#the only reason I bought instant noodles

[skullwyrm]

So you're telling me that the little packet of powder that comes with instant noodles was supposed to be added to the water and a magical little extra you get that you snort before eating the noodles?????????

[judebelle]

been thinking ab joao and reader hooking up behind his teammates backs'... like they've been "involved" for a while but sometimes the tension is too much and they have to sneak away iykwim ;)

sneaky - j.f. x reader

a/n : omfg anon ur gonna be the death of meeeeeee!! also i made this kinda long since i havent posted in a while, oops..

pairing : joao felix x fem!reader

word count : 2.3k

summary : joao and u prefer to keep your love life private, secret even, but the the flirty looks and knowing smirks from across the room are becoming unbearable.

cw : smut obv, lil bit of alejandro x reader, sneaky joao and reader, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it ppl), make outs, cursing, me not bothering to accent his name lol sorry

---

you were starting to regret going out to dinner with your friend alejandro and his teammates.

the only reason why being that one of his teammates had become more.

hooking up with joao felix on the down low has been fun, you won't lie. and while you enjoy sneaky quickies and flirty messages, there were times where you wish you could just tear off his clothes and fuck that smug smile right off his face.

you were currently sitting in a restaurant, a private room and table was booked for alejandro, his barcelona teammates, and their plus ones. you and alejandro had become inseparable ever since you met in spain a few years ago, and you had grown increasingly close to his teammates.

very close to a certain mr felix.

the first time you met joao, it wasn't anything magical, you just thought he was fit. alejandro had introduced you to him when he came on loan to barca recently, and you just couldn't get him out of your head.

it seems that the feelings were mutual, as that very same night he followed you on instagram. you, of course, played it cool and took your time following him back (you waited like 10 seconds).

from there, you two messaged often, especially after the team would hang out.

joaofelix79 : u got home safe?

ynsusername : ofc i did

ynsusername : alejandro wouldn't let anything happen to me

joaofelix79 : that's good.

you two started messaging more, sometimes even calling each other late in the night. you couldn't explain why, maybe he was just fun to talk to.

you would complain to him about work, and he would complain about a mistake he made in training.

eventually, you two started hanging out alone.

not anything crazy, of course.

joaofelix79 : hey

joaofelix79 : js noticed im about to drive by ur place

joaofelix79 : wanna get some ice cream? my treat

how could you refuse that?

it wasn't all that shocking to you when a surprise ice cream date turned out into a steamy make out session on a bench in a park in the middle of the night.

"we should stop, someone might see us.." you murmured against the portuguese boy's lips, you yourself making no effort to.

"ok, if that's what you want." he pulled away from you, his fluffy hair disheveled thanks to you.

"5 more minutes" you placed your lips on his again, feeling him smile against them.

from there, weekly hangouts became almost nightly. he would pick you up in his car, and you would drive anywhere. you just needed an excuse to make out. you even put your number in his phone.

eventually, joao grew tired of the make outs that led to nothing, and you did too.

12:03 am - joao : wyd

12:03 am - you : was ab to put some instant noodles in the microwave lol

12:04 am - joao : dont bother

12:04 am - joao : come eat at my place

12:05 am - joao : i ordered uber eats

of course, you went, and you two ate the chinese takeout he bought. you two sat and laughed together at his attempt at using chopsticks.

and then you found yourself perched on his kitchen counter, him in between your legs while he rammed into you mercilessly. you left red marks across his back and biceps.

"my god, you feel amazing, querida." joao's words were muffled as his head was nuzzled into your neck, his lips caressing your hot skin with every word he spoke.

"i'm so fucking close, joao.." you whined and whispered curses while your hands found themselves travelling from his arms to his hair, tugging on the soft brown locks.

"let go, y/n, i'm close too!" he removed his flushed face from your neck and connected your lips together again, breathing heavily into your mouth.

you came undone with a sharp whine, arching into him. his thrusts became sloppy as he let out a long groan against your lips, releasing into the condom.

that was the first time you two had fucked, and it definitely would not be the last.

his house was usually where you two would hook up because it was so big, and you didn't have to worry about anything when you were there.

you two fucked anywhere - on the bed, in the shower, on the couch, even in the laundry room.

you found that it didn't really matter where you were. if either of you were craving the other, it happened right then and there. it was fun. it kept you on your toes, kept things fresh and fun.

but it became a curse when you two were at a team dinner.

---

"si, i told him he could go fuck off if that was what he wanted. that guy needs to learn some manners, for fucks sake!"

the table erupted in laughs as pedro went on about some story that you weren't really paying attention to to be honest. you were sat right beside your good friend, alejandro, who was very intrigued in pedro's story and hadn't spoken to you more than twice this evening.

across from you was joao. he was wearing a black dress shirt that hugged his biceps perfectly along with black dress pants. of course, to make your life more difficult, the top two shirt buttons weren't done up.

one more open button and everyone would've seen the hickey you gave him the other-

"isn't that right, y/n?"

alejandro was speaking to you, and you were too busy staring at joao's biceps to hear him.

"hmm? sorry?"

"i said, it was you who i walked in on dancing silently in the darkness darkness of your room, right?" alejandro smirked at the sight of your cheeks going red, this memory being nothing short of embarrassing to you.

"yup, that- uh- that was me..!" you looked down in humiliation as the table giggled at alejandro's unexpected story about you. he loved embarrassing you, it was his thing. he found it fun because he thought of you like a little sister.

you looked up to see joao, laughing along with everyone else at the table, finding amusement in your misery. you shot him a playful glare.

"i'm only teasing, mi corazón." alejandro chuckled before ruffling your hair. "ale!" you whined, fixing your hair. his friends teased you. they all thought of you as their little sister, especially you being one of the younger ones.

the men continued on with their conversations as you continued looking at joao from your end of the table, only this time, he was looking at you too.

he was taking a slow sip of his water, eyeing you down.

joao wasn't the only one dressed all sexy tonight. you wore a short black satin strapless dress that hugged your figure perfectly. you thought of joao when you picked it out, you thought of him while putting it on, and you thought of him taking it off.

it seems that joao had the same thought. the way he looked at you from under his lashes gave you the impression that your outfit choice was a smart one.

you sent him a quick wink.

he smirked and dropped his eyes to your cleavage, widening them.

you rolled yours before continuing to eat your steak.

---

you couldn't take it anymore.

something the way he laughed with everyone at the table, his hair flowing when he turned his head. he had on a gold rolex and a gold chain, both glistening under the lighting over the table.

it was the way he carried himself with such confidence. he knew he was hot, and he knew you knew it too. that confidence definitely carried over into bed.

finally, you got up from the table, excusing yourself to "make a call".

shooting joao a quick look, he took the hint. his eyes followed you, watching you exit the restaurant and head towards the parking lot. after an agonizing 30 seconds or so, joao told everyone he forgot something in his car, and made a beeline to where he saw you last.

he saw you standing outside his car, waiting for him. he made his way towards you.

"so, who did you have to call?" he teased, his eyes waiting for your reaction. you scoffed and rolled your eyes, "very funny.".

you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you as you leaned against his car. he smiled down at you before looking over your figure.

"nice dress.."

"just take it off."

---

you two had squeezed into the back of his car, leaving nothing but surrounding street lights as your light source. you straddled his waist, rocking your hips while you smashed your lips against his. you two were breathing heavily, occasionally breaking the kiss to huff and puff before going back at it again.

joao's arms were wrapped tightly around your waist, his right hand occasionally sliding down to cup and smack your ass. his actions made you yelp into the kiss. your arms were everywhere. cupping his face, on his shoulders, in his hair, on his chest, on his abs.

it was like you two hadn't seen each other in years. like you were drowning and the only way to breathe was.. this.

your smooth rocking of the hips created a hard bulge in joao's pants which felt great on your throbbing clit. he groaned into the kiss, breaking it for you to breathe and to leave kisses down your neck.

