#gimme some oven

[triedin2015]

I made this for our street's chili cookoff. One of the guests is Muslim and doesn't eat certain meats (and only halal meats for the ones she does eat) so I decided to make a veggie chili. I have to say -- this came through as really meaty in spite of it not being!

I made it as called for, using quinoa (not farro), except I only used four cups of broth. That was perfect consistency-wise. I also didn't use the cipotles in adobe; I used paprika, which was a substitue I found online after the store didn't have an cans of chipotle in adobo. And really, it was good!

Definitely recommend this as a veggie chili if you want something that doesn't taste too veggie.

[desiredcaramellatte]

My inbox is fully open if you’d like to request anything <3!

Guess who found a way of horridly distorting their text via google docs to where only I can read it so I can write in public places :> let’s say the font is not arial

Anyways, feel free to spam my inbox with requests if you’d like, my bus ride is over an hour one way so requests would be mighty helpful

[zhooniyaa-waagosh]

You can buy a roast, cut it up into cubes, then throw it in the slow cooker with a cup of broth, onions, garlic, and whatever seasonings you want. Then you can put the cooked meat on a sheet pan and broil it so that it gets delightfully crispy on the edges. Then you can throw that on some seasoned rice (and maybe beans!) with whatever toppings you want, spoon leftover liquid on top of it, and mix it all together into soup. You can do that. No one is stopping you. It's totally legal.

[alchemistc]

He's at the kitchen sink rinsing dishes when the lock mechanism clicks in his front door. Something zings up his spine, that familiar little tingle that means he's about to be showered with affection and attention.

He doesn't turn, mostly because he's bound and determined to act normal just this fucking once (he's too in his head about the way money had exchanged hands the last time Tommy had met them all at the bar and he'd leapt from the table to greet him). The door sways open, almost silent except for the creak right at the end that no amount of WD40 seems to fix.

Buck rinses another dish.

Keys in the dish on the side board, the soft thump of Tommy's duffle on the bottom stair, the snick of the lock latching again, and the gentle pattern of work boots across the floor. Buck's a little surprised that Tommy doesn't say anything - he's nowhere near the same level of talkative as Buck but he's rarely solidly quiet.

Arms curl around his middle, thick wide hands shifting over the belly Buck's stopped worrying so much about keeping trim, since that two-week span he'd pinched a nerve and been told in no uncertain terms to take it fucking easy or risk mobility issues for the rest of his life and he'd decided to call them cheat weeks. Tommy's nose slides along his back, his lips shift over the knob of Buck's spine, two-day beard scratches at the exposed skin of Buck's neck and Tommy sighs, long and deep and tired.

"Hey," Buck says, a still damp hand curling over the bulk of Tommy's forearm, and Tommy hums against the back of his head.

Buck waits a beat while Tommy sort of slumps his weight into Buck's back.

And it's this - this bone deep calm that shivers over both of them at the end of a long day - this knowledge that they can finally unwind in each other's presence. That just like Tommy is happy to let Buck unload after a rough shift, Tommy is willing to take that same comfort from Buck. Buck never has to chase to figure out what he can do to help Tommy. He never has to guess at what Tommy needs to feel supported. Tommy will take - and when he's not sure, or it feels too much, he'll ask. No mixed signals, no needs unmet, no over the top gestures to overcompensate. Just.

"Hi," Tommy says, and presses a kiss to the dimple of Buck's skull. "Smells good in here."

There's a roast keeping warm in the oven, some simple thing Buck had asked Bobby's help in perfecting because Tommy "Meat and Potatoes" Kinard had finally admitted he hadn't had a good roast since his mother passed and he missed them. And Buck hadn't known Tommy'd had a shitty shift until well after he'd thrown the roast in but the terse, one word responses to Buck's texts and the lack of typical post-shower selfie had been a pretty good indication.

"Go sit. I'll grab you some wine. Dinner should be - ten-ish minutes?*

Tommy's arms tighten. One big hand presses into his stomach, just enough to tip Buck back into the cradle of Tommy's hips, just enough to make them flush from head to toe. "Gimme a minute, Buckley," Tommy murmurs, and Buck feels that buzz under his skin, can't help the shit eating grin that curls his lips. Tommy's nose digs into his curls. "Come home just for hugs and you tell me to sit down," he scoffs, and Buck doesn't waste any more time pretending to do dishes - he gets the faucet off and sways back into Tommy to make himself just enough room to spin, arms already coming up even as Tommy hooks a chin over his shoulder and digs into the meat of it.

Tommy's back is tense at Buck's first pass, but by the time he's rubbed up and down another two times he's sort of melted bonelessly into Buck's front, a few shuddering sighs drawing from somewhere deep inside his chest to make a home in Buck's collar bone.

He wants to stick Tommy in his pocket and take care of him, but barring any shrink ray technology he'll settle for being a safe place for Tommy to land.

"Love you," Buck murmurs into the hair curling over Tommy's ear - because he can, because the word had been so terrifyingly easy to say the first time and has only gotten better from there.

Tommy huffs against his cheek. "Trying to pepper me with words to get me off you? Not gonna work. Might just stay here all night now.*

*We'd get uncomfortable standing so long." Tommy hums. "We wouldn't be able to eat."

"Can't have that."

"I'll let you play footsie with me for dinner."

"I'm close to accepting your terms. You got a kicker?"

"There's cannoli in the fridge for after."

Tommy whistles, impressed and only a little mocking. "I get five spontaneous handholds, too," he negotiates, like Buck doesn't blush deep as a tomato every time Tommy snags his hand just to hold it.

"Are they still spontaneous if -."

"Yes."

"Shake on it?"

Tommy flicks his tongue against his teeth. Seems to contemplate it for a moment, and then licks a line up Buck's neck instead. "That binding enough for you?"

Buck doesn't bother to hide the way his dick twitches against the seam of his zipper. Tommy chuckles.

"That a yes?"

Buck only eyes up Tommy's neck for soot before he follows Tommy's example.

[tarosunshine]

ʚ INTERRUPTED

genre fluff 𖹭 warning none ﹗ pairing boyfriend OT7 x fem reader

— You interrupt him with a kiss.

─── SHOTARO 𓂂 ׄ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Your boyfriend was talking about how he had added a new step to his choreography. His expressions were pure joy and passion for it. His hands were moving everywhere while he explained to you. That just melt your heart, and you ended up interrupting him with a kiss on the lips. His hands were suspended in the air, and he looked at you somewhat surprised. His lips turn into a smile again. “Gimme another one.” He laughed, approached your face, and kissed you.

─── EUNSEOK 𓂂 ׄ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

You and Eunseok were watching TV quietly, until suddenly he started talking about how the movie wasn't entertaining. You were very immersed in what was happening and you didn't want to miss it, but your boyfriend wouldn't stop complaining, so you couldn't think of anything else but to kiss his cheek. He turned his head in your direction, both eyebrows raised, his big eyes looking at you. “All right.” He understood what you meant and stayed silent for the rest of the movie. A tiny smile gracing his face and his head resting on your lap.

─── SUNGCHAN 𓂂 ׄ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

You two were in the kitchen, he helping you make cookies. Sungchan watched your movements carefully. Mentally writing down how to do it. He put the dough in the oven to cook and then looked at you with a smile. “I can’t wa–” You cut him off by placing a kiss on his jaw, but your original target was his cheek. “Good job, Sung.” He looked in your direction and couldn't help but feel proud of your compliment.

─── WONBIN 𓂂 ׄ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

You had just arrived, and the first thing you heard when you entered the apartment was the melody of the guitar that sounded throughout the place, as well as the calming voice of your boyfriend. Sitting on the floor with his back against the sofa.

You appeared in his field of vision, and he continued playing while he smiled, starting to sing that song called 'Replay' that he had been practicing for the last few days for a show. The lyrics and his look made you too nervous, so you kissed his lips halfway through the chorus, and you could almost see hearts in his eyes as you walked away. So he put the guitar aside and rushed to hug you.

─── SEUNGHAN 𓂂 ׄ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

A couple of minutes ago, you had gotten a little angry with your boyfriend for a stupid thing. He was resting his head on your shoulder, repeating your name over and over again so you would pay attention to him. So, to shut him up, you turned your head a little and kissed his cheek.

At the same time you looked away, Seunghan lifted his head and wanted you to look him in the eyes, but you flatly refused. “You're cute when you're angry.”

─── SOHEE 𓂂 ׄ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

For a while now, both of you were sitting on the floor assembling some Legos that you had found in a box. Sohee was extremely entertained putting the pieces together. His eyes were fixed on the figure that he was little by little building. “I think this p–” The moles on his face made the image cuter, so you couldn't help it and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. He barely looked up and smiled at you with that characteristic smile of his.

─── ANTON 𓂂 ׄ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Yeah, so now everybody's knows that Wonbin hyung can't cook an egg.” He was telling you how was his day and what he did. You two were on the couch of your apartment. You were resting your cheek on his chest and felt how his chest shook as he laughed. You rise your head, and after seeing his smile, you approach his face and kiss his cheek. He stopped talking and looked at you a little surprised. “And why was that?” He squeezed you against his body as he giggled.

[achromatophoric]

Enid: Yoko, you gotta help me! I told Willa I’d cook dinner, but I can’t cook!

Yoko: And you’re asking me? Enid, vampires don’t cook.

Enid: Puh-leaaaase!

Yoko: Alright, alright! Just gimme a sec to throw on some lingerie.

Enid: What? Why?

Yoko: How else am I gonna help you turn on the oven? Duh!

