#and I can remember making a homemade pizza (was not good) and I wanted to put some garlic powder on it
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does anyone else ever eat spices straight up or
#when I was little and my mom would take a bath I would go into the kitchen to eat salt#and I can remember making a homemade pizza (was not good) and I wanted to put some garlic powder on it#and#I got curious#so I just put some garlic on a spoon and ate it#I've treated actual full garlic like this too#just eating it straight#I should go for the ground up black peppers next#I already put it on platanos all the time I might as well just eat it straight#<- not the same thing.#I think I've eaten sugar straight up but. not my proudest moment#I do know the difference in taste between granulated and powdered sugar now though#or maybe its just a texture thing and I'm talking out of my ass#adobo.........I should eat adobo straight#no i shouldnt#do we have paprika.......hm
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omg a headcanon like the one you did for tom but for roman snd stewy? the period one i mean !! also gender neutral pls :>
thank you for requesting anon, i love u!!! enjoy xx
really craving pizza bianca rn
on your period (roman + stewy)
Roman
ᝰ has no idea what he’s doing
ᝰ he calls your period a full stop because ‘they’re synonyms lol’ (as his text said)
ᝰ just wants you happy
ᝰ so whenever you’re on your period he just
ᝰ does things for you??
ᝰ makes you breakfast in bed, attempts to pack you a lunch, botches dinner
ᝰ he’s trying at least
ᝰ he usually just settles for buying you whatever you’re craving and letting you lay your head in his lap
ᝰ he strokes your hair, your face, your neck, your back
ᝰ he makes sure you’re feeling good
ᝰ lots of chocolate all the time
ᝰ just so that he can eat it with you
ᝰ if you ever ruin any pants or clothing or even furniture, he replaces it without you knowing
ᝰ “didn’t i throw this pair of pants out last week?” you ask him one time
ᝰ “i got you a new one, don’t worry about it.”
ᝰ if you suffer with cramps or any sort of chronic illness regarding your reproductive health, he’s always quietly concerned
ᝰ “you sure it doesn’t hurt? you should tell me if it hurts.”
ᝰ keeps track of how long in between painkillers your pain returns
ᝰ makes you try a bunch of homemade remedies he googled
ᝰ the first time you go on your period while you’re living together, he goes out and buys you a heating pad, a weighted blanket, and a heated blanking thing all at once
ᝰ if you use pads or tampons, he gets really confused when out trying to buy some for you
ᝰ but he’s too embarrassed to ask
ᝰ so when you’re taking a nap he scuttles into the bathroom and takes a picture that he keeps on his phone
ᝰ and then gets the exact ones when he notices you’re running out or you ask him
ᝰ this man bullies the doctors that don’t listen to you
ᝰ like he is well known with the endocrinologists and gynecologists in the are as a nusiance
ᝰ and lowkey an asshole
ᝰ but it’s all ‘in your honor’ as he says
ᝰ “if they say they’re cramping, they’re cramping. aren’t you supposed to be helpful? how the fuck do you have a medical license?”
ᝰ has gotten kicked out of the appointment many a time
ᝰ but he always waits patiently for you outside
ᝰ and calls corporate like the diva he is
ᝰ has the means to get you the best care
ᝰ and he does get you it
ᝰ “you literally deserve so much more than i can give you. you’re my everything, remember?”
ᝰ “i love you, ro.”
ᝰ “fuck off with that sappy shit…. i love you more.”
Stewy
ᝰ knows enough about periods to be able to help you
ᝰ like he’s knowledgeable enough to cook things he knows your body is in need of during your period of ovulation
ᝰ urges you to work out specifically on your period
ᝰ “it helps clear your head,” he says
ᝰ but if you’re not up to it, he won’t make you
ᝰ maybe just a small walk around outside and he’ll let you just nap
ᝰ but if you even don’t even want to walk, he thinks you’re dying
ᝰ and showers you in affection
ᝰ which he does anyway even if he thinks you’re fine??
ᝰ he’s just dramatic
ᝰ he’s an awfully good cook
ᝰ he loves cooking
ᝰ especially for you
ᝰ he specifically makes you pho for dinner every first day of your period
ᝰ “it clears your sinuses, babe,” he says every single time
ᝰ it does, really
ᝰ he’s really big about the two of you sitting down at the table for meals
ᝰ but if you’re unable because of your period, it’s fine with him
ᝰ he bought one of those breakfast in bed trays just for those moments
ᝰ if you struggle with bad cramps or reproductive illness, he’s with you at every single appointment
ᝰ sometimes he even sits next to you on the patient bed
ᝰ he just likes swinging his legs over the side
ᝰ he scrambles off whenever the doctor comes in
ᝰ he’s so subtly evil with bad doctors
ᝰ “oh, i understand it’s your professional opinion, but i also understand this clinic operates solely on donations? huh, and i think those guys whose names are on plaques all over the place are my buddies! you know jeff? i know jeff!”
ᝰ holds your hand through everything
ᝰ pain, ultrasounds, examinations
ᝰ you’re both walking back to the car from a normal check up and he’s swinging your hands back and forth with his
ᝰ “you know, i’ll help you with anything you ask me to.”
ᝰ “thank you, stew. you’re sweet.”
ᝰ “i love you.”
#roman roy#stewy hosseini#roman roy x reader#stewy hosseini x reader#succession#succession hbo#succession x reader#wambsgansshoelaces#anon ask#succession headcanons
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I'll Always Worry (Spiderbro x Peter Parker PLATONIC)
Spiderbro taking care of peter after a mission cleaning his cuts, making him dinner and setting a bath for him and listening to him rant about whatever is on his mind also offers cuddles since my peter love language is physical touch
"Where's May?"
"Out. She's gonna be at a F.E.A.S.T. meeting all weekend, so I'm in charge."
Peter nods, and you see him for the first time. "Holy shit, Pete!"
He's covered in scratches, some of which are still bleeding, and didn't even try to get out of his Spider-Man suit, which is practically shredded.
He barely reacts when you snap into action, pushing your laptop aside and half-carrying him to his bed.
You help him get the wretched fabric off, and spend a while cleaning his scratches and cuts.
"Dude, what happened?"
Peter launches into a full on tirade and well, you asked. You sometimes forget that he doesn't have anyone to talk about this stuff with besides you, because your mom will worry about him even more than she already does and his friends don't quite get it
So you let him vent, and ask questions where needed
And watch the tension practically drain out of him as he talks himself all out of steam.
"Well... that sucks, buddy." You chuckle, and are relieved to see Peter smile wanly.
"I should get back out there...." he says softly, and you clear your throat.
"I'm in charge, Pete. Remember? So you're gonna stick right here. You need to recharge your batteries."
"But what if people are out there that I can help? With great power... comes great responsibility."
Your dad was a good man. But you have a feeling that Peter is making his last words into almost a mantra for existence as opposed to the dying words of a man desperately trying to distill all the paternal advice he would be unable to give into something, anything.
"You also have a responsibility to yourself, Peter. And part of having great power is knowing your limits. You can't help anyone if you hurt yourself doing it." you say sternly.
You gently take Peter by the shoulder, and he leans into the touch.
Thankfully, he relents. "I still feel guilty, though."
"Well, feel guilty in a bubble bath. I'm gonna make something for dinner for us, and I want you all melty and relaxed."
He chuckles. "I haven't had a bubble bath since I was a kid."
"You still are a kid, kid." You tease. "So relax, will ya?"
He raises his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay..."
He takes a while, so you go all out with dinner, making some cheese sandwiches, grilled with butter and smeared with a homemade pesto, and with some freshly cut tomato. You make a nice pile of them, and serve them with some soup.