"so, fucking, horny" he broke each word with a kiss. you moaned above him. "you can't even last one dinner party without my hands all over you?" you wanted him to shut up, so you grabbed his face in your hand and smashed your lips against his.

you started unbuttoning his shirt, but your hands were too shaky to do it quickly. "take this off, god damnit!" you groaned as he laughed and began unbuttoning it himself. you hiked your dress up and helped him with the last few buttons.

you moved his shirt partially off him, leaving it on his arms since you couldn't be bothered. you leaned down to kiss his chest while looking up at him. he was smiling down at you, hands rested behind his head.

he brought you back up to pull the top of your dress down just enough so that your tits would pop out. when they did, he licked his lips. now it was his turn to lean down and suck on them, making you tilt your head back and pant.

"joao, we dont have time for this-"

"shhh, patience princesa. don't worry." he went back to sucking.

"they're going to realize we're gone- joao!"

he couldn't bring himself to leave your tits alone, but when he did, you quickly reached down and undid his belt , not even bothering to pull it off.

"estás mesmo excitado, não é?" (you're really excited, aren't you?)

you nodded and bit your lip.

he unzipped his pants and pulled his hard cock out of his boxers. you raised yourself up on your knees and hovered over his dick. he held it up with one hand, the other resting on your hip.

"are you ready for me?" he teased.

"enough questions." you cut his teasing short as you took his cock in your hands yourself and sunk down on him.

joao hissed at the unexpected pleasure. he looked up at you, gasping for air above him before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"move for me, bebé."

you did as you were told, lifting your hips up until just the tip of him was left in you, before sinking back down on him, agonizingly slow.

he shuddered at the feeling.

you picked up the pace, causing the car to rock. your tits bounced in his face, causing him to twitch inside you.

"fuck, y/n, you're amazing-" you laugh breathlessly above him, your hands resting on his shoulders for stability while his gripped your hips tightly.

after some time, your thighs were burning, and you were getting tired. joao picked this up, taking control. his grip on your hips was put to some use as he moved your hips up and down for you. he lifted and dropped you so easily and made you move so much faster. you felt the air leave your lungs and arched your back to stick your tits in his face.

he grinned as he thrusted his hips up, meeting you in the middle. he tilted your body back, and started to hit the spot inside you that made you see white.

your pants and gasps turned into moans and whines as you felt the bundle of heat in your core.

"joao, i'm close" you warned, your nails digging into his shoudlers.

"i'm right there with you, baby, oh," he groaned and grunted as he watched him drill into you faster and faster. "meu deus, foda-se!" (my god, fuck!) he hissed with gritted teeth as he felt you clench around him.

his pace was too much for you to hold back. you let go with a gasp and moan, your hand slamming and sliding down the steamy car window, leaving a print.

joao was, indeed, right there with you. he pulled your body off of him and set you down on his thighs hastily before stroking his red, throbbing cock, cumming all over your stomach with a string of grunts and pants.

you both sat there in the hot and dark car in disbelief, covered in sweat and panting, after having the most mind blowing sex you've ever had. you leaned your forehead against his and smiled. he chuckled before teasing you once more.

"let's go. we don't want to miss dessert, do we?"

[rassicas]

I spent way too long on this but I tried to calculate the exchange rate of Splatoon G to JPY using a can of pringles, which sounds ridiculous and it probably is, so I'd like to fact check with someone smarter and has actually been to japan. So I ask. How much were pringles in Japan?

well. i dont remember. i only bought shitty knock off pringles for like 170 yen bc it was the only salt and vinegar chip i could find. unbelievable. the real thing cant be more than 500 yen in stores?? i see what youre trying to do here either way certainly not half the price of a nintendo switch game, unless these mr munchy flavors are like rare imports and video games are cheaper in the splatoon world. and then the tissue box is almost 500G which sounds okayish, albeit a lil expensive for a single tissue box if 1G=1JPY

1G=1JPY seems to work fine for the clothing items and that seems to be the intent. a high quality brand name jacket and vest for 10000 yen? sure. a simple new t shirt for 800 yen? that sounds right.

meanwhile hotlantis pricing is just fucked. most items feel like 3 or 4 times more expensive than it should be when converted to yen.

irl squid cushions ive seen between 2500-3500 yen, so 9980 divided by 4? sounds right

an instant noodle thing like this i see from anywhere between under 100 yen to 300 yen. but if we were to divide this by 4 then thats still 800 yen which is kind of crazy, but seems almost reasonable if its some limited time thing or some fancy import. lets go with that. the aforementioned 498G tissue box? divide it by 4, about 125 yen for a tissue box sounds realistic. maybe were getting somewhere.

i think harmony should be shot

[avis-writeshq]

pairing: early seasons!spencer reid x sunshine!fem!reader genre: fluff, pining, best friends to lovers warnings: reader struggles growing her nails out, reader gets her nails done. vietnamese women are the best at doing nails i swear (also if you get the reference you win another kiss) wc: 1.08k

Spencer thinks you deserve all the best things in life. There are various reasons for this but the one that sticks out to him the most is that fact that you have always been exceedingly kind to him. You have always listened to him when he talks and never once tried to belittle him for any of his interests. A part of him thinks that it’s because your ages are so similar. Another part of him thinks that you’re just pitying him. He truly hopes that isn’t the case. 

He makes you your coffee in the mornings. He knows how you take it– which milk you prefer, the amount of sugar. He has even gone as far as to buy your favourite instant coffee brand– the kind that are unreasonably expensive and have to be bought through a weirdly sketchy website despite its raving reviews. He remembers the way your eyes lit up as you held the familiar box excitedly and he can’t help but preen at the memory. 

“Thank you for coffee, Spence,” you chirp as you spy your unofficially assigned mug on your desk. You’re wet from the rain, the shoulders of your coat darkened from where your umbrella has dripped water onto it. “Hotch would’ve killed me if I had to spend another five minutes at the kitchen. It’s not my fault my train came fifteen minutes late.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, watching as you shake your hair away from your face before warming your hands with the mug. “I did tell him that there was a correlation between rainy weather and increased train delays which could have been a reason that you were late.”

You smile, clearly amused, asking, “how did he take it?”

“He pointed out that I’m still earlier than the rest of the team,” Spencer responds sheepishly, his cheeks growing pink. “I planned my train route for when the rain would be the least heavy.”

“I should follow in your footsteps,” you muse, sipping at your coffee and sighing in relief. “You always make this better than me.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he murmurs, his hand brushing against his scarf. “I was– um, I was wondering if you wanted to get lunch together later?”

You laugh softly and he relishes in the sound. “I only just got here and you’re already asking about lunch?”

He feels his cheeks glow hotter as he scrambles to explain himself. “Well– usually– uh, JJ usually asks you so I guess I wanted to ask before she did. And you have lunch with Garcia a lot so I thought I should ask when you get here and– sorry, is that wrong?”

“No, of course not,” you assure, beaming. “I’m touched that you think that I’m so popular that you need to book an appointment with me.”

“You are popular?” He says it like a question because a part of him is genuinely baffled that you don’t realise how well liked you are. He has found that you always manage to command the attention in the room and he has seen first hand the way people would be instantly drawn to you. He finds that he is no different. 

“I promise you that I am not as popular as you believe I am,” you say with another laugh. “I’m flattered though, truly. I’d love to have lunch with you.”

Spencer cannot stop smiling.

*** 

“You’re whipped.”