Enid:

Enid: Good thinking, Yoko. I’m gonna put on mine right now!

[moremaybank]

SOMETHING STUPID — s.h

pairing steve harrington x fem!reader

summary steve's overwhelmed by the love he feels for you and blurts out a question he can't take back. he's sure you'll think he's crazy, but do you?

warnings language, but it's basically just a whole lotta fluff and steve being the cute cutie he is

author's note did i pull inspo from haley’s dad’s speech in oth?? hell yes. also, i'm really happy with how this turned out, not gonna lie. please read if you have the chance, it'll make my day ♡︎

steve masterlist

When Steve steps through the door after work with an exhausted sigh, he’s pleasantly surprised. He’s spent his entire life coming home to an empty house, always filled with a blaring silence that acted as a daunting reminder of how lonely he felt deep down inside. There was never anyone around to ask him how his day was. What was going on in his life, or if he was happy — and not the phoney kind. 

He’s so used to weathering the storm on his own, day in and day out, that he’s completely forgotten someone will be there for him this time. The previously empty home is now occupied by you and your bright, loving energy. The quiet was replaced with your music bouncing off the walls. You’re active in the mostly untouched kitchen, baking to your heart’s content and constantly stuffing your Stevie’s face full of sweets. 

Steve finally feels as if he truly has a home, and not just a place where he stores his belongings and rests his head at night. 

He makes his way through the halls, finally reaching the entryway to the kitchen and leaning against the doorframe. The dimmed lights glow throughout the room, and the artfully scattered candles burn brightly in the darkened space. Further adding to the already homey atmosphere, the sweet aroma of fresh baked goods fills the air, thanks to the chocolate chip cookies you have baking in the oven. Even with all of this going on, though, Steve can only seem to focus on one thing. 

You. 

Your frilled socks glide against the kitchen floor as you jump and twirl around on the tiles. The sound of Say You Love Me by Fleetwood Mac quells the silence, your record player turned up the highest it can go (because, in your professional opinion, there was no other way to listen to music). You pull out your signature dance moves, screwing your eyes shut and kicking your legs in the air so many times that Steve fears you’re in an imaginary fight with someone — and losing. Terribly. He also takes notice of the spatula in your hand, acting as a stand-in microphone while you lip-sync along to the lyrics. 

You’re a goofball, through and through. Still, though, Steve is utterly smitten.

“Sweet moves, baby,” he says, loud enough to be heard over the music. 

Your eyes go wide as your body stills, completely mortified that Steve has caught you in your own little world. You turn the music down, swiping the stray hairs away from your slightly sticky forehead and clearing your throat. 

“Steve! H-hey. I was just, uh…cleaning the floors. You know, makin’ them all nice and shiny for you,” you laugh uneasily. It’s complete crap and you both know it, but you’re desperate. Frankly, you’ll say anything if it means distracting Steve from this whole performing your own world tour in the middle of the kitchen thing. 

Steve cocks a brow, tongue poking his cheek as he tries to hide the grin that threatens to come into view. “Hm,” he hums, “cleaning the floors, huh?”

“Yup.”

“…With your socks?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, still slightly breathless, “It’s a…great way to incorporate exercise into daily household chores.”

Steve tries to stop it, but he can’t help but let a laugh escape from his lips. He walks over to you, arms wide open and ready to encircle around you. “C’mere, you goof. Gimme some sugar.”

You break out into a grin, happily stepping into your boyfriend’s embrace and giving him a tight hug. You feel his hands smooth down your back before wrapping around your waist and holding you tighter to him. After a moment, you pull away, and your hands come up to his face so you can press your lips to his. He hums into the kiss contently, melting into the touch he’s been longing all day for. 

“Missed you so much,” Steve pouts, his bottom lip jutting out adorably. 

“I missed you too,” you reply, granting him another kiss. “How was your day?”

Before Steve can answer, Say You Love Me comes to a stop, and the soft sounds of Landslide begin to bleed into the silence. Choosing to let you enjoy your favourite song, Steve shrugs it off, “We can talk about that later, wanna dance with you.”

Steve extends his hand toward you, silently asking for you to join your hand in his. You smile, sliding your palm into his and letting him pull you to his chest. He keeps his other hand on the small of your back, and your free arm curls around his shoulder as the two of you begin to sway together in time with the music. Steve feels you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck and relax further into his hold, and he lets the voice of Stevie Nicks wrap around you both like a warm blanket as he holds you. 

The two of you sway back and forth, taking a peaceful moment to feel your hearts beat against one another. Steve never wants to let go. This is the closest and most intimate he’s ever felt with anyone, and that should scare him, he thinks. But it doesn’t, because being with you feels like heaven on earth. He can’t believe that he’s found someone who makes his heart soar the way you do. Who makes him smile so hard his cheeks hurt, and gives him a love so deep and true that it’s become a vital part of him. Just thinking of you makes his knees weak.

He’s completely enamoured by you.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask, breaking him free from his thoughts as you pull away from his grasp slightly. 

Steve looks down at you, remaining silent, and his gaze flashes over your features. The kind eyes he feels he’s always known. The tiny scar near your temple from where you’d gotten stitches as a child. The curve of your lips and how he swears he can feel them gliding over his own every single time he thinks about them. He then moved onto the oversized t-shirt your body is clad in — one you’d obviously stolen out of his closet, and the pair of boxers hanging from your hips (also swiped from his wardrobe). Your aforementioned frilly socks pulled your signature at-home look together, one that brought an incredible amount of comfort to Steve. It shows him that you consider his home to be your home too. That you’ve found a home in him, just as he has with you.

He can see himself doing this whole life thing with you forever, and he can’t explain it, but he suddenly feels compelled to speak up, and the words tumble from his lips before he can stop them. 

“Do you wanna get married?” 

Your head shoots up, and you peer up at him with a look of shock. “I’m sorry, w-what?”

Steve’s eyes threaten to bulge out of their sockets, and his heart rate skyrockets as the panic waves through him. “Oh god, I- I said that out loud,” he says, slowly letting go of you and running a hand through his long chestnut locks. “Wow. Uh— Okay.”

“Did— Did you just ask me to marry you?” You stammer, quiet as a mouse. You don’t move. Steve doesn’t think you can. 

It’s obvious that you think he’s gone certifiably insane. His hands raise in defence, and he manages to start blurting out everything he can in an attempt to rectify the situation. “Listen, baby, we can totally act like that never happened—”

“Steve—”

“—In fact, it didn’t. I have no idea what you’re talking about, babe. No freakin’ idea—”

Finally, your hand cups over his mouth to stop him from rambling any further. His last few words sound muffled before they eventually come to a stop once he realizes what’s happening. His fingers curl around your wrist, moving your hand from his lips before giving you a small, sheepish smile. His cheeks flush profusely, “Sorry.” 

Oh, the things Steve would do if it meant he could take back the last few minutes of his life and go back to before he opened his big mouth and ruined everything. It’s not that he doesn’t want to marry you. That’s definitely not the case. But the regret he’s currently feeling after watching your horrified reaction play out…it’s enough to make him want to jump into his pool and never come back up for air. 

But then…when your eyes seem to light up and a small smile curves your lips upward, he thinks there just might be some hope left for him. 

“You wanna marry me?” You questioned, your hands finding solace on his lower arms. “Why?”

His brows pull together in confusion? Why? He can see the doubt eating away at you by how small you’ve become in the past few seconds. Are you truly doubting how much you mean to him? How much you’ve spun his world on its axis and changed him forever? 

“I— What?” 

“Why would you want me to marry you?”

“Yeah, I got that, I just…are you serious?” You nod, giving him the slightest shrug. Your shyness is peaking through far too much for you to offer him any more of a reaction. 

A soft and gentle laugh slips past his lips and his body relaxes. His warm palm smoothes up your arm and finds its resting place at the base of your jaw. His thumb swipes over your skin, and his warmth bleeds through your flesh. All the love he holds in his heart for you floats up to his eyes, and his chocolate orbs soften. He’s never felt so tender and full of affection as he does now. 

“You have no idea how special you are to me, do you?” 

He says it with such conviction that you know the words are true to his heart. Still, the way they hit you is all too much, and you can’t help but deflect them with a tiny joke. Your eyes fall away from his. “I mean, I figured you liked me a little.” 

“Stop,” he chides, albeit gently. He guides your gaze back onto his. “I’m serious.” 

It’s your turn to apologize as your cheeks heat up. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry. Just, hear me out.” 

“Okay,” you murmur. 

His left hand mirrors the hold his right one has on your face. The ring you gifted him for your first anniversary is cold against your skin. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and he takes a breath before speaking. “You— You’re staggering, honey. You’ve given my heart a home. You’ve had it since the moment I met you, and you’ve kept it safe. Cherished it and nurtured it. You’ve given me everything I’ve ever wanted. I— I look into your eyes and it's like I can see the rest of my life inside ‘em.” 

Your heart melts, and you feel the tears start to pool in the brims of your eyes. “Steve,” you whisper. 

“I have no idea what’s going to happen in the future. Not a freakin’ clue, especially with all the supernatural shit that goes on in this town. But I do know that you’re supposed to be in it. You are my future, baby. I might not know a lot, but I do know this. You are the girl I’m going to spend my life loving. And I’m gonna give you everything if you’ll let me.”

His heartfelt words are almost enough to make you forget about your doubts. You want them to. But you can’t seem to quiet the worries circling inside your head. 

“Steve, I love you. You know I do. But, aren’t we too young? I don’t want to risk losing you. I don’t think I could take it if I did.” 