Peter emerges in a loose white shirt and shorts, and he smiles at the meal you've made.
The sound of you two eating dominates the table - the food too good and the comfort too sweet to bother talking.
But finally when seconds and thirds are finished and your bellies almost uncomfortably full, you tell Peter this weekend is a recharge time. No Spider-Man.
You expect him to protest, but instead he nods, and he just... looks so lost.
"I figured we'd catch up with each other over the weekend. You know, order some pizza, play some games, chill."
"I'd like that."
"You wanna watch a movie with me?"
He nods again, and you grin at the eclectic collection of themed Band-Aids dotting his arms and legs.
You both crash on the couch, grabbing some blankets, but very soon, you stretch out an arm, and he leans against you.
Peter melts into the side hug, like he always does. The poor kid seems to crave physical affection.
Remembering when he first came to live with you all, when his parents died... he needed that loving, to make sure he knew he wasn't alone.
He became your little brother then, not just your cousin. And that first night he fell asleep in your arms, you promised yourself you would protect him.
It's become harder to protect him these days, but at least you can be here for this.
Your little brother falls asleep against you, and you let him rest, smiling a little as you watch the movie on a lower volume, watching over him.
#spiderbro reader#spiderman x male reader#peter parker x male reader#headcanon#marvel headcanons#spiderman headcanons#spiderman x reader#peter parker x reader
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hello, my friend. from the prompts list, may i please request "tell me about your day" where the reader asks Matt about his day?
or, maybe Matt makes a gluten-free pizza for the reader 😉 tysm ♡
how about both? this makes my little celiac heart happy. thank you for the request <3
ease my mind
Chaotic. That’s one way to describe the day I’ve had at work. People demanding more that one person can do at a time, getting berated for doing my job, being pulled in every direction I feel myself slowly falling apart. As soon as I shut my car door, my head meets the headrest as I let out a loud groan, before heading home.
I’m used to driving the same route home everyday. It's automatic for me at this point. Tonight however my overwhelmed brain has led me to your house. I stood aimlessly at your front door for a few minutes debating if I should just go, considering it is pretty late and you yourself have been busy lately. Before I can let myself think any longer I press your contact, calling you, not wanting to wake anyone else up.
“Hi honey what’s up?” You pick up at the first ring.
“Hi, could you please unlock the door for me?” I weakly say, not having much energy to talk.
“Of course I’ll be right there” you say. I can hear you rushing off your bed before hanging up.
Opening the door you immediately pull me into your arms, which is exactly what I needed. The smell of freshly baked food fills my nose, comforting me.
“Smells great in here” I compliment.
“I made pizza from scratch, it took a while” you chuckled.
Unconsciously let out a sigh and frown, homemade pizza and I can’t have any. Things got so crazy at work I haven’t had a chance to stop and eat anything since 11am. It’s hitting me now smelling this pizza just how hungry I am.
Since being diagnosed celiac, you’ve been more aware of how difficult it is for me to find food I can eat while we’re out, having to check every label and how much I hate not being able to just eat what everyone else does. You’ve started carrying snacks for me in your bag so I always have something to eat. I love how thoughtful you are. It makes me feel like a burden having to ask places to take extra precautions when preparing my food and limiting the amount of places we can eat.
“I made it just for you, it’s gluten free. It took a while because I wanted to make sure everything was safe and cleaned properly before making it. I double checked everything and even made Nick and Chris check too” you said proudly.
“Matt” my lips form a pout. “You did all that for me? Oh thank you my love, you didn’t have to” I gush, my heart doubling in size.
“Of course I did. I know how much you despise baking so you won’t make any gluten free stuff for yourself so I thought I would try. I tried a piece it’s pretty good. I was gonna bring it to you tomorrow but since you’re here now let’s eat” you say.
Each grabbing a few slices of pizza we made our way to your room getting comfy in bed. “How was work tonight?’ You ask.
“Wasn’t a good night. I’d rather not talk about it” I sigh, not wanting to remember the events. “Tell me about your day” I ask, wanting to be distracted and hearing you talk puts me at ease.
“I’m sorry honey, but hey look on the bright side you have the next 2 days off and you’ll be spending it with me, taking it easy because you deserve it” you softly say. “My day, hmm. I didn’t do much. I went to the store to get all the stuff to make the pizza which took up a good portion of the day because I’m not used to baking. Oh and I got some of your favorite snacks to keep over here so you have food when you stay over. Other than that we spent a few hours at the warehouse planning out some video ideas” You tell me, while your thumb rubs soothingly over the back of my hand.
“I can’t thank you enough for everything you do for me. You know how much I love that you carry snacks around for me but let me pay you back. I feel bad, gluten free food is pricey, I can’t let you spend your money on that for me” I plead.
“Oh zip it I don’t mind buying you things. I don’t want you to have to buy or pack food for when you come to stay over. I should have things you can eat here. I love having you here and being able to take care of you. I love you sweetheart” you say.
“I love you more. You made my day so much better. Can you keep talking, I don’t care what it’s about. I just wanna listen to you talk, you put my mind at ease” I ask, moving my now empty plate to the bedside table and get myself comfy in your arms.
“I’ll do anything for you honey” you promise me.
Taglist:
@d0wnt0wnstu4n1ol0 @im-a-matt-girl @iluvmatt @stxrniqlo @antisocialties
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»{ Mark Hoffman x Peter Strahm }« ✦ { ao3 }
«- previous chapter / next chapter -»
✦ Summary: This moment in time feels inevitable. It is as though Peter was always meant to wind up in the crushing dark with Mark Hoffman, tangled in a deadly situation that neither man can escape from unscathed.
✦ Rating: 18+ for explicit mature content.
✦ Content/tags: Background Angelina Acomb/Lindsey Perez, Alternate Universe - Diners, Slow Burn, Canonical Character Death, Canon Typical Gore, Detailed Descriptions of Wounds, Improper Wound Care, Non-Sexual Nudity, Cannibalistic Thoughts, Feeding Kink, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Divorced Peter Strahm, Murder, Masturbation, John Kramer is still jigging his saw
✦ Word count: 9,815
✦ Status: Multi-chapter / Ongoing
✦ Author's note: Lindsey and Peter's friendship is so special... to me.
The sun is already beginning to dip below the horizon by the time Strahm parks his car in the parking lot forming a moat around the modest apartment building. Winter hours make the daylight run out like the seconds on a timer. The retired agent doesn’t mind. He’s never belonged in the light, even if he’d once believed he did.
Feeling his back protest, Peter unfolds himself from the seat of the Crown Vic. Once on his feet, he stabilizes himself with a hand on the roof before leaning down inside just far enough to snag a Tupperware container and his overnight bag off of the passenger seat. The plastic box is still warm to the touch. It’s a sharp contrast to the wind trying to gnaw through the leather of his jacket. The temperature is enough to get him to put a rush on his movements. With hurried motions, he slams the vehicle’s door and all but jogs up the steps to Lindsey’s unit.
When he knocks, it’s with a too hard rap of his knuckles against the wood. His days with the FBI make him feel like a haunted house at times. Ghosts of drug busts and serial murder cases roam the halls of his mind. How many doors had he and his partners kicked in over the years when they were too impatient or too cocksure to wait for the SWAT team? His hand keeps the memories even if his own mind lets go.
“Hello, good sir,” Lindsey greets, whipping the door open, “Pray tell. What’s the password for the keep?”
“It’s ‘I didn’t sign up for dinner at Medieval Times. I’m old and I’m tired’,” Peter grumbles, trying to sidestep her.