Spencer shoots JJ a look, his cheeks glowing hot with embarrassment. “I am not whipped.”

“You have been staring at her talking to Officer Deetmore for the past six minutes and twenty seven seconds,” she points out, her eyes narrowing. 

“They’re probably just making small talk.”

Emily shrugs from her desk, mixing her cup noodles around. “I don’t know, I’m surprised that she can hold a conversation with someone so intellectually disinclined.”

JJ snickers. “You’re just mad that he mislabeled a file and spread the profile.”

“Intellectually disinclined.”

“Guys,” Spencer pleads, inconspicuously gesturing to you saying your farewells and already heading in their direction.

You’re smiling although it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Your arms are folded over your chest, a classic sign of discomfort, and your hands are tucked into your armpits. “Hey. What’s going on?”

“Are you alright?” Spencer asks instead of answering, soft enough as not to call attention to your little group. “What’s wrong?”

“Hm? Oh. I broke a nail.” You show him briefly– your natural nail has split at the corner just where they’re gaining length. “I’m a little bummed. It caught on the zipper of my go-bag.”

“Do you want to get your nails done after the case?” He asks, brows furrowing. “I have a nail clipper and file in my bag.”

JJ can’t help but be amused at this new fact. “You have a nail care pack in your bag? What, do you just take it around with you everywhere?”

He shrugs, ignoring the slight jab, pulling out the little pack from his satchel and handing it to you. He is well aware that you take pride in what you look like, especially your nails. You’ve told him the reason before, that your school was so strict that they wouldn’t let anyone grow their nails long and if they did they would be cut short by the nurse. He thinks that it’s borderline abuse. 

“Manicures are expensive,” you murmur, your eyes downcast as you focus on clipping each of your nails to an equal length. “Are we even allowed to have our nails done?”

“Federal Enforcement Resources states under grooming guidelines that ‘Makeup (including fingernail polish and artificial nails) may be worn by employees but must be professional and must not interfere with the proper use and handling of equipment necessary for their assigned duties’,” Spencer provides helpfully. “I can pay for your nails, too, if price is the issue. The bakery I buy my banh mi from has a nail place next door. I’m sure I can get a discount.”

You laugh as you file down your nails into a smooth edge. “You want to pay for my nails?”

“Oh, um, yeah.” He nods, cheeks suddenly hot and he wipes his palms on his slacks. “If you’d let me.”

“Gosh, well, at least take me out to dinner first, Spence.” You say it with jest, your eyes lighting up with mirth.

He doesn’t seem to catch your joking tone, nodding in earnest. “Alright. After the case, how does Saturday sound? I can pick you up at 6?” 

Emily and JJ are all too pleased. 

reblogs are always appreciated !!

[aayakashii]

I always considered fiction my main way of escapism from my own troubles and the world's troubles. After yesterday, I feel like we all need a little bit of escapism and comfort, and I did the only thing I can offer, which is to write. I hope this can bring a little bit of comfort to anyone who's feeling depressed or scared. I hope my blog can be a little safe space if you need to escape. Please take care of yourselves and ily <3

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, actually a lot of comfort, Luca helps reader cope with their feelings

Frostheim always made you feel inadequate. Small. Wrong. Not enough. Your blood wasn't blue and your voice didn't have the sound of centuries of generational wealth, unlike all of its students. Thus, you had no place in speaking up, or expressing your discomfort. Much less saying no.

Which was why you found yourself stuffed inside itchy, uncomfortable clothes that had been bought with Kamurai money – another reason why you couldn't run away from that place – nursing a glass of champagne that you would, most probably, not drink.

Frostheim's balls were a whole different torture on its own.

It's not surprising that the rich would pride themselves in following obscure little etiquette rules that made them feel like they were better than everyone else. It was fine, really. They could choke on their diamonds and coins and silver cutlery for all you'd care.

It's the fact that you had to endure them that truly abhorred you. Endure the waltzes, and the fancy canapes, and the constant flood of drinks, and the stares and the whispers and the stares and the whispers.

The stares and the whispers.

You knew how much people loved to gossip in that godforsaken dorm, but you hoped your professional (and almost friendly) relationship with both the Captain and Vice-Captain would keep them at bay, at least in front of you.

But you forgot that rich people have no respect for those they deem less important than them.

So you were standing on your own, in the corner of the giant ballroom, as you counted how many people would pass by, stare you down and snicker.

Your record for the previous ball was a little over 20 people. This time, you were already on 23.

What a lovely setting.

All you wanted to do was run, go to the campus’ store and beg Benkei to give you a little discount on a bulk of instant noodles and cheap wine. You refused to eat their expensive food as much as you refused to get drunk in front of them.

That was your plan, until the loudspeakers, carefully placed in every corner of the giant room, began playing a gentle tune that reverberated deep inside your bones, and caused you pain you weren't quite expecting.

At least not at that moment.

Much to your dismay, your eyes began to sting as the first words of the oh-so familiar song reached your ears and your grip on the glass tightened instinctively.

It was such an old piece. A cheesy, melancholic little tune released back in your early teens. Back when your biggest worry were your grades and being noticed by your cute classmate.

You downed the champagne in one go, trying to force the lump on your throat to disappear. Breathing became a little bit harder as you felt your chest squeeze with painful nostalgia and you stumbled towards one of the many balconies of the vast building.

You knew they would most always be empty due to the harsh winter weather right outside its glass doors, but you didn't mind. You needed space. Air. And if you were going to ruin your makeup, you wanted to do it on your own.

The singer's voice was slightly muffled, but you could still hear her. The lyrics lamented a wasted love, but all you could think of were the memories associated with the song.

You remembered carrying your childhood dog in your arms as you danced to it in your old bedroom, thinking about fairytale romance and the bright future ahead of you.

You remembered crying to the sound of it after your first heartbreak and the taste of salt on your tongue while your parents drove you to the beach, the song playing softly in the car's speakers.

You remembered sleeping soundly in a friend's room during a sleepover, the song playing time and time again after you all forgot to turn off the computer and the old music player.

You remembered your past life, seeming so far away from you despite you still being so young.

White, glittery flakes barely fell despite the biting cold that enveloped Frostheim like a snow globe. You shivered constantly, but were focused on how strongly you were biting your bottom lip, trying to keep the tears at bay. Your hands gripped the balcony's railing tightly, as you tried to ground yourself.

You missed the sound of the door opening in your intense focus, only snapping out of your daze once you felt a warm coat being draped over your shoulders.

“You shouldn't be outside without a coat. You could catch a cold, or worse.”

Warm breath tickled your cheek and you turned around, only to face two bright violet orbs that widened as soon as you showed your tear-stricken face.

“What happened?” Luca placed his hands on your shoulder, squeezing them lightly, voice frantic. “Are you okay? Did someone say something to you? Did you get hurt?”

You sniffled, quickly shaking your head in order to stop the barrage of questions. You enveloped yourself with his coat a bit tighter, finally realizing how cold you felt. The scent of bergamot on his clothes managed to ground you better than your own nails ever could.

“No, I'm fine. Nothing happened.” You murmured, looking down, a bit ashamed that your breakdown just had a witness.

“Something must have happened. You're crying. If you're distressed, you can tell me.”

You stared at Luca's worried expression for a second before sighing. He walked to your side, leaning onto the balcony's railing like you were just a few moments before.

“It's… nothing important, really. It's just a song that was played there.” you murmured.

“A song?”

“Yeah, I… it's a song I used to listen to when I was younger. It made me remember, you know? Stuff. My life out of here.”

Luca's worried expression morphed into one of sympathy. His lips pursed as he nodded, understanding what you meant without needing other words.

“You must be missing a lot of people.” He said quietly as you settled yourself beside him, looking at the winter wonderland that were Frostheim's gardens.