His hands slide down your neck and land on your shoulders. His warmth spreads through you again, and already, you feel better. It’s almost as if all he has to do is exist to wash your fears away. 

“I know. I know we’re young. But, so what if we are? To me, that just means I get to be with you even longer.” One hand abandons your shoulder, and he hooks his index finger under your chin. The pad of his thumb strokes over the tip of your chin. Eyes boring into your soul, he holds them captive. “You can drive at sixteen, drink at twenty-one, retire in your sixties. How old do you have to be to know that your love will last? ‘Cause I know my answer, down to the second.” 

You can’t seem to hide the smile that forces its way onto your lips. The sincerity in his gaze, the vulnerability he’s shown you since day one, it’s all too much. You can’t imagine ever walking away from him, can’t imagine what your life would be like if he wasn’t in it. Mornings you shared where he’d pout as soon as you mentioned getting out of bed. Picnics on warm summer days. Hearing him sing along to the radio in the car. You want those memories and every single one that would come to you in the future — your future with him. 

“Ask me again.” 

“Yeah?” He smiled. 

“Yeah,” you confirmed. But just as he’s about to do as you asked, half of the words leaving his mouth, you can’t contain the excitement. Your lips slam onto his as you pull him closer. You murmur a few yesses against his lips and feel them spread into a grin. Soon, his arms are wrapped around your waist and he’s lifting you up and into the air, spinning you around with joy. The kitchen is soon filled with giggles, and Steve is exclaiming your news loudly, even though you’re both alone.

“We’re getting married, sweetheart!”

STEVE TAG LIST (JOIN HERE): @oncasette @taintedxkisses @findapenny @bmo-bri @hemogloban @slytherhoes @shawnspoems @vigilanteshitposting @poppet05 @earth2starkey @aerangi @cantstoptherecs @sarah5462 @slut4drudy @cilliansangel @darleneslane @sya-skies @gillybear17 @lovelyxtom @rcbuttercup @redhead1180 @runningfrom2am @thejuleshypothesis @scarlettocean @subconsciouscollapse @violetmacher @iluvteyqmm @buckyisveryhot

[carmenberzattosgf]

Thinking about the scene in the Fishes ep when Tiff isn’t feeling good and wants a sprite but there isn’t any and Carmy just casually offers to make it?? Bless his mf soul.

Reader is really craving brownies or cookies or ice cream or something (prob bc of period/pregnancy/stress cravings). They’re rummaging through the fridge and pantry but can’t find any. Carmy walks in to see they’re looking for something and in true Italian fashion he puts his hand on their back, ushering them to bed saying “baby go lay down you don’t feel good, yeah? What’re ya looking for? I woulda got it for ya, c’mon.” Reader is like on the brink of tears “I wanted some ____ but we don’t have any” and Carmen’s like “go lay down sweetheart and I’ll make you some. We’ve got all the ingredients, just gimme like 20 minutes.” Then reader just starts bawling lmao.

-🧸

Oh gosh I think about this so often. Even my friend that doesn’t simp for Carmy but has watched the bear has brought up to me that he literally MADE sprite just bc tiff had a craving. Like if he’s doing that for his “cousin’s” wife can you imagine what he’d do for his partner????

Carmy does anything you ask while you’re pregnant. He just wants to serve you in every way possible. It’s his acts of service love language.

You’re in the kitchen desperately looking for something sweet. Anything sweet. Carmy walks in to see you balancing on your tip toes rummaging through the top of the pantry.

“Woah, woah, woah, what are you doing, baby?” His hand rests on your back to steady you. “You’re suppose to be resting, sweetheart. I would’ve gotten what you needed if you called me.”

“I just wanted something sweet—like chocolate or something. We don’t have anything, though.” You start to sniffle. The pregnancy hormones have not been kind to your emotions.

“Baby,” Carmy replies with a soft voice. His hands cup your face to wipe away the few tears that escaped from your eyes. “How ‘bout I make you some brownies? I’ve already got all the ingredients I need. I can get ‘em in the oven in twenty minutes. That sound good?”

“You’re always doing so much for me, Carm. I don’t wanna be a burden.”

“Hey, don’t talk like that, okay? You’re never a burden. You’re carrying my kid in there,” he says, cupping your bump. “I’d do anything for you, and I’m more than happy to do whatever you need me to do.” His words only encourage the waterworks currently falling down your cheeks.

“Thank you, Bear. I love you so much,” you whisper in between sniffles.

“I love you more. Now, let’s get you to bed, yeah? I’ll come join you once I get the brownies in the oven.”

[uncleeater]

Keeping Warm - LN4 🍋 (1/12)

Warnings: Smut under the cut, some cursing, lando being a perv, fem!pronouns, fem!anatomy

A/N: My first ever fic! i hope yall like it, gimme some feedback on what to improov upon in the comments pls :3

Word Count: 882

It was -5°C outside, cold covering everything it could, inconsiderate of broken heaters and electricity-dependent 20 year olds. So, you and Lando, pretty much. "Dammit, my phones almost dead." Lando softly whines, phone in hand as he walked out of the bedroom, "You wouldn't happen to have a spare power bank, would you?" The snow storm had blown out all the power for the city, leaving everything electronic screwed until the storm blew over. This included phones, chargers, microwaves, ovens, fridges, and the such.

You glance up from your book, watching your boyfriend flop down onto the bed in front of you. "No dice. My turn for a question: Have you found any extra blankets?"

He moves his head to the side, jokingly glaring at you. "Oh, because I'm your little slave that's only here to provide warmth. I forgot, sorry."

It's your turn to glare. You loved your boyfriend, but he was a bit dramatic at times. Times = always. "Slut is the preferred term, but That works too."

"....Wellllllll..." Lando looks at you with an evil grin, "What if your slut had a new way to keep you warm?"

"But my book!" You groan as it's snatched from your hands

"C'mon, baby," Lando coaxed, sliding off of the couch and sitting down in front of you, "not even for your poor, sad, lonely, desperate, hopeless boyfriend?"

"Wow, not dramatic at all" You retort, putting your computer to the side and looking down at him

"Cmon. the heaters broken, we don't have a fire place, and we've already used all the blankets. Name a better way to keep warm."

Lando grab your knees, spreading them apart and kissing up your thighs. His eyes flick up to yours, clouded with lust as he gets closer to your core.

"Lan." You hum softly

"Yeah?" He muses in return, peppering kisses up and down your thighs, teasingly switching to the other each time he gets close to your core. He knew what he was doing, and was planning on milking it for as long as possible.

"...If, and that's a strong if, I let you get what you want, then do you promise to let me do my work later?" You say quietly, looking down at the beautiful boy between your thighs

"Mhm...promise baby, I promise..." Lando's words are slurred slightly, his lips prioritizing kisses more than words at the moment

You shift on the couch slightly, hooking your thumbs under your waistband. Lando looks up at you, moving a hand from your thigh to grab onto your shorts. he slides his fingers around next to yours, tugging your shorts and panties down to your knees. His eyes roam over the newly exposed skin, hands unhooking your bottom layers from around your leg.

"You okay with this?" Lando checks with you, looking up at you

"Yes, I am. You?" You smile down at him

"More ready than I've ever been." He breathes, his hands moving your thighs apart. His lips ghost against your thighs, rushing to your core. He briefly hesitates before his tongue slowly licks up and down your cunt a few times. His lips wrap around your clit, rolling it in his mouth gently.

"Ah..." You gasp, one of your thighs lifting up in attempt to move your cunt closer to Lando. His hand reaches up and grabs it, using it to pull you against him. Your back was against the couch, legs thrown over Lando's shoulders. Your wet cunt was perfectly level with his face as he sat on the floor, right in front of the couch.

He detaches his lips from you, letting go of one of your thighs. He brings his hand up to his mouth, licking two fingers wet. He slides his fingers up and down your folds, spreading the spit-and-slick mixture around. Once he deems you wet enough, he slips two fingers into your heat.

"Oh, fuck!" You cry out, back arching at the new sensation. Lando grins, tongue going back to thrashing around your clit. As he makes out with your cunt, his free hand grips your thigh and pulls it against him to stop you from slipping away.

He loved you like this. He loved you always, but this was a special side of you that was just for him. Only he could make you feel this way and that was practically enough for him to cum on the spot. Or make you cum on the spot.

His index finger pulls out, giving just enough room for his tongue to replace it. His tongue undulates inside you as his middle finger pumps in and out. His eyes dreamily close as feels his tongue begin to be constricted. Realizing that you were about to cum, he gives a few last good sucks to your cunt.

With a final wave of pleasure, you sink into your orgasm. Heat from your core presses down and then explodes all over your body. You become numb to everything except how Lando drinks up your soul.

As the waves die down, you become aware of everything around you. Lando moves over to the side of you, crossing his arms underneath his head as it lays on the sofa cushion on your right. He grins, looking you up and down.

"Warm enough now?"

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

One (☝️) freebie plz. For whatever verse your heart desires (or a new one if you have an idea)

"You never have cash," Vanessa mused, watching you pay for a couple pairs of new pants and a new dress with now straightened out bills.

"Not usually," You hum, "Logan handed it to me this morning and told me to do something with it- I'm assuming that was his not-so-subtle way of telling me he can hear me struggling with my jeans in the morning."

She snorted, "Not like I want to give him credit, but he probably didn't notice. Or he's too distracted by your boobs. He probably just knows there's stuff you want to buy and haven't yet."

"Probably," you take the bag and your change, "I just don't even know where to start."

