on tv just to make some noise whenever you're feeling down. the way his fingers run through your hair, the way he squeezes your shoulder, the way his hands wander around on your face so gently is enough to make you feel like everything's gonna be okay

he's always so gentle, patient and considerate towards you <3 you're one of the few people he cherishes the most and hakkai's willing to do anything to protect you, keep you safe.

dates with hakkai are all fun and romantic <3 aside from his tasks in toman he doesn't have much to do so as soon as he's done with school he picks you up to do something. hakkai absolutely loves driving you around the busy city full of people and everything on his bike, he'd drive you across the city even for the smallest thing. anyways, going back to the dates; you wanna eat? he probably knows all the good places. you wanna go shopping? you're getting matching clothes. you wanna chill at home? he has a list of movies he wants to watch with you. he's willing to do anything that would make you happy <3

he's 10/10 to go shopping with, he picked up a good fashion sense from mitsuya and he loves picking outfits for you <3 also he carries all the bags. what an angel he is, right?

in a nutshell, he's nothing but the sweetest and the kindest boyfriend you can ever have so you better not break his heart :3

@ewitsren 's work, do not translate/repost on other apps or platforms.

[ncssian]

“Dress” for the elucien drabble

(If you’ve gotten a lot of these you don’t have to do mine!)

im going to set these in the same world as A Favor so readers can consider them peeks into elucien’s relationship before they broke up. these can also be read as standalones so you don’t need to have read AF to understand them!

***

It’s not so much that Lucien invites his girlfriend to the Vanserras’ annual Christmas party but that Elain invites herself. She loves all the things he despises: old rich white people, stuffy formal gatherings, and opportunities to dress up. So when the gilded invitation from the Vanserra manor reaches Lucien’s doorstep, Elain is the first to insist they both go.

Nevermind that Lucien can’t stand to be in the same room as his father and older brothers without feeling nauseated.

Meanwhile, Elain is having the time of her life. Lush green silk drapes over her pale skin and clings to each of her slight curves, and every single person in the room is aware of it—of her. No one has yet to compliment her or her gown out loud, but Lucien has been with Elain long enough to know why: when you’re easily the prettiest person in the room, most people find it redundant to compliment you.

She reminds him of Demeter covered in ivy, or Aphrodite wearing nothing but her shell. So when he accidentally steps on the train of her gown and hears the unmistakable sound of fabric tearing, it seems like the entire hall falls silent.

Elain gasps, twisting around to find a new slit trailing up the back of her legs. Her eyes move from the rip in her dress to Lucien in horror, and beneath the horror, growing rage.

Lucien is quick to set his champagne glass aside, hurrying to cover Elain’s backside and to usher her out of the room. He hears low muttering rise from the nearby guests as he tries to do damage control, grabbing Elain by the waist and nearly shoving her into the abandoned hallway.

“I’m going to kill you,” Elain hisses to him once they’re out of sight from the rest of the party. “And then I’m going to kill myself out of humiliation.”

“Sure thing, dove,” Lucien answers. He tugs her into a guest half-bathroom and locks the door behind them. Taking Elain’s clutch out of her hand, he digs around for the mini sewing kit he knows she carries everywhere.

Finding the kit and some safety pins, Lucien drops to one knee before Elain and flashes her a quick grin. “See? Easy fix.”

Elain gapes in disbelief as Lucien turns her around so the back of her dress faces him. “You’re not actually trying to stitch together a foot long tear. The thread doesn’t even match! Do you even know how to use a needle?”

“Is having breakdowns at the slightest inconvenience another cute quirk of yours I haven’t discovered yet?” Lucien says in a flat tone that implies Shut the fuck up. He unravels a length of black thread and bites it off with his teeth.

Elain falls quiet to watch him pull the thread through a needle. Or maybe she’s just watching his mouth as he holds two safety pins between his lips.

The thought amuses Lucien but he doesn’t show it. He hones in on the tear in Elain’s dress, using skilled hands and a sharp focus to mend the fabric as best as he can.

Elain keeps staring at him over her shoulder as he works. “Where did you learn this?” she asks once a good few inches have been stitched back together. It’s a big tear though, and keeping the whole thing unnoticeable will be difficult.

Running out of thread, Lucien ties off the final stitch and takes a pin from his mouth instead. In answer to Elain’s question, he smirks and nods at the hundred thousand dollar bathroom they’re standing in. “I grew up like this.” His education accounts for shit tons of seemingly useless knowledge—the very opposite of Elain, who rarely speaks of her past but once used the words “trailer trash” to describe it.

As Lucien handily pins together the rest of the slit (really, why is her dress fabric so thin in December of all months?), Elain sighs quietly to herself. “You were supposed to rip the dress off at the end of the night, you fool.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Lucien hums to her. “I still can.”

[dearestones]

Hetalia Matchup: England

Warnings: Fluff. 

@oneofmanyinterests Request: Hello! If you're doing match ups, I'd love to be matched romantically with a Hetalia guy~

As I believe personality and interests matter much more than looks, I'll omit them, if that's alright.