“Haha, yeah…” You sighed, tired. “A lot of people I didn't get to say goodbye to, nor explain anything. People that probably miss me too. My pets as well. Friends. I had a lot out there. It wasn't much, but it was mine.”

Your voice became strained as your eyes watered once more. You cleared your throat, trying once again to push down that lump. You might have ruined your makeup, but you didn't want to cry even more in front of the boy – you didn't want to feel like you were victimizing yourself, even if deep down you knew you were anything but guilty of your situation.

Luca placed his hand on your head, his touch heavy and warm despite the ambient. His violet eyes looked at you with a swirl of empathy and pain.

“I understand you.” He said, swallowing hard. “It's jarring. The sudden changes, the fear of the unknown and what the future holds. I miss my family too.”

“Right… you came from another country.” You felt dumb for a moment. For venting your anguish onto someone that was living something so similar to you. And in Luca's case, he was all alone in a foreign place.

You suddenly felt small.

“Yes. And it's hard sometimes. Most times, actually.” He chewed on his bottom lip before giving you a small smile. “But I try to keep my mind set on something so I won't get lost in my emotions. Nor in my grief.”

“Your brother…”

He nodded.

“I set my mind into finding a way to get him back. And I won't back down from this until I've done all I can, until I have him back with our family. But also…” His eyes flickered towards yours, scanning your face.

“What?”

“I do have another goal to keep me afloat. Something else I fight for, so I won't give up despite how hard it all is.”

You tilt your head in curiosity. Luca places his gloved hand onto yours, the warmth seeping into your skin as he squeezes you tightly and his eyes burn with determination.

“I also want to find a way to cure you of your curse. To send you back to those people you love and miss. I want to help you get your future back.”

You couldn't help the way your eyes welled up once again, this time out of gratitude for the boy that stood right beside you.

You knew how Luca had to consciously choose to fight against the odds time and time again, despite how others didn't understand his drive and even deemed him weird or inconvenient. You knew how he worked so hard to one day achieve his goals and to have him so openly offer his hand to help you achieve yours warmed your heart.

“Luca…” You muttered, feeling the tears freely run down your cheeks.

“You won't be lost if we're like this.” He raised the hand that was intertwined with yours. You nodded, drying your eyes with the flimsy sleeve of your clothes.

“I'll help you find your brother too.” You announced, as determined as him, through a stuffy nose and dry mouth.

“Thank you.” He beamed at you, his smile blindingly bright. “And when you feel like this again, when you're lost in your own grief… I hope you know you can count on me. As much as I will count on you when I need your help. Okay?”

“Okay.” You nodded. “Let's just ask Tohma to delete that song from his playlist, please.” You added and Luca laughed in agreement.

He pulled you towards the glass doors, leading you back into the warmth of the ballroom.

Before he opened the doors, he looked at you one more time.

“Let's help each other stay afloat?” He asked, smiling gently.

You smiled back.

“Let's. Thank you, Luca.”

“It's what I'm here for.”

He opened the doors and ushered you inside, shielding you from the cold outside.

[maleyanderecafe]

Channel 453 -Shadows of the Game- (Visual Novel)

Created by: Bulhwa

Genre: Horror/Romance

The unfortunate thing about this one is that while the artwork is gorgeous, the UI looks great and it's a time loop story, it starts to stop making sense after a while. I'm not sure if it's because of the translation or story itself, but either way it unfortunately makes the visual novel pretty confusing and in a way that's not very fun.

The story starts out with the main character moving into a new apartment. She seems so excited, but is tired from the move. After getting into their apartment, they find a note on their TV mentioning channel 453, something that they are curious about. They can have the choice to go to this channel out of curiosity, or watch their normal channels. Upon going to this channel, the MC sees a young man there who introduces himself as Liotte. He starts talking to the MC, which makes them a bit unsettled considering it's not every day that you talk to someone inside of the TV. After some chatting, the MC goes to make herself some instant ramen but ends up cutting herself while opening one of the packages. Liotte notices this and gets really freaked out and possessive, stating that this should have never happened. This leads to them causing a time loop (?) and them going back in time a couple of times. Eventually, the MC shuts off the TV, leading to a strange man named Ivan to appear in her house. Ivan talks about how he gives wishes and that Liotte made a wish that caused him to be like this. He ends up teleporting the MC into the backstage where we learn bits of his backstory, like how he knew the MC from when she was younger. It's implied that he made a deal with the devil (which I think in this case is Ivan) for him to be together, with the curse of them essentially being stuck in a timeloop.

The good ending has it so that the two of them get together, while the other two endings have him sad that he isn't with the MC, or at least she doesn't reciprocate his feelings as much.

The artwork and UI in this one are genuinely very pretty, with a lot of work done in on making it look nice. The video effects for when Liotte freaks out and asks the player if he's the worst are nice, as well as the video that plays when they're placed into a timeloop. UI, again, also extremely pretty and well placed.

That said, after the entire incident with the cutting her hand on a noodle packet, everything becomes very confusing very fast. Loitte becomes suddenly very hostile towards the MC, wanting to cage her and trying to get her to rely on him, while also talking about how they met each other in the past? I don't really understand what is going on after this point, and I'm not sure if it's because of a translation thing since the original game was in Korean or if it more or less plays out like it was in the original and the game is pretty accurate to it's English counterpart, but either way, I genuinely have no idea what happened after that point, and lot of it was guess work. Ivan appears in our house for no reason, and seems to know about Loitte's history. From what I can tell he seems to be the god/devil that made the initial deal with Loitte in the first place, though he seems more like a trickster if anything. I'm not sure what even caused the good ending considering that I think the only major difference is that we talked to Loitte a little bit more about his hobbies. Normally I think timeloop stories are pretty good since I like the way that people use them to sort of show the deterioration of a yandere's psyche, but this one... was just confusing. I can't even tell if the MC remembers what happens during the time loops because in some instances it seems like she does while in others she doesn't, with no reason or rhyme. I also don't know if it affects anything, since it doesn't seem like time is really affected, given that it doesn't seem like the MC goes back to before she bought the apartment or even before she made herself instant noodles.

It's hard to say because I really don't understand what's happening and I don't know what the reason is behind that, whether it's a translation thing or if this is actually what it's giving us. Either way, as of now, I don't really know how to feel about it because again, I don't really understand. It certainly has good presentation as stated from before, and Loitte's design is pretty cute, but story wise, nothing really makes any sense. Hopefully, this can be changed in the future, but for now, I think the presentation is really what is holding this game up for me.

[sgiandubh]

For a very quick, but effective fix: Pasha's improv rustic pizza

Meet Pasha IV, Shipper Mom's British Shorthair spirit animal and soulmate:

This is the most lazy & gourmet being ever to grace this planet, so it's only normal to dedicate the following quick fix recipe to him (pets are never 'it' in this house, nor should they ever be - damn grammar!).

This is a freestyle recipe I invented for myself back in my first days of desperate cooking apprenticeship, in Paris. Leaving home at 18, with virtually zero food skills, I quickly realized it was not reasonable to eat every single day in town. My path to cooking began with books, fantasizing scrumptious recipes and a lengthy, persevering trial and error process. I always was a difficult, horrendously fastidious client, but now I was slowly turning into a monster, keeping my eyes peeled on cooking gestures and mannerisms, wherever I could find them.

This pizza experiment was an instant success and the moment the coin dropped: I actually could do things to and with food, that would be something more than survival. The rest is reading ahead, combining ahead and never being shy to ask around for that recipe. From taxi drivers to friends, they were all more than happy to generously indulge, all around the world.