"Not telling your mother," she recommended, pulling you towards a stand that sold smoothies. "God I'm thirsty, my treat. Can't let you get scurvy or something."

"As long as it doesn't have bananas in it," you say, crinkling your nose. "Ugh."

"I told Wade NOT to bring the banana bread," she laughed, "I don't think he really believed that you were gonna puke."

"Well- he found out." You lean your head on her shoulder and look at the menu, "The peach one sounds good."

"And hopefully won't make you puke."

"Peaches are fine. As long as they aren't canned."

____________

Logan let himself into your apartment cautiously. Feeling better now that he was clean and in clean clothes. Construction was hot, dirty work, but it paid. And that was important.

There were some new baby things, carefully put away in the corner where you'd been putting them until you could organize it all and he could smell something beef based and savory cooking in your crockpot. But it was quiet.

It made him feel weird as he walked across the floor.

But then he peered over the sofa and smiled a little. You were snuggled into a blanket and asleep. Trigger eyed him warily and Logan pressed a finger to his lips as he walked around the sofa and knelt to kiss the side of your head. "Hey, Princess," he murmured, stroking your arm.

"Hm?"

"Tired today, huh?"

"Wasn't even trying to go to sleep. Just settled down to watch a show," you tell him, yawning. "Was waiting to hear back on some stuff."

He smiled a little and stroked your hair, "Must've needed the sleep, just didn't want to scare you poking around in the kitchen."

"It's beef stew. There's bread in the oven and I made brownies," you hum, stretching.

"No wonder you needed a nap," he chuckled.

"Brownies just sounded good. And it's cold out today. Figured you were tired of Wade's chicken experiments and would probably want something hot."

"Thanks, sweetheart," he said, feeling himself blush. You thought about him? He didn't think you poisoned it either. "Kid's got a sweet tooth, huh?"

"At least I know they like brownies. And not banana anything."

Logan snorted, "I owe them a pony on their 5th birthday for making you throw up on Wade when he shoved that bread in your face."

"I couldn't even stop it-"

"Better than it comin' out your nose. And I bet he won't just shove shit in your face again."

"There is that." You sit up slowly and rub your eyes, "If you gimme a second I'll make some plates and-"

"Just stay there," Logan said, "I'll get it. Do you want water or-"

"Ice tea, please."

"And a brownie."

"Or like 2. Two is good."

[gimme-a-man-after-midnight]

my royal roomie (part 2)

Fandom: Aquaman

Pairing: Orm Marius x Reader

part 1:

https://www.tumblr.com/gimme-a-man-after-midnight/693273500438429696/my-royal-roomie-pt-1?source=share

Summary: After a few days of living under your roof, Orm gets to know the little surface dweller he's been stuck with. With time, a stormy night, and a bottle of wine, the prince learns that he has more in common with you than he may think.

Word Count: 4,000+

Warnings: female reader, slow burn, light cursing, mentions of past emotional abuse, divorced parents!reader, dead parent, comic lore inaccuracies, floral inaccuracies??

Author's Note:

hi y'all! here's the full part 2 i've been working on for some time! thanks for the support on the last one and again, so sorry for the late continuation :/ i hope this story is to your liking! happy reading!

After the first one-on-one conversation you had in the living room, Orm didn't come out of the guest bedroom for days. You’d see flashes of platinum blonde out of the corner of your eye, just barely missing him by a few seconds whenever you’d be in the kitchen or outside of his door. You had made many offers through the red painted oak of his room to go grocery shopping together or take him on a tour of the town, but all of your efforts were met with a stern "No thank you." You had lost any hope you had of forming some kind of connection with the Atlantean for a while, cutting your losses by quietly resigning to a parallel existence. What you didn’t expect was the mutual understanding you two would come to on one fateful stormy Friday night, much like the one that brought him to your doorstep.

***

 Heavy traffic from the drive home, a full message inbox on your telephone, and the burnt attempt at roast chicken sitting on your oven rack had you nursing a glass bottle of wine by the living room window. Bad days were normal for anybody, but it didn’t make them easier to deal with on your own - the added stress of the stranger living in your space didn’t help either. You had been living a quiet life ever since you moved back to the sleepy town some years ago, taking up very little space and leaving minimal traces of yourself. Whether it was out of caution or cowardice, you weren’t sure yet. Either way, that silence had brought you comfort at a time where your thoughts were too loud, but now with another person occupying your space the quiet was becoming suffocating. 

Orm wasn’t by any means a bad roommate - he kept to himself, he didn’t make much noise, and he even managed to wash his dishes whenever he knew you weren’t in the kitchen - but he was a man.The last time you had lived with a man, the end of its course felt similar to how you two were living now, and maybe that’s why it was bothering you so much. Tip-toeing around the Atlantean made you feel uneasy in your own home, a situation you were all too familiar with. Typically at this time in the night you would be cooking up some plan to urge the man out of his guest room, but after the day you had, you didn’t have the heart to try. 

Once you took your final gulp of wine, wiping at the sides of your mouth with the back of your hand, you trudged away from the raging display outside of your window. The dishes could be a tomorrow problem, you thought to yourself as you were leaving your kitchen counter behind. You had only made it a few paces out of the living room before your body was overcome with chills, making you draw your blanket tighter around you. The draft through the house was unmistakable, confusing you thoroughly due to you always making sure the doors and windows were shut before bed. As you stepped deeper into the house, you realized the distinct breeze was coming from the direction of the guest bedroom. You had made it a point to allow Orm his space, but your brain was stirring with reasons for what he could possibly be doing in there  - most of them unsavory. 

With a deep breath and a tight fist holding your blanket, you gently rapped at the door. 

“Hey, Orm?”

No response. You knock again.

“I don’t mean to bother, but I’m feeling a bit of a breeze through the house and I can tell it’s coming from here, so I just want to see if everything is alri-”

The door suddenly opened a crack, revealing half of Orm’s face which was already more than you had seen in days. 

“If you don’t mean to bother, then don’t.”

The curt response, although expected, has you taken aback. Already seeing the Atlantean retreat from the spot again, you hold the door in its place in effort to keep his attention.

“Look, I know you wanna be alone, but I can’t help wondering why a cold ass breeze is coming from your room, so I just want to see what’s going on. Please, it’s freezing right now.” You do your best to keep control of your tone, not wanting to let on just how much the cold was getting to you - giving the prince another reason to look down on humans wasn’t on your agenda for the night.

 Almost as if he commanded the storm, the lightning cracked loudly outside as Orm swung his door open, revealing his full disheveled state to you. You jolted in place, practically leaping a step back in defense at the swift move.

“What’s going on is the stench of your burnt dinner was practically singeing my nostrils. I opened a window in hopes that I could find some relief, because clearly you surface dwellers have no trouble polluting not only the ocean, but your precious breathing air as well! I have little care for how cold your fragile body may get, so I suggest you retire to your room at once and leave me be.”  

There was a gap in the yelling match conversation, almost as if the blond was waiting for you to bite back at his harsh words, but the glazed look in your eyes and parted lips made it evident to the Atlantean that your mind was elsewhere. Orm followed your gaze, noticing that it was locked onto the maroon sweater he was adorning, looking at it with equal parts surprise and melancholy. His enhanced hearing picked up on a hitch in your breath and chattering of your teeth, confirming to him that you were clearly shaken.

After the long silence, you mousily spoke.

“I didn’t leave that sweater out for you.” 

 The arbitrary words silenced Orm, his expression turning to one of confusion as he looked down at the knit fabric on his chest.

“...where did you find it?” 

Your voice didn’t change in volume when you made your inquiry, but your tone was somber. The candid emotion made the Atlantean clear his throat awkwardly, unsure of how to handle such vulnerability from his host. You couldn’t even fully appreciate how much messier Orm looked in comparison to when he first arrived - looking like a 90s wet dream with his ungelled hair, clenched jaw, and broad shoulders peeking out of his loose fitting clothes. No, it was the clothes that were holding your attention hostage.

“It was deep in the wooden wardrobe of my room…the garb you set out for me wasn’t suitable for the storm,” Orm says, arms crossed in a defensive manner as he anticipates your response.

A part of you wanted to laugh at his retort, the corner of your lips quirking up for a millisecond before melting back into the numb expression you had prior. 

“Are you going to ask me to change? Because I don’t see why I should relent,” the blond goads, pulling a haughty expression that comes all too naturally.

Orm wasn’t sure himself why he wanted to urge a response from you - why he wanted to learn more about this sweater that was clearly jumbling up your thoughts enough to render you so silent. He tried to chalk it up to plain boredom, tried to reason with himself that all his time in self-isolation was making him yearn for more. Still, even with those excuses lined up to justify his actions, he couldn’t explain why seeing the down-turned expression on your lips felt so unnerving. This woman in front of him now was like a shell in comparison to the buoyant, eccentric character he had been previously introduced to - and for some bizarre reason he didn’t like it. 

Your thought process, on the other hand, was going in a completely different route. The glaringly red knit in your line of sight brought back too many memories that you had made efforts to bury. The cursed sweater in combination with the Atlantean prince’s snark makes your breath quicken and your mind wander to the whisper of a past life that still takes up space in your home. You couldn’t decipher if your shivering was coming from Orm’s open window or from your body trying to eject all of the feelings evoked from seeing that damn sweater.

“I-I…you…you shouldn’t-” you shakily exhale, your eyes surveying around your surroundings to try and focus on literally anything else. You backstep, hoping that physically running away from the situation will do you good, but your eyes lining up with the red-clad chest and the sound of the booming thunder makes you falter. Your hand clutches at your chest, the white knuckled grip on your blanket alerting your roommate.