He really is tired. Despite Strahm’s best efforts, Detective Hoffman has set up residence in his thoughts and it’s been doing a number on his ability to sleep. Unsatisfied with his sour mood, Perez blocks his foot with hers in a squeak of bare toes against his boot. He recoils.
“Put some socks on,” he says, aghast.
“I already gave you a hint,” she prompts. She’s not letting him in until he guesses what movie she is alluding to. Like him, she doesn’t let go when her jaw is locked.
Not bothering to hide his sigh, he shifts the Tupperware container from one arm to the other. He’d made mozzarella and tomato sauce filled mini croissants tonight. His partner had been moaning about wanting homemade pizza all weekend, so he had decided to do the next best thing. Peter is almost regretting his act of care. Still, he wracks his brain trying to remember what they had watched last Monday.
Her wording being the hint… Oh, it was the one that’d had some blond jackass in tights. Lindsey had socked him in the arm for laughing before breaking down as well.
“Robin Hood,” he answers.
“Robin Hood, what?”
“Robin Hood… in tights?” he tries.
Her smile nearly blinds him. “Good enough, buddy. You’re not senile yet.”
“Every day, I pray for the oblivion of memory loss,” he says dryly as his partner lets him through.
Even facing her back, Strahm can tell that she rolls her eyes at him. He trails after Lindsey to the kitchenette only for her to shove two glasses and a jaw-droppingly large bottle of Cosmopolitan at him. It’s chock-full of edible glitter that shimmers in the pink depths. It’s disgustingly cheery and liable to get them absolutely plastered. Lindsey means business on sleepover nights and that doesn’t include his usual proclivity for what she says is “sad old man alcohol”.
He wouldn’t expect anything else from the woman who got him so drunk one night, he willingly participated in gluing rhinestones to their work phones. Peter had woken up hungover and aching on her couch only to get his ass chewed back at the Bureau for tampering with federally provided property and allowing his subordinate to do the same.
Lindsey, of course, had doubled down after getting reprimanded. She had gotten them both phone charms of a mouthless white cat wearing a bow out of a coin machine–with quarters he’d begrudgingly fished out of his own pocket because he has never wanted to deny her anything.
It had made him smile, to take out the device out back in those days. Looking at the phone had provided him with an unusual sort of comfort, especially during his second divorce. He would turn it over and over in his hand, letting the sharp edges of some of those cheap, plastic gems scrape against his palm. He’s sure that Lindsey doesn’t know just how many times she has saved his life over the years. Not with gunfire or violence, but with her presence alone. Knowing that she was there and had his back was enough to keep him placing one foot in front of the other.
When they had left the FBI together, he’d kept the cat charm after he had turned in his work phone. It’s tucked away in the part of his dresser that holds the ties that he still hasn’t gotten rid of. Perez had also kept her charm. He’s seen it nestled in alongside her earrings and other jewelry.
He’s been quiet for too long, lost in thought. Lindsey notices and shoos him out of the kitchen. “I’ll be there in a second. Go settle in.”
Peter cooperates and makes his way to her bedroom door. It’s the only one left ajar. Her roommate's is shut tight.
Once in the small room, he sets down his cargo beside the TV resting on the dresser. Peter eases the strap of his bag off his shoulder and lets it land with a soft thump on the carpeted floor. Bending down, he unlaces his boots before setting them alongside Lindsey’s shoe rack by her door. He keeps his socks on but shrugs off his leather jacket and hangs it up on the only free peg on the wall-mounted rack. Lindsey keeps it open for him.
In his own rental home, he has several spaces that he leaves empty for her in return. She stocks his preferred brand of toothpaste and he keeps a bottle of the hair oil she uses every Monday. They alternate movie night locations. Their lives are intertwined. He wouldn't have it any other way.
Strahm picks the remote up off of the made bedspread and turns on the TV before dropping it back onto the mattress. The CRT screen flares to live. He’s pre-gaming whatever movie Lindsey picks from her and her roommate’s shared collection in the living room with the news. He’s a simple man. On his nights, he just takes his Vic down to the video rental place and grabs an unvetted stack of DVDs. It’s one of the few things in his life he doesn’t overthink.
Unsurprisingly, every news station is reporting on the rash of murders committed by a serial killer the press has taken to calling “Jigsaw” on account of the puzzle piece shaped chunks of skin that the perpetrator has been carving out of the victim’s bodies. In missives relayed by survivors, this Jigsaw is claiming that they’re not a killer at all, merely a game maker seeking to provide enlightenment to the ungrateful.
In Strahm’s opinion, it’s all a crock of bullshit. People dying as a direct result of your actions makes you complicit in their deaths.
Eyes still on the screen, Peter pours himself a drink. The glass quickly fills up with the shimmering liquid. It sparkles in the changing light from the TV, picking up the colors being broadcast. It’s refreshingly cool in his calloused hand.
He moves away from the TV to take a seat on the bed, leaning back against the mountain of throw pillows Lindsey has decided to pile against the headboard. There’s part of him that thinks it might be a long con trap devised in the hope that he smothers in his sleep.
From what the current news station is claiming, the police department and their FBI liaison have allowed more information to leak to the general public. He is sure that it must be rankling at Special Agent Kerry—she had never been one to be open about case information when he had worked with her in the past.
With a series of jarring crime scene photos, the news anchor walks the viewers through one of the traps that had been used in a recent game. Like the majority of the others, it, too, had taken place in a desolate warehouse. To Strahm’s eyes, it is all a fucked up piece of work. The killer had used some kind of iron maiden style headgear that had snapped closed like a Venus flytrap. They’re calling it the death mask. The footage is a pixelated smear of black and red. He can hear the buzzing of flies through the screen, can almost smell the rot and the dry dust of the warehouse.
Flashes of the same trap in bluepoint pen on a flimsy napkin—the cheapest they could get, really—hammer at his brain. He sees Mark’s hand, the way he had hidden the napkin from view the minute he realized Strahm was playing the role of the voyeur.
“Oh shit,” Peter says, too loud. With his revelation, he nearly lets the glass slip out of his hand to go tumbling across the bed. He rests it on his jean-clad knee with a vice grip.
Lindsey stops in the doorway of her bedroom, pausing at his outburst. She’s holding a massive bowl of popcorn in her hands. It’s something she contributes every Monday night because it’s a heart attack in a bowl, laden down as it is with pretzels, m&m’s, peanuts, and a generous caramel drizzle. Sometimes Strahm thinks he could go out peacefully this way—in his sleep after several too-full glasses of alcohol and a sickening amount of Lindsey’s popcorn concoction, movie still playing in the background and illuminating the two friends.
“Pete?” she asks, concern coloring her voice.
“Saturday. You were out. He was drawing...” He points at the TV with the hand still holding onto the glass.
His partner comes around to look at the screen. Her face tightens once she realizes what he’s referring to. “Your detective?”
The weight of what she knows Peter is suggesting is suffocating. She snatches up the Tupperware container and slaps it and the bowl in the middle of the bed before picking up the remote.
“Don’t. Just talk to him next time he comes in.”
“Lindsey—”
“Peter,” she interrupts, changing the channel to the DVD player input.
The retired FBI agent takes a breath. Lindsey is right. He doesn’t want her to be. He wants to turn this over in his mind until he’s sick with possibilities. It’s not his case. It’s no longer his job to put a name to the monsters crawling the streets. He’ll be crushed under the weight of it all if he doesn’t listen to his partner.
He slings back a mouthful of Cosmo. He savors the slight burn of the vodka as it goes down and forces himself to file everything away in order to focus on the moment. Peter makes himself pay attention as Lindsey opens a DVD case and shoves the disk into the player.
“What are we watching?” he asks as if this is normal night and his habits are not battering down the front door.