You need whatever you have loitering around in your fridge and you aren't really sure how to recycle. I even happily, barbarically put mac & cheese or cold satay noodles (want my recipe? I poached it in Phnom Penh) on it. Tuna/corn/red onion is a sure combo and so are deli bits and bobs/corn/Vidalia onion. Cold roast beef, too. Diced ham, onion and even roasted potatoes leftovers, plus heavy cream - only in winter. Sardines (tinned), lemon/orange zest, ground pepper and perhaps a dash of coriander leaves (add herbs at the end, otherwise, they will go bitter). Fresh goat cheese, pistachio, figs (even fig jam will do) and balsamic vinegar. Sky is the limit. I also never use Mozzarella, and yes, please curse me - I always use Irish red cheddar, because this is what you are likely to find in my fridge until the end of time. And whenever you can or see fit, break an egg on top of it three to five minutes before you take it off the oven: it's called Pizza Radio and it is a local Corsican secret.

Preheat the oven at the usual temperature: 350 Fahrenheit/180 Celsius.

Unroll a store-bought pizza pastry sheet in a parchment paper lined 13x8 baking pan. Let rest while you prepare the easiest sauce in the world.

Mix Heinz ketchup, Sriracha and sweet Thai chili sauce. Should yield about a cup - proportions vary according to your own resistance to heat: one of the reasons you should taste your own concoctions and do it often. If you went overboard with the sacred Sriracha, immediately add honey or some brown sugar, until rectified. Add two Tablespoons (30 ml) of EVOO and mix well. Spread on the pizza pastry sheet with your usual brush.

I always try to use this one, but any brand will do:

4. Add the grated Cheddar, with spiral, clockwise movements (this is something I stole from a pizzaiolo in Florence, it is the only way to make sure all the surface gets evenly covered).

5. Thinly cut the onions (you know: halve them, then go ahead exactly like you would do for onion rings or quarter them and go ahead for more caramelized crunchiness, curse TPTB and cry your arse out). Add them on top. I had red onion - it is stellar with cold cuts.

6. Add whatever it is you want to garnish the pizza with. In my pic, we had thinly cut (recycled) debreceni kolbász (Debreziner) sausages and diced Prague/cooked ham (you need something more neutral to counterbalance all that heat).

7. Finish off with 150 grams/5 ounces (drained) canned sweet corn. No particular brand, but make sure it's dry before you add it on top of this.

8. Bake in a very hot oven for about 20 to 25 minutes. Take out, let breathe (5 minutes tops), cut and devour. I guarantee no leftovers.

You're welcome! We'll get to more serious things this evening, though.

[comingfromastatechampionasshole]

Making Yorkshire Parkin: When You Want to Remember, Remember, the Fifth of November (but you forgot)

I bought Lyle’s Golden Syrup on a whim in our international grocers months ago, nestled between the Marmite and jarred clotted cream. I didn’t know what golden syrup tasted like, I had no use for it, and no recipe I had ever read included it. Naturally, I bought it immediately. Walking by the racks of Japanese candy and multiple incidences of ramen noodles, I asked myself, “Is there a particular reason I’m buying this, or am I just pissed they don’t have Walker’s and don’t want to walk away empty-handed?” 

Months later, I end up watching a video on parkin. Uses golden syrup. In this moment, the stars align. 

How did I stumble on this? Well, I’m interested in historical food, and even more so historical baking, and November was coming up. Try the Guy Fawkes day cake, it proclaimed to me, and as I watched it, and it was described to me as an English gingerbread-style cake, i thought, “There’s nothing about that idea I don’t like! I can make parkin, it can’t be that hard. Not like i’m going to be able to buy it here to try it.” 

And hard is not the word for it. Let’s go on a journey. 

So the first thing is, that Yorkshire parkin isn’t the only parkin in town and so, as I glanced at recipes, i discovered that there were multiple theories of the business, and many of these theories involved insulting each others’ grandmothers. Lancashire parkin uses mainly golden syrup, resulting in a sweeter and softer-flavored cake, and I guess that’s why the only things a civilized human being knows about Lancashire is that it’s in the North of England, and it features in the Merrily Song from the Wind and the Willows. No, the more I read, the more I realized I wanted Yorkshire parkin, a dark, aggressive form of the cake that makes heavy use of black treacle and threatens to kick your teeth in. It’s no wonder that Yorkshire gets all the great wonders of the North, like Wuthering Heights, The Secret Garden, and that one pizza place I really liked. 

It turns out that Yorkshire parkin uses a very small amont of golden syrup, and so you may be saying to yourself at this point, “Doc are you unnecessarily complicating your life to say you literally opened this stupid plastic bottle of sugar syrup?” to which I say, ‘No one asked you, okay?” 

Black treacle is the first thing on this list, and this was actually the easy part. One of the ‘fun’ things about reading recipes from English to English (and sometimes even to English!) is that you have to make substitutions, and people’s attitude toward substitutions for ingredients run the gamut from questionable to hysteria. The good news is that this unites us all, and I am sure there will be several fine Brits yelling at me that unsulfured molasses is nothing like black treacle, in the same way that many Americans lost their mind at the mere suggestion that a digestive might be more or less equivalent to a graham cracker. I welcome your hatemail, Hail Satan , Lord of Spiders, just use unsulfured molasses and you’ll be fine. 

But then we have the problem of “medium oatmeal.” The Brits are running on a completely different system than we are with our paltry three or so styles of oatmeal: Rolled, steel cut (often called Irish oats), and instant. There are some outliers, but they are mostly the exclusive purview of places where one might buy free-range ostrich farts and consensually squeezed oranges. Meanwhile, on a rainy rock in the North, we have seventeen separate grades of oatmeal, some of which are only found on one specific moor where young maidens cry over it, keening into the wind (An expensive delicacy not unlike kopi luwak) Try as I might, I found it near impossible to get medium oatmeal, and so I took the most reasonable out possible: Buying steel cut oats and frantically googling photos of medium oatmeal until I had processed it down to the rough appearance. 

This is medium oatmeal. Probably. 

The assembly of it is stunningly old-fashioned, and I’m not making a joke when I say it seems basically unchanged from the 1700s: You mix the sugar and butter ingredients together in a sauce pan until the sugar melts, and then throw it into the dry mix, putting it together and then throwing in an egg as some desperate attempt to give so loft to what is going to be a doorstop or perhaps the blunt object that was originally used to kill Guy Fawkes, as well as a splash of milk, though what it hopes to contribute to the action I can’t possibly imagine. 

Having read over all this at 9:30 pm on the 5th of November, I ready myrself to assemble the parkin so I can leave it out for King James or whatever. Then I read the cook time on the cake: Seventy to Ninety Minutes. 

“Fuck this shit, I’m American,” I said, cracking open a beer and heading upstairs with my sixteen guns while eagles cried and sang “God Bless The USA” overhead. 

REMEMBER, REMEMBER, THE SIXTH OF NOVEMBER, WHEN ALL THESE INGREDIENTS ARE STILL SITTING IN MY KITCHEN. 

So, I have followed the recipe. The cake is in the oven. What will it become? Stay tuned!

[rom-e-o]

So a very, um... concerning thought occurred to me.

We know Scrooge hoarded his money and didn't even make himself comfortable with it. Do you think that means, at least for modern!Scrooge... he only ever bought the rough, one-ply, really bad toilet paper?

That, very unfortunately, checks out.

I can see a V05 2-in-1 shampoo\conditioner in the shower too. And let’s not even talk about the unsettling number of instant coffee canisters and ramen noodle packs.

Another reason for the girls to be like “oh. Oh no. No longer.”

[yeoroot]

9 people you'd like to know better

thank you for the tag @broh3m3 !!