The prince's body calls to action, making Orm take an instinctive step forward, reaching out as if to try and steady you. 

“What is happening with you? Why are you so high-strung? Do humans go into cardiac arrest so easily?” 

You couldn’t hear his stern questioning, your mind flitting to images of firm fists slammed against tables and nights spent alone, buried deep under your covers in the hopes of being swallowed by the sheets. It was like the space in your lungs was being taken up by a vice grip, and your ability to think - to form a simple thought that didn’t make your heart hurt - was completely ripped away from you. Even after four years, the memories of him still have so much power over you in a way that’s paralyzing.

“I-I just - I need - I need to breathe!”

With that final exclamation, you scurried away from the Atlantean, quickly making it back to your room before slamming the door shut behind you. Orm was left stunned outside of his door, his eyes trained in the direction of your room down the hall. 

What the hell just happened?

***

Arthur was done - so done.

The newly crowned Atlantean king had so much on his plate already, what with his upcoming engagement underway and him having an entire kingdom to look after. While he did appreciate his little brother feeling comfortable enough to call him at such an ungodly hour, the words the blond uttered made him want to pull his hair out. 

“I think I broke her - your human.”

“Bro, what?”

It was too fucking early for this. 

“Don’t call me - agh, nevermind - something’s wrong with your human and I’m not sure how to approach the situation. Is this really an environment you believe me to find enrichment from? My host is clearly on the brink of some sort of breakdown and I-”

“Wow, I never took you for someone that was so easily shaken, brother.”

Arthur’s poorly timed quip makes Orm stare back at the projection call with a blank face.

“First off, she’s not my human, she’s her own person. Second, what did you even do? She’s not one to just collapse on her own - although she is a serial overthinker and could definitely talk herself to an early grave...”

Orm, frustrated with his half-brother’s lack of support, rolls his eyes over the call.

“Okay, okay, but seriously. Something must’ve set her off or triggered her to react in a way. You sure you didn’t do anything?” 

“All I did was answer the door when she knocked. When she saw me at the entrance, she saw the sweater I was wearing and was overcome with emotion. That’s hardly my fault.”

Orm can see Arthur’s brows furrow in thought at the information, almost as if he’s assessing whether he’s been given the whole story or not.

“Well…where’d you get the sweater?”

“I hardly think that matters-”

“Just answer the question, bro-”

An exasperated grunt leaves Orm as he grips at the sheets beneath him in an attempt to contain himself. A part of him regretted bringing up the matter at all, communication with his half-brother being much too awkward to bear. 

“I got it from the wooden wardrobe inside of my chambers! It was much more practical to wear than the flimsy garb-”

“Shit,” Arthur cuts him off, the hologram shifting as the man rubs at his eyes. “The wooden wardrobe with vines on the sides?”

It was Orm’s turn to be taken aback, unsure of how he knew the detail from off the top of his head.

“Yes, that’s the one.”

A muffled sigh comes from Arthur’s end, the image changing again as the king shuffles out of bed quietly to not disturb a sleeping Mera.

“Listen, dude. It’s not my place to speak on her business like this, but all I can say is that the wardrobe - that room - holds a lot of memories that are painful for her. I know you didn’t mean to bring them up, but that wardrobe is off limits. Just try and apologize for now, but don’t pry.”

“But why should I-”

“Orm, seriously! I get it, you don’t like being there - that you’ve spent every day in your room ever since I dropped you off, but she’s been trying. She’s been doing everything she can to get you out of your shell and you’re not giving back anything. There has to be some give here, and that can start with you saying sorry.” 

Orm was surprised by the fact that Arthur knew of his daily whereabouts already, undoubtedly asking you for updates on him. However, what surprised him the most was that even though you have seemingly complained to his half brother, you never once suggested kicking him out - never demanded he leave your house and have Atlantis deal with him. You truly were a peculiar little thing. 

“...fine. But don’t expect me to continue such niceties with her.”

A belly laugh could be heard from over the call, surely out of amusement for the prince's unwavering coldness.

“Good. Now hang up, you disrupted my beauty sleep.”

With a scoff, Orm presses on the green gem of his wristlet and heads off to the direction of your room.

***

When Orm knocks on your door, he expects a big fuss - bouts of yelling, arguing, or cursing that’ll leave his highly sensitive ears ringing. What he doesn’t expect is everyone of his knocks being met with silence - deafening silence now that the storm has subsided. 

“Hello?”

The prince feels weirdly small waiting by your door for your answer, having no clue what he’ll be met with on the other side of him. (It also gives him some insight on how you must feel every time you knock on his door to chat, although he’d never admit to having similarities with you,)

“Are you ignoring me?” 

More silence. 

“Oh, enough of this childishness.”

With a deep breath in, Orm turns the knob of your door and lets himself into your room. He’s met with colorful tapestries embellishing the walls, big rugs covering the hardwood floor, and twinkling lights surrounding the bed frame. The scene that you set for yourself in your room makes Orm think about his home - the way that the colorful bioluminescence would sparkle throughout his kingdom. 

When the initial first impression of your room wears off, he notices there is no one in the bed. No squirming presence under the sheets or anyone sitting on top of the bed to give him a stern talking to. Where did you go?

The blond takes a tentative step inside, stepping over the fuzzy carpets to keep from disturbing their arrangement. When he walks past the bed frame and closer to the window, he sees a lump of a human wearing a large blanket over their shoulders and some type of bulky headgear that covers your ears and emits sound. You were completely enthralled by the scene outside of the window that you hardly notice Orm stepping up next to you. 

A sudden hand on your shoulder has you jolting upward with a yelp, your hand instinctively slapping away at the intruder before you turn to look at where they came from.

“Jesus fucking christ!”

Orm gets into his own defensive position as you scramble to press your back against the wall, looking at you as if you were a trembling animal.

“My god, woman!”

“What are you doing in here you scared me half to-”

“I knocked but there was no answer so I-”

“Oh, so you decided to just welcome yourself in?”

Orm purses his lips in frustration, not thrilled at being met with the uproar he had originally expected. You sigh to yourself in disbelief, willing yourself to be quiet since there would be no productive conversation if you two kept yelling at each other.

“Next time just take the hint that I’m busy if I don’t answer, okay? You can’t just barge in here when you want, it’s not cool…”

The Atlantean has some sense to feel a shred of shame when you speak, although your words are hardly convincing when your eyes don’t turn in his direction for even a second. You look so timid standing there in your corner with the blanket consuming you completely - not at all like the spitfire that called him an “asshole” and warned him not to “test her.” (He secretly felt some relief in your loud exchange mere moments ago, because it meant that version of you was still there.) 

“I…I apologize for intruding.” 

Your head whips up to finally meet the man’s piercing blues, your mouth left slightly agape at an actual apology leaving the arrogant Atlantean’s lips.

“Uh…it’s okay...although, try not to do it again.”

Another moment of awkward silence passes.

“So…why’d you come in here?”

You ask this question as you take a seat back on the floor, resuming your position of staring out of the window only this time without your headphones. You pat the spot next to you on the floor, urging Orm to sit next to you. With a small eye roll, the blond begrudgingly joins you on your multi-colored carpet, opting to rest his arms against his knees as means to shield himself from you.

“I came here to apologize, not just for barging in, but for what happened earlier. I shouldn’t have gone through the wardrobe without your permission even if I needed different clothes. I should’ve asked you instead of rifling through your belongings on my own accord.”  

His apology, although rehearsed, seems genuine enough for your shoulders to relax. Your eyes follow the droplets of rain slowly trickling down the glass of your window, racking your brain for the right thing to say. 

“It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong, I just…I haven’t revisited the memories that room brings in a long time. You putting on that sweater unearthed them today, and it got me bad. See, I was having a shit day already what with keeping up with the shop, and then an accident causing traffic on the way home, and the wine that I usually like being out of stock-” 

Your rambling gets cut off by a soft chuckle coming from the man next to you, a sound that seems so uncharacteristically happy for his usual demeanor. The corners of your mouth perk up in disbelief, the expression making Orm quickly look away from you. 

“Huh. So that’s what your laugh sounds like. It’s nice…”

Orm didn’t understand why he reacted in such a way, you weren’t saying anything particularly funny…

…It’s just the way your eyes became so animated as you spoke more, your hands gesturing stronger as you explained further - it was amusing to him. So different from the usual company he keeps, always firmly placed brows and crossed arms from the high council members he consulted. Even the Atlantean women, although much more pleasant company, were more regal in comparison to his surface dweller host.  However, what you did have in common with those women was your tenacity. Even with his cold attitude towards you, your kindness was unwavering - a few times a day, without fail, you’d knock on his door with the promise of food and semi-entertaining company. He’s starting to regret only agreeing to the food.

God, he must be going stir crazy.

“What is it about the sweater that made you react in such a way?”

This was when you noticed that Orm was no longer wearing the offending material, choosing to wear the simping cotton T shirt you had given him. It may have been nothing - a simple delusion on your part - but the weight on your chest felt lighter at the idea that the Atlantean took it off to bring you comfort. 

“It - uh,” you stuttered, “it belonged to my ex-boyfriend. All of the stuff in that wardrobe did, actually. We painted the vines on the side of it together…” 

Orm’s arms flexed tighter around his knees at your words. He didn’t know how to respond, feeling significantly awkward due to adorning your ex lover’s clothing, so he decided to just shut up and let you continue.