“Some romance movie that Melanie swears is the most thing heartbreaking in the world,” she answers.
Pouring a glass of Cosmo for herself, she fast forwards thought the pre-menu trailers. With the remote and her drink in hand, she makes her way back to the bed. She settles onto it beside him. The popcorn bowl and Tupperware serve as a divider between them.
“I feel like her metric for that is skewed.”
Lindsey jabs him in the side with her finger, causing him to grunt. “Don’t be rude.”
“Linds, she started crying because I didn’t want to go on a date with her.”
“Well,” she fiddles with the remote and selects PLAY on the menu. “You did… disappoint her by acting like she’d shot you when she asked what your star sign is. She just wanted to know if you were ‘compatible’.”
“Maybe she should meet with my ex-wives, reminisce a little in a support group. I’m chronically incompatible and great at disappointing women,” he says, chasing his words with another swallow of his beverage.
“It should be on your resume. It’s a skill,” she agrees.
They settle in to watch the movie in a comfortable silence that doesn’t last for long.
“Oh, what the fuck—” Strahm starts.
“Maybe you were right—” Perez also speaks.
Lindsey makes a frustrated noise and downs the rest of her drink. She sets the glass on her nightstand with a clatter.
“If some guy climbed a Ferris wheel and tried to coerce me into a date by threatening to hurt himself and then wouldn’t take the damn hint when I said no again, I’d be filing a restraining order.”
“For sure,” he agrees and, with a groan at the sight of the soon-to-be couple laying in the street, adds, “Oh, fuck off.”
Much to their dismay, the movie doesn’t improve. Both Lindsey and Peter have to stand up more than once throughout it to refill their glasses. By the time the film is over, the diner owners are thoroughly sauced. As soon as the credits roll, Strahm stumbles to the bathroom to change into the sleep clothes he’d brought with him. The sweatpants are riddled with holes and marked with old paint stains from when they’d painted the diner together. He leaves the clip pinning up what Lindsey calls his "mid-life crisis mullet" on the counter.
Before reentering Lindsey’s bedroom, he knocks on the doorframe and waits for her “Yeah!”. Stepping back in, he finds that Lindsey has also swapped her clothing. She’s also perched on his side of the bed with a mozzarella roll crammed into her mouth. She’s put another movie in. The Tupperware container is resting on her lap. She has the remote in one hand and a bottle of hair oil in the other.
Already knowing what she wants, he takes the bottle from her and takes a seat behind her. He’s careful to leave enough space so that they don’t touch. She’s already brushed her hair and it lays in thick curls down her back.
“Here,” she says, offering him a roll over his shoulder. He leans forward and carefully snags it with his teeth.
He’s mid-chew and just spreading the oil on his fingers to apply to her scalp when she speaks again. “So, are you going to pull some Ferris wheel shit for Mark?”
He swallows hastily, too soon, tries not to choke. “What?”
“I’m not blind. You’ve got more chemistry with him than I’ve seen you have with anyone.”
He slips his fingers into the roots of her hair, starts working in careful circles. “Yeah, if that chemistry was dislike.”
“Sure. You keep telling yourself that.”
───※ ·❆· ※───
Peter rolls into the parking lot first, closely tailed by Lindsey’s yellow eyesore of a ‘02 Ford Ranger. As they park, he notices a pair of figures standing in front of the diner. Having seen at least one of them every single day for the past few weeks, he immediately recognizes them. It’s Mark and his sister.
“Fuck,” he curses under his breath as he gets out of his car and meets Lindsey. Together, they approach the front door. Strahm’s already got the correct key primed. The realization of last night hasn’t left him, even if he is suffering from enough of a hangover to have necessitated Perez kicking at him to get his ass out of bed. He wouldn’t be surprised if he has a bruise.
He is a twice divorced man approaching middle age having what essentially boils down to slumber parties with his only friend. His time with Lindsey is the highlight of his weeks. It’s enough to be considered embarrassing without having a crisis because the man he thinks has been flirting with him might very well be one of the most notorious serial killers of their time. Peter knows that he’s a fucking joke.
As they get closer, Strahm realizes that the detective looks dead on his feet. The man is wearing a police slicker instead of his usual suit jacket. He’s wavering slightly, like a ship at sea despite leaning heavily against the side of the building. In contrast, Angelina looks chipper—radiant even.
“Good morning!” the woman shouts as soon as they get within earshot. Mark sways away from his sister as though her voice had physically hurt him.
“Morning!” Perez calls back, a sudden eagerness to her pace.
It surprises him. Lindsey is usually much more reserved. She’s chosen to be saddled with him for almost a decade. They don’t open for another half-hour, but he already knows that she is going to snuff out any suggestion from him that they leave these two on the stoop.
In another surprise, the two women meet in a hug. Peter skirts around them to unlock the door. At his side, too close for comfort, Mark rallies himself enough to engage in harassment.
“Where’s my hug and kiss, Peter?”
Barely resisting the urge to flip the detective off, he lets himself through the door first. He nearly clips Hoffman with the edge of it as the other man follows on his heels. Peter doesn’t want to think about what it might feel like to be that close to him, to feel the yielding bulk of his body in the circle of his arms.
He’s nice enough to pull the chairs off the top of Angie and Mark’s usual table before taking his jacket off and joining Lindsey as they go through the motions of getting the diner ready to open. The detective takes his seat wearily, arms on the table and forehead resting against them. His sister gives him a pat on the shoulder on the way to her own chair.
A few minutes before he needs to flip the sign, Strahm is back at at their table. His sleeves are rolled up and he’s slightly too warm from prepping the cook-top. He doesn’t bother to pull the notepad from his belt. They’re past menus and order sheets now.
“What do you want to eat?”
“Two orders of those pancakes with the faces, please. Oh, and some hashbrowns.” Angie says, glee lighting up her voice. She beckons Peter closer and shields her mouth from her brother. He obligingly leans down for her to speak into his ear.
“Can you make Mark’s look like him?” she whispers conspiratorially. He can’t help but return her shit-eating grin with a smile of his own.
“Sure thing.”
The man in question doesn’t even lift his head off the table as Strahm heads to the kitchen. He thinks that he might genuinely have dozed off.
Lindsey leaves him to it while he puts together the pair’s meals. Angie’s comes together easily. He does hers up to make a beamingly happy face. He remembers that she prefers bananas to blueberries and if she doesn’t have Linds’s house-made caramel sauce on it, she’ll look up to either of them for “just a drizzle, please”. Peter has unintentionally found himself filing away information about the brother and sibling like he does with Perez.
It’s only to avoid complaints, he tells himself. It’s a lie. What a disquieting thing it is to realize that he cares.
For Mark’s pancake, the crowning achievement is the lips. They’re made up of a thick sausage link cut in half and carefully arranged to form a pouting upper and lower lip. They glisten in the overhead light. He usually does bacon for the mouths, but it would not have done justice to Angelina’s request. Here at the diner, he’s all about customer satisfaction. Peter is just doing his job.
Lindsey sneaks at peak at the plates when he carries them out. She has to suppress a laugh. “Oh no.”
“It looks like him?”
“Definitely.”
He finds that Lindsey has already gotten them their beverages. Angie is sucking on the straw planted in her orange juice while Mark is staring into his barely touched coffee like it’s a crystal ball. He doesn’t look any more awake than he did on the doorstep.
Peter puts down Angie’s plate first. She gives it an approving nod before looking up at him, excitement barely contained. He sets the other plate down in front of Mark. The sausage lips jiggle a little upon impact and the detective’s sister is not disappointed. She only just manages to keep a straight face.