Last Song: it’s either Her (according to my YouTube history) or Kororon (according to my memory and the fact that I have a browser window open for this song to play on repeat)

Favourite Colour: Various shades of blue and on occasion, green. I’m also starting to really like red and specific shades of pink cause of the instant gratification those colors give when I use them

Currently watching: Ruze/Jurard/Bettel from Holostars. I watch them on and off, this week I was just in a mood (I needed those hours of content while playing Getting Over It-)

Sweet/Savoury/Spicy: Savoury, but I also like spicy stuff!! (I keep eating chicken and every chance I get I eat those x2 spicy Buldak noodles; I keep giving myself dietary issues that my friends know me for them now)

Relationship status: Single, but I also thrive on friendships like a dog so it doesn’t really matter hHAHDAJNDAK (im aroace spec, I think. I forgot what labels to use ever since I just settled with the term queer-)

Current Obsession: Twisted Wonderland. I almost bought a bunch of perfume samples when I found out the Valentine's Day limited scents were difficult to ship overseas (the only thing stopping me is the time required to research into perfumes that resemble Jamil and Kalim). A few days ago I looked into how to make those heart magnet charms for JamiKali and several minutes ago I typed up a few notes and came up with another drawing idea. I do not think there is a way out. Everything I see is just another piece of inspiration...(I saw someone on twitter making cd charms and the light music club came into my mind 1 2 ). I also have a bunch of fanmerch and JamiKali/KaliJami doujinshis that are up on my keyboard's music sheet stand like they're family photos but this part I consider normal.

Last thing I googled: “Restrain synonym” (Kalim related but I swear its for a sfw and sweet reason)

Tagging for fun except I only really know 2 other people right now- @soup-du-silence @ohiko-artsworld

[the-official-account]

lush's instant ramen adventure #1: jongga kimchi ramen

So I bought a fuck ton of ramen. I have my reasons. And I'm gonna talk about what I think about them.

I tend to like the broadest, to my knowledge, staples of Asian flavors (I'm trying to say this like someone might say they enjoy "some western food" referring to cheese) I like...soy sauce. And such. I cook with it often. And I don't think I'm getting anything particularly authentic in instant ramen. I only mention this to say I'm trying not to be orientalist about this? But I also am not well read on the topic at all. So do call me out if necessary. Onto the ramen

One should know I am notoriously bad at food photos! But here is the ramen

Out of 9 flavors I purchased I chose this one so I don't have to wash another bowl later! I've had kimchi (Love it) and kimchi flavored ramens (very spicy. Cried) before, and so this didn't seem altogether too unfamiliar cause I'm not in the mood to actually adventure that much today. There's one other bowl ramen in my stash. I only have one of these, so if I fuck it up Then Oops, but I am preparing it as instructed except to fry two eggs to go with it, standard ramen practice for me. And giving it a good mix at the recommended 3 minutes to sit a bit longer as I finish my eggs

Fried to mediocrity.

I was expecting the kimchi in the package to be dried because I'm illiterate and didn't really read the top of the package, and because the instructions said one might eat "REAL kimchi" (Caps their own) as a side dish. It wasn't, though.

And here's how it looks finished

Initial taste for spice tolerance: there is a minor amount of burn! And it's tasty.

Sipped the broth! Gagged and coughed a little because that is spiciER. While tears are in my eyes I doubt they'll fall. Not the spiciest ramen I've had, but not for the spice averse of intolerant. Tastes quite good with the eggs!

I was not properly scientific about tasting the kimchi BEFORE immersing it in the soup broth, but it's okay! Not my favorite Kimchi, a bit too vinegar heavy and it doesn't have that sort of mellow flavor primarily that I would be looking for. It's moreso earthy. But maybe that isn't technically the high quality 'chi. While I doubt it, I'm no expert.

With chicken top ramen at a 2/20 and chicken maruchan at a 4/10, i'd give this a solid 8/10!! It's nothing particularly special, which would actually make it quite nice for folks who like to dress their ramen up to the nines. It's not the most craveable, but I've gladly try it again! Though I might reach for maruchan if I really wanted a sodium hit, or for mi goreng (9/10. While not bought in this batch I'd love to rate it one it's own) to get something more texturally complex. The eggs are really carrying in that regard, though the chew of the noodles does hold up to a solid soak in the broth as I eat!

Notably, the bowl is also holding up beautifully, and the cover was neither too flimsy nor too difficult to remove. Balanced a fork like a champ to keep it closed during the rehydration process.

Now for it's online presence:

Jongga claims the kimchi adds a crunch texture, and that'd definitely false. I don't think it's bad! But if you want that good good kimchi crunch, it'd be best to add your own. (Actually, the kimchi sinks to the bottom, do you will get more crunch as you have less noodle. But despite much stirring, I wouldn't say it has textural variety. I'd actually reccomend eating it on the side of that's what you want! Though there's only really enough to constitute a garnish for flavor, and not an entire side dish. If you want veg, bring it from elsewhere)

Multiple reviews mention that it IS very sodium heavy (though it doesn't taste it to me, it's worth noting that I tend to eat foods just-too-salty, which is a part of this ramen journey called to me, though worry not for my blood pressure.), but none compare it to crack cocaine, or say it's worth selling a child for, which simply does not reach the bar set by Mi Goreng, and I'm inclined to agree.

At just about three dollars for a bowl that is enough to satisfy (from a person of roughly-rounded —you do not need to Percieve me and do nothing with this information but use it for context — 250 pounds) but that I wouldn't call filling, the monetary value is eh, bumping it down to a 7.5. and, the spicy throat-punch aside, I feel no temptation to drink off the rest of the broth, resting it at a solid 7/10.

[demonessryu]

tag game thing!

Rules: tag 20 people you want to get to know better.

Tagged by @msilverstar

Relationship status: indifferently single

Favorite color: black and red because I’m a cliche

Song stuck in my head: For reasons only known to God and Pavarotti, Nessun Dorma. I don’t even know the words.

Last song I listened to: ... Lucifer by SHINee. I had a kpop phase years ago and always play my music on shuffle. This song played while I was working out (this group wasn’t even my favorite!).

Three favorite foods: instant noodles, pizza, mushroom soup

Last thing I googled: a new event in a game I play (Wildermyth). It’s a pretty cool game that I play on the easiest difficulty level because I’m a stressed out wuss that I can’t recommend enough if you’re into turn-based RPG

Dream trip: *sighs* here’s a sad story. In 2020, I was supposed to travel to Europe. I had booked the hotels and stuff and even bought the ticket to Queen concert in Barcelona. Of course then the pandemic hit and I had to scrap the plan. Then, I was going to go this year, but recession happened and it’s just not financially responsible to go, so that plan was also scrapped. Now, I have a tentative plan to travel domestically this September/October, but, well, it’s tentative. The dream trip is still terrorizing Europe and stalking Queen, but at this point idk if that will ever happen (third time’s a charm?).

Anything I want right now: financial security  finishing up my many WIPs and putting them out there.

Tagging: uhhh @siriouslytired @sassiesillie @onegoldenglance @i-am-pinkie @jeza-red

[marshmallow--3]

Dream me making real me feel like shit ._.

I dreamt I were putting together lunch packs for homeless people, putting things in like bottles of juice and water, jelly pots that contained fruit to help fend off dehydration, small oranges, apples, cereal bars, pots of instant pasta, rice or noodles and I bought bread and ham to put together sandwiches.

Real me has only just been paid and has to make it last for 2-3 months because I'm on the verge of resigning for health reasons and that could be a slippery slope to unemployment and homelessness itself.