“When I was 14 my parents got divorced. My mom wanted so badly to make it work, but my dad didn’t like his life here in Amnesty Bay - a part of me felt like he also didn’t like his life with us in general. I mean, he never had a problem making his grievances known, so…” 

Now, this was something the blond was familiar with - uncomfortable family dynamics. The realities of his parents’ marriage were never shielded from him growing up - he often witnessed the brutality of his father whenever his mother, Atlanna, would make her opposing opinions known. He often felt conflicted about which side to take - the one of least resistance that prioritized the well-being of his people or the one that looked out for the well-being of everyone, Atlanteans and surface dwellers alike. Hearing you now, speak your piece on your own upbringing, comforted him in a way he didn’t expect.

“The divorce was messy. Lots of nights spent being pulled in every direction, but with no real place to find peace. After everything settled, my dad ended up moving to New York while my mom remained here. They agreed that for the school year I’d stay with my mom, so she’d have some help at the flower shop, but I’d visit him on major holidays…”

The blanket around you suddenly feels too thin, a chill running over you as you recount your tale. You take a sneaky glance over your shoulder to check if the blond was still listening, and you were surprised (and delighted) to find that his steadfast gaze was at the side of your face. 

“...At some point during my years at university, my mom stopped asking me to visit - demanded that I only live with my dad when I was out of school. You can imagine Arthur had his qualms about that…”

You chuckled to yourself at the memory of a young Arthur blowing up your home phone upon hearing the news. 

“It would only be for the same visiting time as before, so there wasn’t much fuss on my dad’s end, but my relationship with him had become so different after the divorce that it wasn’t ideal. It…It hurt to hear my mom reject me like that.” 

Orm’s mind flashes back to the rain soaked figure of his mother, presenting herself to be siding with his half-brother after his defeat. The sting of her counteraction still lingers in his chest.

“When I had started dating my ex during my third year, I found out the reason my mom was keeping me from home - she got sick…cancer. All of the overworking to pay the bills, lack of support, and the hereditary traits…she got really sick. I guess she didn’t want me to see her in so much pain…” 

Orm watches as you turn away to stubbornly wipe at your face, a sniffle coming from your direction. He hadn’t expected you to willingly speak on your background when he asked about the sweater, but a part of him felt guilty for being the cause of your current distress.

“When she died, I moved back here to look after the house and take over the shop…but my ex had moved in with me. Darren.” 

More tears fell from your cheeks at the same speed as the rain running down your window.

“Darren offered to help me with the business, help me get on my feet. A part of me knew that he was going to hate the life we were starting together based on talks we had about the future, but I ignored it all when my grief became the only thing I felt for a long time. He always wanted more - more than our little town, more than the flower shop…so when an opportunity presented itself to have a life on his own, he took it. Just like my dad did…” 

 Orm’s heart drops at the end of your retelling, knowing the feeling of rejection and abandonment all too well. His father would be rolling in his grave if he knew what feelings this little surface dweller was stirring in him. The gap between the Atlanteans and the humans was closing in his mind, and Orm wasn’t sure if he cared to stop it. All he wanted at this moment was to stop you from crying. 

“I’m sorry for putting on the sweater…and for being an ungracious guest these past few days. I’ve been a real dick.” 

You can’t help but guffaw at his choice of words, using your fist to mask the unsightly sound as a cough. 

“That’s not a very princely thing to say…” 

Orm’s head tilts back as he snickers, feeling slightly proud of himself for inciting a better mood in you.

Ah, that laugh again, you think as you admire how ethereal the man looks in his relaxed state. 

“Perhaps my brother is to blame for my much more…colorful vernacular.” 

“Perhaps,” you hum in agreement, “or you’re just not as much of a dick as I previously thought…sorry for coming on so strong that first day.” 

Orm’s blue eyes shine at you with something unfamiliar - different to the cold, distant stare you were first met with. You find yourself wishing to always be at the receiving end of his kind eyes. 

Orm clears his throat before uttering, “No need to be…I was the one that misjudged you before ever seeing you.” 

A silence falls over you two, a comforting one built between new comrades. Your (e/c) gaze meets his as the storm calms outside of your window, signaling the start of a new chapter for you and your royal roommate. 

[triedin2015]

Mike is sick so chicken noodle soup seemed like a good idea. And a Thai-inspired one sounded even better to me. 

I made several modifications of this recipe:

I didn’t have any curry paste (I know, I know! That’s the main thing! But I was also feeling too lazy to go to the grocery store, so I subbed a teaspoon of curry powder instead. Totally different flavor but still good.)

I used red, orange, and yellow bell peppers, since that’s what I had.

I used stir-fry rice noodles, which I cooked separately as the recipe suggested.

I used a block of tofu instead of chicken.

I used more ginger than was called for (probably 1.5 or 2 tablespoons), and more garlic.

I topped it with cilantro and extra lime juice; Mike added sriracha to his, Michaela added soy sauce (don’t ask me why).

I wish I’d bought peanuts to chop and put on top. But otherwise, I would say this came out really well. Michaela asked for seconds, which doesn’t often happen when I cook. (LAME.)

Today, when I warmed some soup up for Mike’s lunch, I added crispy jalapenos to it (like the French fried onions used in green bean casserole, but jalapenos) and that added a delicious crunch and extra spice.

[sgfgmichaelrry]

⁎⁺˳✧༚ enchanted

pairing: carmen ‘carmy’ berzatto x afab!reader

warnings: fluff, kissing, swearing, insinuated bath time, nothing graphic

word count: 1.8k words

an: i wrote this in the trenches (waiting to be seen at urgent care) so please excuse any typos 🙈 currently gnawing at the bars of my enclosure because i’ve been sick all week, but the delulu is as strong as ever!

Carmen’s head hung low in his hands, his elbows resting on the battered desk as the knot in his shoulders weighed against him. His mind itched to grab the pack of cigarettes in his pocket, but the exhaustion seeped through his veins too heavily to even bother. His ears were entranced by the rhythmic tick…tick…tick… of the clock above the office door, but the new-found quiet had been welcomed after a day of yelling and dishing. He moved his head to rest on his palm, and his tranquil eyes struggled to flutter open. With his other hand, he began to scribble nonsense for orders that he hoped he could translate tomorrow morning, but he knew his attempts were becoming futile when he wrote “10 pd skt stk,” meaning to write “10 pounds skirt steak.”

In the midst of his battle with sleep deprivation, Carmen hadn’t even noticed the string of texts you sent his way. It was nearing 12:30am, and you had just left the bar you worked at when you pulled your phone out and invited him to your apartment for the night.

Carmy :)

12:27

Hey bub! I just got off of work and I’m heading home

Sleepover? My bed’s cold without you :(

12:31

I have a bottle of your favorite wine if that convinces you ;)

12:38

Carmyyy

Are you still at The Bear?

Okay I’m calling you

Carmen’s head slipped off his palm and lulled him awake, and his bleary eyes fought against the bright light of his desk lamp. He heard the constant buzzing of his phone, and surmised that it had to have been you calling him. His decorated hands rubbed his eyes before he shuffled papers and folders around to find his cell, but to no avail. As he heard the buzz come to an end, he huffed out a breath, and he ceased his search. Instantly, however, his phone began to shake again, and a smile graced his face at the thought of his girl missing him that much. After pushing a few more unnecessary items off the desk, he found his found phone with a picture of you illuminating his screen. He swiped his thumb to answer the call, and he pushed his phone to his ear, desperate to hear your voice.

“Baby? You okay?” you asked once Carmen picked up. Delighted, his lips curled up into a smile.

“Hey princess, I’m alright. Just got caught up with papers and shit,” he rasped out, sleepiness laced in his voice. “I’m wrapping up here though. What’s up?”

“I just wanted to see if you wanted to come over tonight,” you hummed into the line. “We haven’t seen each other much this week, and I know for a fact you haven’t slept well.” You giggled softly as she uttered the truth.

Carmen cracked a chuckle at her words, knowing that she wasn’t wrong. “Yeah, sweetheart, no need to rub it in,” he muttered in a half-dazed state. “But yeah, gimme like,” he peered down at his watch, reading 12:40, “20 minutes and I’ll be there. Is that okay, honey?”

You opened the door of your apartment, closing it behind you before locking it as you cradled your phone between your ear and shoulder. “Yeah, absolutely,” you told him as you set your bag down. “I can pop some cookies in the oven in the meantime? Unless that’s out of your league, chef,” you teased him. He could hear the smirk in your tone as you joked about the cookies.

“Haha, very funny, baby. Gonna hit me with anything else?” he asked her.

“Not right now, no,” a smile cracked at her lips. “It’s not my fault you decided to date a comedian. ‘Can’t take the flame, don’t get in the kitchen,’ or whatever nonsense you guys say.”

“Alright, not too much,” he chuckled out, the sound vibrating deep in his chest. “I’ll see you in a few, alright sweetheart?”

She bit her lip in thought before closing out the call. “See you in a few. I love you, Carmy.”

“I love you more,” Carmen said before hanging up the call. He put his phone into his pocket before running a calloused hand through his curls. His drowsy eyes scanned the room briefly, wondering where to start, before picking up the mistrewn papers and folders off the office floor. He set them in a neat (ish) pile on the desk before standing up from the rickety chair. He stepped out of the office, taking one more peek of the kitchen and dining room to ensure they looked the same as they were when The Bear closed (They were, Carmen’s just paranoid). Not soon enough, Carmen punched his work card for the night and took the keys out from his pocket, turning them in the door and locking up for the night.