Mark looks back at the blueberry eyes beadily staring up at him from their whipped cream eye whites and turns to Peter with questioning expression on his face. Peter has a serious set to his mouth, the same distant appearance he used to wear during interrogations. He gives nothing away. Mark then faces Angie. She buries herself in her own pancake, refusing to make eye contact lest she break.
The seated man sighs, giving in. “I don’t have a yellow tie,” he says picking up a fork and gesturing at the egg that Strahm had fried and cut into the shape of the neck wear.
“Maybe you can get one at the clown convention next time it’s in town.” There’s no bite to Peter’s voice.
“Hmm,”Mark rumbles thoughtfully, almost fond, “maybe you can fuck off.”
───※ ·❆· ※───
Peter is in the back, prepping a tray of roast for tomorrow. It will sit, covered, in the cooler overnight to marinate. He will cook it up mid-morning to be ready in time for their lunch special.
Having already encouraged Lindsey out of the door, he is alone in the diner with only the radio for company. She had done the bank run and had picked up some bottles of honey at the store. Their supplier had missed it in the shipment, leaving them bereft. Strahm felt like the extra work deserved an early night. Neither of the retired agents addressed that it was only an excuse for him to be alone. He has found himself needing solitude more as of late. There have been too many foreign feelings gnawing at his intestines like a parasite.
He flips over another chunk of meat in the bowl. He can’t help but wonder when Angelina and Mark became such an integral part of his life. Every morning, he finds himself looking forward to the moment the siblings walk through the door. Self-loathing sinks into his lungs as the raw meat held in his hands reminds him of the Jigsaw killer. Remembering his partner’s words, he shoves it aside and lets the idea of finding someone to focus on wash over him—someone who might not be up to their elbows in torture traps. Maybe it would be best if he try picking someone up at one of the clubs Lindsey occasionally drags him to instead of behaving like a guard dog and glowering over her shoulder at any men who don’t get the hint that it’s a gay-oriented bar and she’s not there to talk to guys looking for female action.
Surely, he could find someone there. Peter could make it work. He could smooth out the sharp, unlovable edges of himself to find a form of happiness. There’s an image materializing in his mind of the kind of man he would like to share a life with. Thick fingered hands, garishly patterned ties nestled between oversized pecs, full lips with a perpetual smug lift of the corners… Fuck, he thinks to himself, he’s just thinking of—
The doorbell clatters. It’s explosive in the calm, aggressive, and Strahm gets a hint of something he’s not encountered much in the time since he’s left the FBI.
He strips his gloves off and tosses them into the fifty-five gallon trash can. His hackles are already up. On the way through the swinging door separating the kitchen from the rest of the diner, he shoves his right hand into his pants pocket to mask the itch he has for a gun he had carried on his hip for over a decade.
“Can I help you?” he calls across the expanse separating him and the stranger.
A young man stares back at him with wild eyes ringed with anger before donning the mask of someone calmer. “Hi, yes, I’m just looking for my girlfriend.”
“That so?”
His smile has an ugly twist to it, a crack in the facade. He steps closer. “Angelina? Long dark hair, about this tall...” He holds a hand a few inches below his chin. “Probably with her brother all the time?”
Distrust whispers in his ear, prompting Peter to shrug. The gesture is accompanied by a wide swing of his arms. This man reeks of a disgruntled ex looking to get even. Strahm would be willing to put his share of the diner on him being the reason why Angie seems to look over her shoulder and shrink into herself when Mark isn’t at her side. Peter isn’t going to give him a damn thing.
“Look, man, I just need to have a talk with her.” His hands are lodged in the pockets of his jacket. Peter can see him faintly tracing something. It’s not a gun, probably a knife. “She’s not doing well, has some crazy ideas swirling around in that head of hers.”
“Can’t help you,” he says, curt. There’s a part of him that relishes a fight, wants the other man to draw the knife from his pocket and give Peter something to sink his teeth into. It’s been so long.
“You don’t have to be such a bitch, man.” The stranger is scowling, looking almost like he might give Strahm the release he’s craving.
The words prompt a sigh and the raising of his eyebrows. “Get out.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Now.”
A smile of his own, more of a snarl graces the diner owner’s mouth. “Does it look like she’s here?” He gestures to the empty room, arms wide. “Get a hint.”
“I said—,” he starts.
“And I said to fuck off,” Peter interrupts. He takes a step forward, then another until he’s in the middle of the room. The man retreats, looking nervous. The cowardice makes Strahm even more irritated.
“Can you just tell her that I came looking? I’m the one that gets to decide when it’s over. Not her. She needs to remember…“ The stranger trails off. Back against the door now.
Peter puts his hand on the back of one of the chairs. He lifts it off the ground enough to get the point across that he will throw it. The feet scrape on the wood floor. It wouldn’t be the first time in his life he’s gotten pissed off enough to hurtle one.
The man puts his hands up, immediately showing his belly like a submissive dog. “My bad, man, my bad, have yourself a good night.”
He fumbles for the door and slips out. Peter lets go of the chair and stands in the silence. Headlights cut across the front of the diner as the stranger peels out of the parking lot. Strahm rubs his hands over his face and goes to lock the door and close the blinds. He swallows down the arid tang of disappointment.
───※ ·❆· ※───
“One of your sister’s associates came looking for her last night,” Peter says to Mark as he refills the detective’s coffee.
Angelina is seated at the counter for the time being while Lindsey plies her with flavored lemonade samples to test. Already, she’s working on the Spring menu. Mark has a spread of papers on the table that his sister had abandoned at. It looks like case reports for the Jigsaw situation, not that Strahm can scrutinize them too much under Mark’s careful gaze.
Mark’s full lips turn down in a frown. He looks troubled and when he speaks, his words don’t form a question. “Seth Baxter.”
“Yeah?”
“Angie broke up with him almost a year ago. Turns out he was a neo-nazi and all around piece of shit.”
“Wonderful.” He can’t say he’s surprised.
“He’s never taken no as answer. She hasn’t admitted to him doing anything to her but the guy is a problem. She’d had me there when she broke the news to him.”
“Did he act out then?”
“Nothing I could book him for.”
Peter nods, silent. He doesn’t blame Mark for entertaining that possibility. Encountering Baxter had felt like coming into contact with an oil slick. There was a residue left behind that just wouldn’t wash out with soap.
He leaves the detective alone to refill the next table’s mugs. Strahm still hasn’t broached the topic of Jigsaw to Mark. He hasn’t brought it up again to Lindsey either because he knows what she will say. Peter has found himself unable to muster up the will to confront the broad man in the fear that he might be right. In the daylight hours, it seems a ridiculous notion. Peter knows it’s possible. Time and time again, he’s seen the worst people put on the right masks to become loving family members, respectable members of their communities: the kind of people that would give the shirt off their own backs for a stranger.
Even the worst dregs of humanity have human moments. It’s what makes them so dangerous. It used to be his job to chisel away at the masks—to pull the shell off the snail and leave its innards manged and exposed to the naked eye. It’s not his duty anymore. He runs a diner with his best and only friend. He need to leave it alone. He’s no longer Special Agent Peter Strahm. That man lost his head, took on too much water and drowned.
Peter wants to believe that a better person left the building after turning in his badge. He knows one didn’t. There’s still something twisted and barely lying dormant inside of him, nestled between the cathedral of his ribs. It takes one monster to catch another.
───※ ·❆· ※───
The overhead bell clatters against the glass not even half an hour before closing. Strahm has already seen Perez out of the door. She had left early for a date that she’s shyly mentioned to him a couple of times over the course of the week. He knows it must be serious because she’s been tight-lipped and anxiously bursting at the seams. Peter will be staying up late, as he does every night, phone close at hand until she texts to let him know she’s made it back to her apartment.