[generative-adversarial-nitwit]

does anyone sincerely like these wicked brand instant cups or are they just investing hard into the US expansion? they’ve taken over several shelves at our local freddys and are even showing up at 7-11 which… even for an inner SE portland market it seems weird to see 7-11 stocking vegan mac and cheese cups lol

stxalq and i have tried a few varieties and my opinions so far have sorta ranged from weird but okay (potatoes & beans chili mac) to weird and kind of bland but at least edible (spicy smoky mac) to straight up nasty (late night rice noodles. no substantial flavor other than being a little spicy and the “broth” gelled so much, i guess from the noodle starch, that it clung to the noodles like slime. terrible lmao). i should note that i was more or less a vegan for several years so like, i can appreciate a plant based mac. plant based mac can be delicious. i like the taste of nutritional yeast. but their macs are kind of overwhelmingly nooch-y and nothing else and idk what the fuck happened in development with the rice noodle ones. do people genuinely like a thick coat of vaguely soy-flavored slime on their “soup” noodles :(

it’s just so weird to me it’s like… what is the target demo for these… the point is that they’re vegan but they’re barely labeled as such except for a couple of tiny graphics. when stxalq first bought the macs he didn’t even realize there was no dairy in them. plus they’re branded in that slightly edgy masculine way with the stuff photoshopped into cast iron like “This isn’t HEALTH FOOD for HIPPIE SOYBOYS this is DUDE FOOD that just HAPPENS to be vegan” but then the food itself tastes granola and healthy as hell. it’s like they want to appeal to non-vegans and/or people who aren’t health food freaks but i can’t imagine anyone outside of those groups thinking this stuff doesn’t taste like dirt lol

of course vegans will (speaking from personal experience) tolerate mediocre food when the options are limited (as they are with these types of just-add-hot-water instant cups). but committed vegans are also (out of necessity) used to putting a little more effort into food prep and there are tons of other convenience food options suitable for vegans that legitimately taste good (or at least better) and only require a little bit more work. there are even vegan boxed macs on the market in the US these days. daiya makes one that’s velveeta style. i could see picking up a few of these for a camping trip or short-term disaster kit or something but idk why most vegans would be buying them regularly

health food freaks on the other hand are (speaking again from past experience) pathologically obsessed with suffering for the sake of “clean eating” and are therefore more than happy to eat food that tastes like shit. but health food freaks also aren’t going to touch “processed” convenience foods and/or anything resembling decadence (like mac & cheese) with a ten foot pole in the first place so it’s like. what’s the point of making the stuff “healthy.” just make it taste good lmao

anyway they make a lot other stuff beyond these weird instant pots and maybe some of that is good. i know they’re popular in the UK and there must be a reason for that (insert “bri’ish food bad lmao lmao” yeah ok. moving on.) especially given that the market for vegan stuff seems pretty competitive over there. gonna see if i can get some of the icèd creams and non-instant noodle kits and see if they’re any good

[lisynearchives]

christmas lights (routrine, 1.3k, post-canon. implied not sfw at the very end)

It is, by all means, a strangely sunny leadup to Christmas. Sunshine is nothing new down in Solyeung, but a sunny Christmas in the rest of Lisyne, not so much. A good omen, or a bad omen, depending on who you ask. Or depending on the mood. Citrine's mother had been more of the mercurial sort.

No reason to think about her, though. Citrine shakes his head and takes the stairs two steps at a time back to the ROB2NS office, forgoing the old, rickety lift. His sneakers make an unpleasant plap-plap sound against the concrete steps, and the cheap supermarket bags he's holding rustle against his jeans. He cringes at the sound.

The ROB2NS office is on the third floor -- a respectable lift ride, but a small hike on foot, especially going up, and with baggage, nonetheless. Citrine seriously regrets not taking the lift now. Fucking mom angst distracted him.

He leans against the wall by the office door fo a moment just to find his keys, but the door opens abruptly from inside. Roulette sticks xyr head out, xyr eyes alight.

"Did you get the lights?"

Wearily, Citrine points to the bags on the ground. Roulette lights up further and brings them in, leaving Citrine to catch his breath outside. Tell-tale signs of having been an only child most of xyr life, Citrine supposes. Even now, with Sage in the picture, Roulette and Sage really act more like members of an extended family more than siblings.

Citrine wonders how his little brother is doing. Yet another thought to banish.

He's taken a moment too long. Roulette comes back out without the bags, xyr hand reaching out to ask if xe can touch him. Citrine nods, and xe touches him on the shoulder gently. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah." Citrine pushes off the wall and heads inside, Roulette following. The bags have been deposited onto the coffee table. "Just remembered some stuff."

"Do you want to talk?"

Roulette always asks, even though neither of them are much for talking about their feelings. Only late at night, when the bustle of Lisyne has simmered down into white noise and it's only the two of them sitting in it. Shoulder to shoulder on the office couch, a blanket each because Citrine gets annoyed when they share and Roulette moves. Eyes cast somewhere else, so it's easier to confess. I keep remembering her. I wish I didn't.

It's still broad daylight, so Citrine just turns to the bags. "Not right now."

Roulette accepts this. Xe snatches up the box of Christmas lights that Citrine had bought -- the crown jewel of Citrine's shopping -- and peels off the tape from the opening. "We can put away the rest later," xe cajoles, maneuvering Citrine's hands away from the depths of the bags. "Come here, I want to put these up first."

"There's like, twenty four meters of the shit," Citrine says, as nothing more than a comment. He stands back and watches Roulette pull out a tangled mess of lights, knotted around itself both wire and tiny lightbulbs. Xe continues to pull them out, a magician with xyr scarves, until the box is finally empty and the veritable birds'-nest of wire sits on their floor instead.

Citrine looks at it and immediately surrenders. "You're better at this than I am," he says, holding his hands up. "And I went to buy them. I can put the other stuff away."

"Sure," Roulette says. "I was the one who asked for them anyway. Thank you, Citrine."

Citrine shrugs. "Wasn't a big deal."

A hum. "I'd still like to thank you."

"You just did."

Roulette can make a conversation go on forever about nothing at all, so Citrine turns his back before xe can go on and starts to put away the rest of his so-called spoils. It's all mundane -- granola bars, instant noodles, refill for their diffuser. He would have restocked on tea too, but Roulette had given him a gift pack of the stuff last week. The good kind, too -- the kind Citrine is too cheap to buy himself. A bunch of loose leaf teas all packed into a pretty box.

It's not Christmas yet, Citrine had said when xe gave it to him.

It's not a Christmas present, Roulette had said. It's just a present.

I don't have anything for you back.

Roulette had flopped onto the couch by then, started to reach for xyr phone. You don't have to. Xe started grinning. Actually, how about this? You're not allowed to get me anything back. You have to just accept it, no strings attached.

Pu'er, chamomile, lemongrass and ginger, more Citrine can't recall at the moment. He's only brewed one pot from the gift pack so far, though he usually blitzes through his grocery store teas.

He's trying to savour them. That much is easy to guess. But it's not just the teas; it's the token of Roulette's affection too, there to remind him every time he looks at the box.

He might brew another pot after they get the lights set up. Just to get Roulette to stop teasing him about hoarding the teas. And anyway, it'll be nice to drink together. They usually have their own drinks each morning -- Citrine with his tea, Roulette with xyr coffee.

With the groceries -- "groceries" -- put away, Citrine wanders to where Roulette is. For a split second he considers perching his chin on xyr shoulder the way xe does to him, just to see xem surprised for once, but decides against it. Roulette stands next to the coffee table with a much smaller, but still significantly tangled knot in xyr hands. Xe attempts tugging and slipping the bulbs through this way and that, xyr eyebrows knitting into an uncharacteristic frown.

"Can't figure it out?" Citrine asks.