As Carmen made his way back to his place to get an overnight bag, you had occupied yourself with prepping for your boyfriend’s stay. You dressed up your apartment with candles, put your speaker to play smooth jazz, and set up your bathroom with elements for a well-deserved bath for both you and Carmen. You knew that things with the Bear had been picking up for him, and while you could not have been happier for him, you knew that it took a toll on his well-being, so you were thrilled that he agreed to spend the night and relax for a moment.

Within a few minutes, the oven chimed and you got to taking the cookies out the oven, the rich smell of cinnamon and vanilla filling the apartment. You put on some oven mitts and right as you slid the hot trays onto the counter, the doorbell rang, letting you know that Carmen had made it safely to your door. “Just a second!” You called out, taking the gloves off and letting your hair out of its updo. You sauntered over to the door, and you’re met with Carmy holding a bouquet in his hands, the arranged pinks and oranges capturing your attention. “Hey sweetheart, sorry for the late hour,” he uttered, motioning the arrangements towards you. “I brought these ‘cause they reminded me of you,” he admitted with a lovesick grin on his lips as you grabbed the bouquet.

You peered down at the flowers in your hands before looking up at him, staring into his soft eyes, evidence of exhaustion painting his features. “Carmy, you shouldn’t have,” a soft pout puckered at your lips, tears swelling in your waterline. “This is so sweet, thank you bub.” You smiled up at him before pulling him inside, saving him from the coolness of the night. You closed the door behind him as he pulled your frame towards him, one hand resting on the plush of your hip as he pressed a sweet peck on your lips. “Carmy, it’s 1am, where the hell did you get these from?” you giggled out, confused, though appreciative of his gift.

“I meant to stop by earlier during my lunch break to drop them off,” he began, rubbing the back of neck sheepishly, “but shit hit the fan, and I got caught at work.”

“Well, I love them either way. Thank you, bub,” you assured him with a smile, pressing a kiss on his cheek. “Let me take your bag to my room. Eat a cookie or two, please. I know you’ve barely eaten today, chef,” she playfully demanded. You grabbed the duffel from his hands before heading towards your bedroom, delicately leaving the bouquet on the kitchen table to set up later.

You dropped the duffel bag off at the foot of your shared bed before joining him in the kitchen, watching Carmen take down two cookies in three bites. “Good for supermarket cookies, huh?” you teased him, poking his bicep. He shook his head playfully before looking at you, adoration pooling in his eyes with a smile to match. “Good for supermarket cookie,” he repeated. You grabbed one of the cookies off the tray, still slightly warm, and took a bite, savoring the taste after a long night at work. You made yourself a mental note to buy more of these christmas tree cookies before the holidays ended.

After finishing your last bite, you made your way to the sink, grabbing a vase and filling it with water for your flowers. You grabbed the bouquet off the table and began to cut the ends at an angle, taking in the scent of the tulips Carmen brought you. As you were getting lost in a rhythm, Carmen came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your frame and resting his head on your shoulder. He pressed soft kisses down your neck, trailing down to your shoulder, effectively distracting you from your work. “You could be a florist, ya know. You’ve got gentle hands and a good eye for stuff like this,” his accent hummed out in your ear.

It was your turn to softly chuckle at his words, feeling the way his hands trailed down to hold the plush of your waist and how the feel of his fingertips on your skin felt blissful. “Oh, I’m sure, Carmy,” you quipped out, taking your lip between your teeth as you moved the flowers into the watered vase. Once you were done, you moved the arrangement from the sink to the kitchen table, setting it next to the candles you lit earlier.

Carmen trailed behind you out the kitchen, resting a gentle hand on the small of your back. You stepped back into the living room and sought solace in the warm arms of your lover, his strong arms holding you flush against his frame. The two of you rocked back and forth in a gentle rhythm to the soft beats playing, simply in awe of this sweet little life you’ve been able to create. You and Carmen created a perfect harmony out of the asyncopated clutter in both your lives, but you wouldn’t mind another thing on your plate as long as it meant coming back into Carmen’s arms every night.

One of his hands rested on the warmth of your waist while the other trailed up to hold your chin, bringing your lips to meet his in a domestic buzz, sharing sweet kisses in the candlelight. You broke apart and rested your forehead against his shoulder, swaying in the lovestruck air. “I set the bathroom up if you want to take a hot bath later. I got those salts you like to put in the water that help with your muscles. How does that sound?” You whispered out, gently playing with his curls. “God, you’re so good to me,” he playfully groaned out. You placed one last peck on his lips, cradling his cheek in your hands as a smirk adorned your features. “Sounds like a plan to me, then.”

[munsonhoneybaby]

Beginning Traditions | Eddie Munson X F!Reader

Summary: It’s your first Christmas in your new home with Eddie and the two of you are ready to explore the next steps you’ll take together as you form your own Christmas traditions.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: 18+ mdni, just some heavy making out honestly nothing bad in this one

A/N: takes place in december of ‘94. bit more of a blurb/drabble. this was originally gonna be some super sweet extensive thing with a lil breeding kink and some sex by the fireplace but uh- the month really got away from me. i’ll try and make it up to y’all with whatever i post next <3

The bluesy cadence of Elvis’s voice floated quietly through the main rooms of your home, the old holiday records your family had passed down having been dusted off in the name of the season. It was certainly a change of pace from the rock and metal cassettes you typically had playing. The golden twinkle of the Christmas lights worked hand in hand with the flickering fireplace to fill the room with a warm glow.

Four inches of snow blanketed the ground outside and, according to the weather report, the elements wouldn’t be letting up anytime soon. Inside, however, Eddie had turned up the heat and started the fire while you had made two mugs of hot chocolate ‘with all the fixins’. The Christmas tree was fully decorated, including multiple ornaments the two of you had made together. The only thing missing was the star on top, which was what led you to balance precariously at the top of your step stool, stretching to reach the top of the eight-foot tree.

Warm palms met your exposed skin as your boyfriend of eight years grasped your hips to steady you. “You gotta be more careful, pretty girl. Gonna gimme a heart attack.”

“Eds, babe, the ladder’s like two feet tall. If anything, I’m worried about takin’ the tree down with me.” You fidgeted with the fake branches, “Is the star sitting straight?”

“Looks perfect, honey.” He held a hand out to help you step down, tugging you a few steps back to take a look.

You hummed in agreement as he kissed your temple, your back pressing into his chest. “It’s pretty. You did a good job on the lights.”

He smiled at you before glancing out the window where the wind howled and the tree branches shook. “Thank God I put up the lights outside yesterday. Who knows when this storm’s gonna let up.”

Hip bumping his, you gave him a suppressed smirk. “Oh, I’m sure we’ll find ways to keep busy. I just hope we don’t lose power, even with the heat going I’m still freezing.”

“If we can find ways to keep busy, we can definitely find a way to keep warm. Don’t you worry, honey baby.”

A ding from the oven drew you to the kitchen as Eddie put away the step stool. Grabbing the bag he’d stowed away in the guest room, he met you in the kitchen where you were swapping out the freshly baked sugar cookies for unbaked cookie dough. “Hey, I’ve got somethin’ for us to do tonight.”

“When did you go to Family Video?” You frowned in confusion at the bag in his hands.

Ignoring your question, he asked, “Remember that one kids’ Christmas movie you liked that came out last year? The Tim Burton one?”

“The Nightmare Before Christmas?” The smile spreading on your face had him pulling the brand-new VHS from the bag. With a little squeal, you took it from him to inspect it. He’d even gotten one with a plastic hardcover instead of a paper one. Your arms wound around his neck with a tight squeeze, “Thank you, Eddie!”

Squeezing your waist right back, he chuckled. “‘Course, pretty girl. Why don’t you go turn the movie on and I’ll make us some popcorn, hm?”

Less than a year until he’d turn thirty, and even after so many years with you he still stood in the doorway to watch you bend over and put the VHS in– only then did your boyfriend attend to his task of making popcorn. The hot bag burned his fingers as he dumped the microwaved popcorn into a big bowl. He joined you on the couch after pressing play for you, the festive pattern of your matching pajama pants blending together as your legs curled against his.

Eddie eyed your content expression as you watched the movie with a small smile. It had been a philosophy of yours to try and maintain the spirit of the holiday season for as long as Eddie had known you. Even when he’d still lived with Wayne, you’d insist on coming over to help decorate the trailer. He still remembers asking you about it on your first Christmas together as a couple. My family doesn’t really get along, you’d explained with an expression of shame that made his chest hurt. Not a lot of people show up to celebrate, and there’s always a fight when they do. I guess I just wanna try and enjoy what I have around times like this, y’know? Bring people together. He looked over at the two stockings hanging from the mantle of the fireplace and imagined more hanging beside them. “So, are you gonna leave cookies and milk out for Santa this year?”

Meeting his eyes out of the corner of yours, you smiled and popped a piece of popcorn in your mouth. “I s’pose I could if Santa actually wants to sneak in the living room at midnight to put the presents under the tree.”

“Well, I think he’s going to. He’s gonna need the practice if he’s gonna have a little one or two to deliver presents to in the Christmases to come.” He tried to keep a lightheartedly teasing expression on his face, but part of him tried to gauge how you would react to that.

“Little ones, huh?”

“Doesn’t have to be by next Christmas,” He reassured with a little smile. “All this’s just makin’ me think about it.”

“Yeah?” Your hand soothed over his clothed chest before slipping beneath his shirt to do the same to his skin. “Eddie Munson’s really thinkin’ about kids?”