“We’re closed,” he says.
Creaking footsteps cross the diner with no response from the intruder, and, finally, Peter looks up from the glasses he’s stocking below the counter. Irritation prickles at his skin. He’s half expecting to see Seth Baxter waiting for him when he stands up.
It’s Mark. The detective has dressed down for the late hour. It’s strange to see him without his blazer or his tie. Distractedly, the sleeves of the man’s dress shirt are rolled up to expose his large forearms. Strahm makes sure to look somewhere near Mark’s hairline.
“It’s you.”
“In the flesh, Peter,” the detective responds, smile across his lips.
“I’m curious as to why you’re here. Again.”
He watches as Mark settles himself onto a stool. The broad man rests his arms on the counter and leans over to encroach into Peter’s space. The retired FBI agent feels a little lightheaded when he realizes the position is only serving to highlight Mark’s chest through the open shirt collar. There’s honest to God cleavage. Ripping his traitorous eyes away from the scar snaking between Hoffman’s breasts, he meets his gaze and realizes that the detective looks tired.
“Angie had a date tonight, left me high and dry so I thought I’d come see you. Where’s Lindsey?”
“Out.” He kneels and lines the last few glasses up on the shelf and out of the drying crate. “Kitchen’s cold. I’m not turning the grill back on for you.”
“I’m sure you can figure something out for me, Pete. I’m hungry enough that I’ll eat anything you make me. You know how easy I can be.”
“Too easy,” he mutters. Mark just laughs, having heard him. “Fine, I don’t want to hear you complain.”
“Thank you, honey. You’re so good to me.”
A sigh and then he’s picking up the dish rack to take it back to the kitchen instead of throwing it at the seated man. Once in the back, he slots it in the nook beside the three-chamber sink before opening the door to vertical warmer and pulling out the two pans that have been resting on the racks. He shuts the machine off. It will be turned on again in the morning.
Largely using ingredients he’d be throwing out tonight anyway, he makes himself a sandwich with pot roast. He makes a second one for Mark. Both of them are plated with a side of macaroni destined for either his fridge at home or the trash can. The detective’s presence at the counter saves Strahm from having the hassle of taking home the leftovers.
Finished, he carries both plates out to the dining room. He bypasses the counter entirely to set the plates down on opposite ends of a small table. Before he sits down, he checks his watch. It’s a few minutes after closing time. He crosses the room to lock the door and flip the sign to closed. He draws the blinds on his way back to the table.
Hoffman is still. The weight of his eyes feels like a hand on the back of Strahm’s neck. It’s making his skin crawl. All too aware of the other man, he pulls out a chair with a screech of wood on wood and takes a seat facing the main room, back to the wall. He doesn’t verbally invite Mark, but he hears the shift of fabric and the sound of footsteps and then he is joined at the table.
“Didn’t feel like the stool?”
“No, don’t like having my back to the place.”
There’s a small grunt from the detective. “Were you a lawman?”
“FBI,” he says. Maybe Mark isn’t as stupid as he looks.
“Mmm, that would explain it. Were you good at your job, Special Agent?”
“Good enough.” For once, he doesn’t rise for the bait.
Peter toys with the fork in his hand, eyes on the man seated across from him. He watches closely, perhaps too closely as Mark slides his thick fingers under the sandwich and lifts it, cradled almost, to his mouth for a bite. Juice immediately spills free, running over Mark’s lips and liberally coating them in a filthy shine. He reaches for a napkin, but Peter’s hand is there first. Hoffman’s fingers skate over the back of his hand, thwarted. Peter receives a hard, considering look. There’s a dark gleam in the blue depths.
In an a long moment that reminds him of the morning the two of them had met, neither of them break their eye contact as Mark exaggeratedly licks his lips. Peter digs his fingers of his free hand into the meat of his thigh, hanging on for any glimmer of control while the other man sucks his own bottom lip into his mouth and releases it with a wet pop. He’s headspinningly hard in that instant, throbbing in his pants. He nearly curls over as if weathering a blow. Very nearly, he almost takes his hand off the napkin dispenser to press his palm against his crotch to relieve the pressure. Instead, he clamps down on the object harder, knuckles going white in the dim light.
With his dignity dangling on a thin line, he’s relieved that the table blocks Mark’s view. He’s struggling to stay in his seat. He wants to do something rash, destructive, transformative. His instincts are scrambled.
His own plate remains untouched as Mark takes another bite. The chewing is accompanied by a pleased hum, almost a lewd moan to Strahm’s ears.
“How… how does it taste?” He feels winded, out of breath.
Mark stops with the sandwich to his lips. He lowers it without taking another bite after swallowing. “Are you some kind of pervert?” he asks, seeming genuinely curious.
Strahm feels the last of his blood drain from his face.
“You’re one to talk,” he snaps. His tone does little else but highlight how defensive he’s feeling. Mark’s eyebrows raise. He’s got that smug look to him that makes Peter want to grab him by his shirt and smear his face against the floor until it worn down to the bone.
“Am I?” Mark is smiling now. “How do you figure?”
“You parade around looking like” he gestures in a broad sweep of his hand at the detective, “that.”
“Like what?”
“You know.”
“I don’t think I do.” He has to be being purposely obtuse. Strahm doesn’t appreciate it.
The blood is starting to rise back up, he can feel himself starting to flush as he responds, “Like you’re begging for a scrap of attention. Like you’re just a whore with a gaping mouth waiting for someone to come along and fill it for you.”
Despite the crudeness of his words, Mark doesn’t look offended. He sets the sandwich down on his plate. With his fingers damp with the meat’s juices, he nudges Strahm’s hand out of the way to finally claim a napkin to wipe the mess away from his digits. Fingers clean, the other man pushes his plate across to him. It bumps against his with the sharp sound of ceramic against ceramic. He stands up, and for a critical moment, Peter thinks he’s made an error and the other man is going to deck him where he sits.
Violence doesn’t come. Peter is left shaken when Mark comes around to his side of the table and kneels, knees to the floor. The detective’s polished shoes squeak against the wood. He can see the way the bulk of Mark’s thighs strain against the confinement of his slacks.
“What…?” It comes out as a gasp. His lungs feel too compressed to draw in any air.
As a response, Mark shifts closer. Under encouragement from the detective's hands, Peter turns, letting the man rest his bulk between his spread knees. Hoffman’s eyes skate over his erection. The only acknowledgment he gives it is an impossibly more satisfied look as he meets Strahm’s gaze steadily.
“You said I wanted a full mouth, Peter. So fill it.” he says with a nod to the table.
Unable to look away, he watches Mark part his lips and wait. The detective’s mouth gleams wetly, salivating for what Peter is going to give him. He can see the moisture pooling in the space underneath his tongue, threatening to overflow the corners of his lips even as Peter’s own mouth goes devastatingly dry.
The retired FBI agent gropes blindly for Mark’s plate. He ends up offering the kneeling man a handful of macaroni and cheese. He is forced to put it into Mark’s mouth when he doesn’t reach for it with his own hands. The pads of Peter’s fingers brush over Mark’s tongue.
Pulse pounding, he gathers up another mouthful’s worth. He brings it to the other man’s mouth, pushes it inside and past those plump lips when, again, he doesn’t take it directly. Mark’s jaw is slack. He’s completely pliant, welcoming the intrusion of Strahm’s fingers. He chews and swallows when Peter withdraws.
He feeds him mouthful after mouthful. He takes from his own plate when he runs out of noodles on Mark’s. Slipping the last of it into Hoffman’s mouth, he looks at the mess he’s made. He gathers the smear of sauce and cheese off the detective’s bottom lip and feeds him that too. That simple motion brings curiosity with it. He slides his fingers into Mark’s mouth, so deep that the knuckles of his ring finger and pinky collide with the other man’s chin.