Thank you~

I enjoy being artistic very much. My skills include drawing, painting, embroidery, crochet, cooking and baking, and even some sewing. I love traditional and historical Chinese clothing and art; it's one of my very favourite. When I cook, I feel like I'm in my own world, and I enjoy making food from multiple cultures. I can even fold wontons and braid dough for bread.

I've been referred to as a "little old lady" since forever. My family says I've been more mature than my age would suggest, and my friends came to me for advice and wisdom.

I'm a loner who enjoys listening to music from all over the world. Rain is my favourite weather, and tea and my cats are perfect companions for such days. I love the colours and the cool, crisp air of autumn. Much peace and tranquility is found within the moon for me. Night is the best time.

I rarely ever get angry and I can be very patient. Many have told me that they feel comfortable and calm when I'm around. Irritation does come around, but that's mainly due to loud people or not feeling well.

This isn't related to my personality, but I've dealt with depression and anxiety for many years, along with often crippling migraines.

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After reviewing the information given, I think that you best pair well with England!

First of all, England appreciates that you believe that personality and interests matter more than looks. He takes pride in his appearances and often dresses and styles himself as the perfect gentleman. He won’t mention it, but he knows that there are certain qualities to his features that may hinder others from pursuing him romantically. That said, he also appreciates how you look and tells you that no matter what, you are as lovely and as radiant as a freshly plucked rose.

England is instantly enamored when he realizes that you are very artistic. He may not be as inclined as art as other Nations like the Italy brothers, Austria, or Japan, but he knows his way around needles and thread, thank you very much. 

Whenever it rains or the both of you don’t have plans that are set in stone, England would love to sit with you, knitting together. Seeking out domesticity had always been at the back of his mind, but now that he has you in his life, he’ll make sure that these weekly embroidery/crocheting sessions always happen. 

England will show off his skills, give you tips on how to create life in your projects, and he’ll give you some of his pieces for you to wear or show off. Please compliment him! He may not show it all the time, but it would absolutely melt his heart if you acknowledge his hard work. 

Once the both of you get to know each other better and if England spills the beans about his existence as the immortal representation of his homeland, he might take you on work trips around the world! You’ll get the chance to get private cooking lessons with various Nations and try out the local cuisines. Furthermore, once he realizes that you’re enamored with Chinese traditions and culture, in regards to their clothing and art, he’ll even make an appointment with China himself. (Please don’t look too enthused about this, though. England can get a little jealous and will feel inadequate when compared to a cultural behemoth and mainstay like China). 

Please cook for England! He loves international cuisine and knowing that he can get such high quality food in the comfort of his home because of your talent makes him all the more likely to savor your cooking. He has his own skills and spins on the foods that he enjoys, so be sure to indulge him!

England might tease you a little for being such a little old lady, but he means well at the end of the day. If you object to such a name, he will immediately stop and apologize. If you happen to adore this little nickname, he’ll tease you over and over again because he finds it ironic that he’s centuries older than you, but he’s seemingly younger than what he seems to be. He’ll encourage you to live life to the fullest and that you should remember that your youth is something that must be treasured. Do enjoy yourself won’t you? He doesn’t want you to waste your life not having fun. 

Rain is your favorite type of weather? Well, what do you know, you’re in England! His weather has always been a sore spot, especially when Nations from warmer climates come to his country for international conferences. It’s not always rainy! However, when he sees you look so content and at ease with his weather, he finds himself relaxing. He’ll brew a fresh pot of tea (always your favorite flavor during times such as these), and he’ll make sure that his cat is nestled close to you in case you want the warmth. Again, there’s the air of domesticity that he craves and he’s thankful to whatever god is out there that you’re in his life.

England would like to think that he’s calm and rational thinking, but that is far from the case. He’s a firebrand at best and an absolute petty menace at worst. When you come into his life, he finds himself soothing his anger more often than not and dulling the acidity of his irritation so that he isn’t as much of a prat as usual. (Don’t worry, he’s still a prat when it comes to his coworkers, but when it comes to you, he’s a perfect gentleman). 

Whenever he’s feeling particularly incensed, he’ll seek you out. If the both of you are comfortable with it, England will either drape himself over your shoulders, nuzzle into your stomach while you’re seated, or hug you close to him. He can’t stop himself, your very presence is so soothing and it chases most of his worries away!

Finally, England has had bouts with depression and anxiety. He’s always felt like he had to measure and compete with other Nations, especially since he used to be the black sheep of Europe. Nowadays, he isn’t as inclined to feel as inadequate (he has long since been comfortable with his position once he was no longer the world’s greatest empire), but he still has tips from way back when that can help you. He’ll brew you the most calming of teas, teach you breathing exercises, and hold you close if the world ever becomes too much for you. 

All in all, you’re in good hands with England! The romance between the two of you is filled with sweet and tender love, one that is always subtle, but warm and comforting to feel. 

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HETALIA AXIS POWERS/WORLD SERIES MASTERLIST