His face flushed, head tilting down as his eyes darted around. “I don’t know, it’s just…we’re in such a good place– and I wanna stay like this for a while longer, I do, ‘cause this is perfect, y’know? I just think we’re getting there, I guess. Like maybe it’s time to start talking about parenting stuff a little more and preparing together?”

Cupping his cheek, you met his gaze with a small smile. You couldn’t help but kiss him, fingers winding into the loose messy bun that was falling out at the base of his neck. “We’ll talk about it, Eds. I promise.” You could feel his smile against your lips as they molded to his again, his arms surrounding you to draw you into his lap. “Eddie, the movie,” You pouted half-heartedly into the kiss.

“We’ve got it on VHS now, babe. We can watch it anytime,” He argued as his mouth found its way to your neck. Head rolling back to give him more room, you pulled your borrowed scrunchie from his hair. His hands wandered from your hips over your waist and up your back, mapping out each curve as though he didn’t already have them all memorized.

Pulling back slightly, your thumb stroked over his jaw. “You’re gonna be such a good dad.”

“You really think so?” He asked, a little nervousness seeping into his tone.

“I know so, baby. You’re gonna be amazing.”

He pulled you down into another ravenous kiss, mumbling against your lips. “I love you.”

On Christmas that year, he got down on one knee and gave you a ring.

The next year, you bit your nail as you watched Eddie unwrap his final Christmas gift from you– the first of several positive pregnancy tests.

<3

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[yourfoodiedesires]

Cozy Autumn Wild Rice Soup | Gimme Some Oven

Follow To Explore The Foodie In You

[nitrowyverine]

Finally played the TOUCHSTARVED Demo! Still thinking about it over a week later.

(Above: Steam banner image for TOUCHSTARVED from Red Spring Studios)

I love it SO MUCH. and i have QUESTIONS. my extended thoughts below the cut [Demo spoilers included]

General thoughts:

this game is SO up my alley that it's insane. local goth gaming nerd is kicking their feet and giggling

the music? and sound design? It's honestly incredible, even beyond the infamous Every Time We Touch cover (Which is how I found this game). We all have to be giving more props to the music/sound work, it absolutely punches the experience up so many notches. When a soundtrack is released I'm immediately keeping it on hand for all my tabletop needs

absolutely enamored with the backstory mechanic. It adds so much individual depth to the character. you can feel attached to your MC without them being a complete blank slate. I absolutely love that different MC backstories have you pick up different details about the characters. (My favorite is The Hound immediately picking out who the leaders are amongst the group, in contrast to the other MC backgrounds)

I wanna eat the backgrounds. I wanna eat them whole. They're so detailed and colorful and have a great sense of depth. 100000/10

Specific character thoughts/theories:

(Images courtesy of the Touchstarved character Lore posts from the Red Spring Studio socials. I'll be linking them in each of the character's names)

Ais:

Thank you, Red Spring studios, for blessing the players with the ability to bite him if you're an ass to him the entire demo. You truly know what we want

Lore seems to indicate that Ais came over from the demon realm for some unknown reason, and was possibly some kind of demon king or leader? Fascinated to learn what happens there

Ngl the Seaspring looks like it would taste good. My favorite raspberry/rhubarb tea looks just like the Seaspring water. Gimme the group juice.

Question: If Ais gets infected with MC's madness....does that mean. the WHOLE groupmind gets infected? Humans and soulless alike? That's a city-destroying disaster waiting to happen

CONCLUSION: Most likely to adopt 6 dogs instead of picking up the groceries. Least likely to let you have the car aux cable.

Kuras:

I do believe Kuras is the actual best shot at a cure/treatment of all candidates. Assuming the curse is some level of demonic, an angel's touch is probably the best bet.

Let me be clear here though, I do think he might just go "Well you can just like. not have arms" and take them. That is a possibility

Most of the other characters I can get a rough idea of what they want and why. Kuras? I have NO idea what his goal is, which is very frightening.

Twitter bio image does say "Repentant Angel", and that his fatal flaw is "his sins can only be repaid through suffering". Possible linkage to Lovent's fall? Or another major disaster?

its okay sweaty we all get The Guilt (tm)

If Kuras somehow gets MC's maddness (I have a feeling it may not effect him? but if it did) that would just. end the world right there.

CONCLUSION: Most likely to be the one guy you might be able to bring home to your parents. Least likely to put on oven mitts to take a frozen pizza out of the oven.

Vere:

I love Vere for being the character I thought I could trust the least, turning into a character I actually trust allot. I trust him to be extremely dangerous. He probably wasn't lying when he said his heart is on his sleeve.

Also, big props for having him just kill you in one of the demo endings. What a guy, I love him, no notes

Wait what he's over 100 according to his birthday post. thats, allot? older? than I thought?. okay yeah the lore posts mention he's a possible deity figure. not comforting

Vere is very fae-logic coded. Like, the words he says can be true and false at the same time. Don't tell him your name, he will cannibalize you for fun, etc etc ya know fae stuff.

i will protect him always

CONCLUSION: Most likely to fuck your dad. Least likely to be your new stepdad.

Mihn:

Mihn is much dodgier than the rest, but I think that makes them more trustworthy. They're not as interested as playing games.

I nominate Mihn as a secondary protagonist, since Leander, Ais, and Kuras seem to be interested in them quite a bit. Even Vere has a rivalmance kinda thing going for Mihn. If MC didn't show up, that would be the dating sim right there

I'm excited by the lore post and the implications that Mihn is from Lovent (or has traveled there? and survived?) and potentially getting greater lore expansion about the world surrounding Eridia

I think it's interesting that their strength stat is relatively low compared to the others, yet they're one of the characters that actually uses their strength in the demo.

Also, I think we see the least of their "monstrous form" of everyone in the demo (minus their ability to dodge in and out of shadows). I'm thrilled to see what their monstrous form actually entails.

Mihn would survive bloodborne. That's it thats the entire thought

CONCLUSION: Most likely to do all the work in a group project. Least likely to be chill during Mario Party.

Leander:

OKAY ALL OF MY QUESTIONS ARE HERE. I AM DEEPLY AFRAID. Something is absolutely wrong but we have no current ability to pinpoint what it is.

I've seen theories Leander is dead. However, in Vere's route, he mentions that Leander smells like aftershave. While this could be part of an extra-elaborate ruse, hair doesn't grow after death (Minus the appearance of it happening due to natural decay processes) so he wouldn't need to shave. However, I am betting on him being involved in some sort of un-death cycle.

actually I can guarantee his story is all about cycles. Has anyone else mentioned how his belt is the triple goddess symbol.

you know. the symbol of maiden/mother/crone. birth/life/death. beginning/middle/end. like

Moving on, the vast majority of his smiles are forced (Mouth is smiling, but there's no eye movement/crinkle that would indicate it's genuine). That is enough of a red flag but honey I am so much more worried about my next point:

WHERE DOES HE GET HIS MONEY. He's constantly buying rounds of drinks for a packed bar. It's briefly mentioned his clothes are nice. He pays for anything MC needs. However, says Bloodhound rates are "Free". Where does he GET HIS MONEY for all of this. Twitter posts from Red Spring point out he doesn't accept bribes (at least overtly).

WAIT I'M REREADING THIS POST WHAT THE FUCK ARE THE SILENT CRYPTS.

Looking again at Leander's stat post. The Ouroboros in the background is. Not comforting. Also, "Forbidden Magic"? yeah I have a feeling we know why he's not in the Senobium

Theory, potentially Leander is currently being paid by the Senobium to maintain lowtown/Silent Crypts order? I think there's still a connection between them. Like the Senobuim can remain detached while having ties to whatever horrible things Leander is doing.

Okay, in the twitter relationship charts it says that Kuras has looked out for Leander "Since he was young". Kuras probably knows. SO much we don't.

When Mihn scolds Leander for not telling MC to be off the streets past dark. I think Leander intentionally "Forgot" to mention that. I think he wanted the MC to see how dangerous Eridia was so MC would stay closer to Leander for safety. I think it was a very intentional manipulation tactic.

(Furthermore, did he actually cast a spell of luck on MC when he gave them the lilies from his introduction magic trick? Then bet on the MC living through the day?)

I do think Leander's surprise at MC going out to the Seaspring was genuine, since his spit-take clashes so starkly with his cool-guy demeanor.

I also have a feeling that Leander has been past the veil/shroud. he's doing something fucky and the veil is prime fuckery territory.

(Are we...going to get a timeloop story????)

CONCLUSION: Most likely to dramatically use himself as a human bridge over a small puddle (as an excuse to get walked on). Least likely to remember to go to bed after playing Stardew Valley for 13 hours straight.

Touchstarved game things I'm concerned about:

(I feel like I wouldn't be doing my game designer duties if I didn't point out my concerns as well. To be fair, there aren't many.)

I hope the bad endings get fucked up, story-wise. Since it's a horror game, I know it might turn some people off to have things go super wrong, but I really hope they do. I want to see some endless pain vortexes, some real Juniji Ito-style suffering. But I would also understand if the devs want to softball some of the worst outcomes for the sake of widespread appeal.

We all have countless examples of kickstarter games looking strong out the gate, but then falling flat upon release. While I have high hopes for Touchstarved, I do know the reality and intense difficulty of kickstarter games. I'm really hoping the demo isn't the best the studio will have to offer.

OVERALL: I am rooting for the Touchstarved team/Red Spring Studio all the way! I'm thrilled to see where this game goes. I am poised on this purchase button and ready to buy when it releases.