Mark swallows around them. The sudden, clenching heat makes him groan. His dick twitches in his jeans. Mark’s pupils are blown, and Peter doesn’t miss the way the other man’s hand clenches on his wide thigh at hearing the noise that Peter had let slip from his throat.
Again, he swallows around Peter’s fingers. This time, the action is accompanied by his teeth just lightly biting down on the digits encased between his lips, just testing the skin. There’s a pinch and he’s biting harder, properly digging his teeth in.
Peter’s free hand, the one adorned with a reminder of his failed marriages, shoots out. He presses it against Mark’s right cheek. The skin is smooth and unmarred underneath his palm. He doesn’t push Mark away. Strahm doesn’t want to stop him, not really. There’s a part of him not so far under the surface that wants the detective to sever the fingers between his teeth, to consume of Peter himself just has he had of the meal he had prepared for him.
Mark lets up and allows Peter to ease his fingers out just enough to thrust them back in. Strahm is panting, a ragged sound in the quiet of the diner. With each thrust of his fingers into the detective’s mouth, he imagines that it is his cock instead that’s rubbing back and forth over Mark’s eager tongue. His fingertips collide with the other man’s hard palate over and over again. He loses himself in the motion enough that Mark’s hand being placed on his thigh jolts him back into the moment.
The detective is drooling freely around his fingers. His chin is wet with his own saliva. It strings and drips, soaking the front of his shirt. The silk material is marked with darker patches, almost as if Strahm had placed his own mouth against the fabric and sucked at Mark’s chest and stomach through it. He looks debauched this way, used. His lips are swollen and pink.
As he observes Mark like a case file, he can’t help but notice that the other man’s slacks are straining over more than just his thighs. Peter can see the clear outline of his dick. He can almost swear the black fabric is somehow darker near the head of it. Mark is wet.
Wet for me, he thinks, nonsensical. He sinks his teeth into the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood to keep the moan from escaping his mouth.
Extracting his fingers, he grips the edge of the table as Mark’s other hand hooks under Peter’s thigh. He spreads his legs wider to give the other man more access. Mark shuffles closer. He pulls Peter’s leg over his shoulder, spreading him open until he feels too vulnerable, too exposed.
His hands go to Strahm’s belt buckle, Peter tangles his hand in Mark’s hair, dampening the man’s locks with his own saliva. With as much protest as Peter himself had given, the leather of his belt easily slips free of the buckle. Hoffman’s fingers skate over the front of his jeans, seeking to undo the fastenings.
Even though the denim, Strahm can feel the heat of the detective’s breath on his dick. His cock twitches, almost as if it’s trying to get to the other man’s mouth. He feels both steadied and thrown off balance by the hand that Mark puts on his waist. He can barely think over the sound of his heart hammering in his ears. The drum beat of it drowns out the anxiety over being touched in such an intimate way. This man is going to be the death of him. He’s never been so hard in his fucking life.
A phone rings. Loud.
Face suddenly grim, Mark draws back. Peter’s hand slips free of the detective’s hair and he sags back in his chair. He busies himself with remembering how to breathe while Hoffman pulls his phone out from the pocket of his slacks. He flips it open and presses the button to accept the call.
“Detective Hoffman speaking.” His voice has a rough edge to it—the only indication that Strahm had been all but fucking his mouth with his fingers.
Choosing to look anywhere else but at Mark, his eyes resolutely lock onto the shelves behind the counter. He feels the shorter man slide his leg off his shoulder. It’s unsettlingly tender, the way Hoffman eases Strahm’s foot to the floor.
“Yeah… alright.” Peter can’t make out the voice on the other end of the line. “I’ll be there. Don’t mess with any unsecured doors this time, yeah?”
Peter hears the snap of the device being closed and glances at Hoffman. The man gets to his feet with a wince but with more spryness than Strahm himself would have been capable of under normal circumstances.
“Duty calls,” he says, slipping the phone back into his pocket and withdrawing his wallet.
Alarmed, he reaches out and stops him. “Don’t. The food was on the house.”
Mark gives him a look that Peter can’t quite read before closing his billfold and tucking it away. Hoffman’s erection is rapidly flagging. Whatever situation he was called about must be one hell of a mood killer. Meanwhile, Strahm can’t summon any of the blood back to his brain.
He nearly chokes on nothing when Mark’s fingers cup his cheek and he draws a thumb down over the scar mimicking an age line. He has to close his eyes.
“Goodnight, Pete.” The roughness that Strahm put there drags the nickname out into something obscene.
“’Night.” The retired agent manages.
And with that, Mark takes those characteristically stiff strides to the door, unlocks it, and slips through it. The bell jangles in his wake. He leaves Strahm alone and close to shivering in the absence of his warmth.
Like a man rising from a trance, he gets to his feet and locks the door behind the detective. His open belt clatters. The buckle collides with his thigh on every step, a reminder of what almost was. He leaves the plates on the table in favor of ducking into the diner’s single occupant bathroom. Out of habit, he locks the door. He doesn’t look at himself in the mirror. He doesn’t want to see the creature he is in this moment. He chooses, instead, to press his forehead against the wall. He shuts his eyes.
Projected against the darkness of his eyelids, he imagines Mark on his knees again. He plays out the scene they had nearly had without the interruption that he is almost thankful for. While he thinks about Mark undoing his pants and taking Strahm’s cock out, he frees himself from the confines of his jeans and takes himself in hand. His dry palm is a far cry from the detective’s saliva-slick mouth.
Still, he strips his cock hard and fast. Mark had already had him on the brink of shamefully cumming in his pants. It’s not long before he’s spilling over his knuckles in hot spurts.
Wrung out and with his legs shaking, he lets go of his softening dick and fumbles for the paper towel dispenser. He wipes his hand off before tucking himself back into his pants and dropping onto the toilet toilet lid, exhausted. It feels like he had ran a marathon. He is going to have a heart attack in this bathroom and Lindsey is going to have to call for a morgue transport after she finds him in the morning.
“Fuck,” he says aloud. Revulsion has stuck its hand in him now that the fog of arousal has fled his body, and it’s rooting around elbow deep in his guts.
He gets to his feet. He washes his hands and still doesn’t meet his eyes in the mirror while he straightens himself up. This might not be the most shameful thing he’s ever done, but it’s higher on the list than he would like. He can gnaw on it while he works. He’s got a diner to clean
───※ ·❆· ※───
Morning greets Strahm with all the grace of a punch to the jaw. He opens his eyes and squints against the light glaring at him through his windshield. He rubs both hands over his face. The brief shade they provide is a soothing balm to his pounding head. The ache radiating through his body like a missing tooth is a vivid reminder of last night.
He had been worked into too much of a shame-fueled frenzy to give the establishment the usual amount of care. No, he’d been on his hands and knees scrubbing the grout in the kitchen with a hard bristled brush until his hands were raw and he was satisfied surgery could be performed on the tile with no risk of infection. It not been the only task that he’d taken upon himself. He had spent so long handling his reaction to the unplanned intimacy that he had not bothered to go back to his rental. He had chosen to sleep in his car instead.
A glance at his watch reveals that he had woken up just after his usual alarm time. Peter drags himself out of his vehicle just as Lindsey’s yellow Ranger pulls into the lot and parks in the space beside his Vic.
“Good morning.” She looks cheerful, vibrant even.
“’Morning.” He grits out. His voice is so rough with sleep that it might as well have been his throat that was getting used last night.
“You look like shit.”