"No." Roulette grumbles. "I have most of it undone, it's just -- this last part."

"Good luck with that."

That gets a laugh out of Roulette. "You're not going to help?" xe says mock-plaintively, as Citrine sits down on the couch.

"Nah."

Knots annoy Citrine. Knots especially. Replying client emails and humid weather also annoy him, but there's something extra frustrating about knots. The fact that you can do something about them, feel like you're getting somewhere, ultimately get nowhere, but you can't stop trying anyway. He gets stuck in it too easily.

Roulette is the one who's had to pry tangled wires out of his hands, so xe just laughs again at the flippant rejection.

A moment later, Roulette drops the lights, knots and all, onto the floor. "We'll just deal with it later," xe decides. "No point blowing up about them."

"Sure."

Citrine helps Roulette drape the lights even though xe hadn't asked, until the floor is outlined in a rectangle of soft, glowing lights. Roulette tucks the mess of knots next to the coat-stand, somehow arranging it so it might pass for a quirky decoration rather than a ball of hell. Xe winds the spare meters around it, turning it into a strange, makeshift mont blanc dessert. Night has fallen, and the lights illuminate the darkness warmly.

"This is great," Roulette says, looking over their handiwork with a soft, satisfied smile. "Now we're ready for winter. I'd like to keep them all year, even."

Citrine shrugs. "Sure."

And it is pretty. Cozy, with the teas Roulette got him sitting on a cabinet, Roulette's coat hung up on the stand, Citrine's cardigan tossed over the back of the couch. The gentle yellow glow makes the place look homey instead of messy. Well. Maybe just homey as well as messy.

Roulette turns to him. "This light is nice and dim for sex, too," xe says, all pretend-musing with a hand on xyr chin, a new mischievous glint in xyr eyes. "What do you think?"

Citrine gets up from the couch and kisses xem in response.

[erenisms]

prologue

WHAT WE CAN BE : in which eren deals with his crush on you like an elementary school kid and you're having none of it.

eren likes you. a lot. but he treats your existence like it's god's punishment to humanity. and you, not having any idea why he loathes your presence so much, decided to not give a single fuck about him.

pairing: eren jaeger x f!reader, +slight!reiner x reader

genre: e2l, fluff, crack

CH. 00: mighty four.

masterlist. | you. | eren. | next.

“KIRSTEIN, YOU TRAITOR.”

“WE’LL NEVER FORGET THIS.”

“Ow, what the fuck?!”

Sasha and Connie tackled Jean right as he entered the living room of your apartment. The three of them collapsed right on the floor but somehow, the bags of food managed to stay intact without a single spill.

“Hi, Jean.” You greeted, eyes not leaving the plates you’re setting on the table.

“What the hell is going on?” The assaulted male craned his head up as much as he could with two humans weighing him down.

“How did you do it?! It’s impossible to have schedules that similar!” Sasha exclaimed, digging her elbow on Jean’s stomach.

“Is it because you’re Erwin’s favourite? How the fuck are you Erwin’s favourite?” Connie whined, slumping further into the other male.

Instead of being even more deterred, the dual-tone haired male smirked.

“Heh.” Jean pushed off your two enraged friends successfully.

“Don’t.” You reprimanded, but your best friend was already starting his story of how he joined Erwin’s non-governmental organization to do good for society that everyone within a mile radius had managed to hear at least thrice.

“It’s a selfless act, you know? Maybe that’s why he’s fond of me.” Jean shrugged his shoulders casually with a contradicting smug grin.

You playfully rolled your eyes as the other two openly gagged at his pridefulness.

“Don’t flatter yourself, horseface. Maybe he pitied you or something.” Connie grumbled, dusting his clothes off.

“Jean says that like Mr. Smith wouldn’t do that for anyone who asked.” You added and Connie looked at you like he was the one you took a jab at.

“Do you really just use your vocal cords to insult us?” He stared incredulously at you with offence.

“I’m surprised you know what vocal cords are.”

“See! This just proves my point!”

“Do you dumbasses want your food or— wait— SASHA!” Jean screamed, scowling at the other female in the room.

Sasha was only two bites away from finishing the taco she’s devouring and she immediately shoved it in her mouth. She gulped it down painfully before glaring at Jean, mad that he interrupted her snack break.

���Damn you!”

“No, damn you, potato freak!”

“Let that nickname die!”

“Never!”

“You two better calm down or I’m kicking you out.” You scolded, placing a hand on your hip and gestured the other at the door.

“You can’t do that, I live here with you!” Sasha shouted, loosening her grip on Jean’s mullet.

“And I bought half of our dinner!” Jean reasoned, letting go of Sasha’s ponytail.

You glared. “Watch me.”

“Stop talking, start eating!” Connie who’s already in the kitchen exclaimed. “I’m starving!”

The four of you finally piped down and decided to have as much of a peaceful dinner as you can. Sasha and Connie were setting the food on the table because you’ve already cooked and set the plates while Jean, well, he bought take-out.

“What’re you glaring at on the bird app?” You asked the aforementioned male who sat beside you when you saw him eyeing his Twitter with disdain.

“Jaeger doesn’t shower.” Jean scoffed, face contorting in disgust.

“Zeke Jaeger?”

“No, the other one.”

…Dr. Grisha? You thought but did not bother to continue asking.

“Done!” Sasha threw her hands up and jumped on a seat. “Ugh, finally.”

“Let’s savour these foods right now because next week, we’ll be back to living off of cup noodles and instant coffee again like a true college student.” Connie dramatically declared.

“Shut up, eggboy, you’re overreacting.” Jean rolled his eyes. “What about you, airheads? Do you share any classes?”

“Whe’re naught airhweads!” The brown-haired girl exclaimed, spraying saliva everywhere.

“Yeah, Maths. And it’s with everyone’s favourite professor.” Connie drawled, shooting the three of you a look.

“Shadis then?” Jean raised his brows in amusement. “Damn, we weren’t lucky to escape him, huh? He must’ve seen your stupid tweet, Connie.”

“What?! No way! He doesn’t actually have a Twitter account like Reiner said, right?!” The accused male slammed his hands on the table before nervously tilting his head. “…Right?”

“Everyone has a Twitter account these days though.” Sasha pointed. “But even when—

“Say ‘if’, Sasha, goddammit!”

“Even when—” The brunette pressed. “—Shadis saw the tweet, why would he still want to teach us? S’not like he can’t pick the class he teaches. We all know he’s part of the school admins anyway.”

“Spite.” You answered plainly, twirling a forkful of pasta.

“Fuck, now I’m scared.”

“You should be.”

“Dammit, [Name], you’re not helping!”

“Well at least none of us get to suffer alone with him.” Jean stated before smiling triumphantly. “[Name] and I just happened to be luckier because we don’t have to slave over assignments alone at all.”

Connie leaned back on his chair, putting his hands behind his head as he swallowed a mouthful of food. He pulled his phone out and showed you the copy of yours and Jean’s schedule that he stole from your computers.

“Man, that’s true but I don’t know if I can handle having classes at 7 in the morning, much less a 7 am class on a Monday.”

“You can’t.”

“Shut up, [Name]!”

“Fuck’s sake, Connie, stop stealing our information!”

“I want seconds!”

ღ

just an introduction/prologue of you and your friends bc your life revolves around them and not eren :)

you guys are insane, the what we can be masterlist is still practically empty but we're already at a hundred notes

taglist: closed — @lamiapony @sofijaeger @hvneyluvr @callmemey @kjd55 @scarlett56 @reddesert-cal @tumerixs @songbirdgardensworld @freedomlsaburden @itsannayalll @jelliou + if your un is in purple, i can't tag you

- love, zari