The only answer he gives her is a grunt. He nearly stumbles on the curb when he follows her to the front door.
“No, seriously. What happened?”
“Late night. Got wrapped up in cleaning.” It’s technically the truth. He doesn’t particularly want to confess that he almost fucked Mark and proved his co-owner right. Peter has never been one for losing, no matter the size of the stakes.
Sighing, Lindsey gets her key in the lock. She’s not buying it as being the whole story. If she were blind enough to just accept whatever bullshit he said to her, they never would have been able to be partners for so long.
“How did your date go?” he asks, heading her off before she can corner him in the back for an interrogation. He had gotten her text late last night, assuring him that she hadn’t been murdered in the street and was about go to bed.
Her face splits into a smile. “It went really, really well. She let me walk her to the door.”
“That’s great, Linds.” Her obvious joy manages to drag a returning smile out of him.
He listens to her chatter at him while they settle into their normal morning routine. She lets him get away with muttered responses and acknowledging hums, content to carry the interactions. It’s business as usual with the only the glaring absence of Mark and Angelina.
The sibling duo arrives after the breakfast rush has trickled into maintenance. Right away, Strahm notices that Hoffman looks as tired as he, himself, feels. There’s a serious set to his mouth and his movements are sluggish. They bypass their usual table on account of it being occupied and take up residence on stools at the counter.
“Just coffee for me.” Mark tells him when he silently stares at him in wait for the detective's order.
He feels like last night is written all over his face. If the both of them weren’t so tired, he’s sure some words would be getting thrown around. Unable to do more than exist, he turns to Angie, silently prompting her as well.
“Orange juice and one of those muffins, please,” she says. Like Lindsey, she’s all but glowing.
Nothing for him to cook. It’s just as well. Strahm is feeling he might just face-plant on the cooking surface. With any luck, he can take another nap in his car until Lindsey needs him for lunch support. With the distant sensation of moving through molasses, he pours Mark and Angie their drinks. He nearly knocks over Angelina’s glass when he tries to slide her muffin in front of her.
“Are you okay? I thought Marcus over here was half dead, but I think you got him beat.”
“I’ve always been a winner,” is Peter’s stab at levity.
He ignores Hoffman’s stifled scoff and drags out a notepad. Checking with the summary of items he’d marked as low in the dry storage last night, he writes down everything that he’s going to have to order tomorrow. Mark seems content to watch him while he drinks his coffee. Lindsey and Angelina chatter back and forth as his partner comes and goes. He tunes them out.
Blinking hard, he tries to focus his eyes on the paper in front of him. It’s threatening to triplicate. He sets down his pen and squeezes the bridge of his nose, hard. He needs to lay down.
There’s an explosion like a gunshot.
Peter feels a burning sensation race across the back of his shoulder and down his side. Adrenaline floods his system, burning away the exhaustion. He whips around in time to see Lindsey stumbling back from the coffee machine’s hot water spigot. Her hands are grasping at her face and she’s making noises he has never heard from her before—never thought he would hear. It’s the low, desperate whines of an injured animal.
Immediately, he reaches for her. Peter takes her into his arms, holding her securely against his chest where she curls into him in the blind trust that he can protect her, that he can keep her safe. She’s coughing, trembling. Even has she goes limp from shock, he supports her. She’s his partner and the closest thing he would dare call family.
There are shards of broken glass and hot water everywhere. Right away, it’s clear that a measuring cup had exploded. Hot water into a room temperature glass vessel had caused a rapid expansion. Something that they’d both done more than they should had finally caught up to them.
Mark is right next to him with his sister on his heels. Together, the two men guide Lindsey away from behind the counter and to a clear patch of floor. The detective strips off his blazer and folds it into a makeshift pillow for Strahm’s co-owner as Peter lowers her to the wood. Acid claws at his throat.
“Angie, call for an ambulance.” Mark’s voice is calm, lapping against the edges of Peter’s mind past the ringing in his ears.
The only thing he can focus on is Lindsey. His hands are shaking as he carefully tries to smooth her hair away from her face.
“Okay, c’mon, Shallow breaths. Okay? Stay with me.” He can’t hide the tremor in his voice. There’s so much blood seeping around the glass embedded in her face and neck. He has only seem this amount at crime scenes.
Lindsey reaches up and grabs weakly at his face. Her fingers hook briefly in the collar of his shirt. Peter catches her hand and squeezes it as much to reassure her as himself.
“Pete,” she whines. Tears are leaking from the corners of her eyes.
“I’m here. I’m here, Lindsey. You’re gonna be fine, alright? You’re gonna be fine.” Maybe if he repeats it enough times, it’ll be true.
They had some close calls during their time in the FBI but it was all threats that he could negate. He would have put down any number of perps to ensure her safety. He would have ripped apart the world for her. But this… this was just an accident. He couldn’t protect her from this kind of thing.
He’s unaware of the panicked, half breathes that seize in his chest until Mark places his hand on his back. Peter doesn’t shrug it off. In the background, he can hear Angie on the phone. Her voice is wobbly, distorted through sobs.
After the paramedics arrive, Hoffman has to hold him back when Lindsey lets out a pained yelp from being moved onto the stretcher. She’s never been one to vocalize pain and it’s killing him to hear her.
“Easy… Easy, Peter.” Mark’s voice rumbles against him from where the detective has him held against the expanse of his chest.
Dimly, he realizes that Angelina has a grip on her brother’s arm. She has to be squeezing enough to hurt. Her knuckles are pale. He wonders at why she’s so torn up his partner and then it clicks. Mark had said Angelina had left him alone to go on a date last night. Lindsey had done the same to him. The two women had been together while he and Hoffman were doing whatever fucked up dance they’d been engaged in.
Strahm pushes out of the detective’s hold. He nearly collapses without the support he’d never admit he needed. It’s a smothering weight that he could be crushed under if he let it.
“Everybody out. Show’s over.” Peter calls as soon as Lindsey is wheeled out the door. “We’re closed. Meals are on the house today.”
A few people stand up, not enough. Mark speaks, his voice more vicious than Strahm’s. “You heard him. Have some respect and get the fuck out.”
It works. The customers pick up the pace and soon the diner is empty aside from them.
In daze, Peter steps into the kitchen and turns off the cook-top. He grabs his jacket and his keys from the back. The door hits him hard in the elbow. He nearly slips on the mixture of glass and cooling water. Mark’s hand is there to steady him. The other man plucks the keys from Peter’s grasp before steering both him and Angie across the diner and to the door. Peter lets himself be nudged out onto the step with Mark’s sister while the broad man flips the sign around and locks up for him.
“This way,” he says, leading them both to his car.
Numbly, he obeys as Mark has the two of them clamor into the back seat while he settles behind the wheel. He feels Angelina take his hand in hers. He lets her, just has he had let her brother touch him. Their fingers twist and grip onto each other until their joint hands make up one shared form. All he can see playing on repeat in his mind is the scared look on his partner’s bloody face.
He can’t tell which one of them is shaking. Is is Angie? Is it him? Is it the both of them?
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#saw#saw franchise#saw movies#hoffstrahm#coffinshipping#mark hoffman x peter strahm#hoffstrahm fanfic#peter strahm#mark hoffman#saw fanfic#.my posts#.my work#.my fanfics
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Hi, hope you're doing well! I have a few questions about the ROs food preferences. Also Chris and jade if you want to.
Sweet or savory, or both?
2. Do they like spicy food, and how spicy do they like it?
3. What is their favorite meal/snack? Besides Mc ofcourse.
Also me here thinking about Mc and Cam sneaking a ton of chili powder into Chris and Jades food and watching their tongues catch fire. 😈
I'm doing well anon thanks! Below the cut ~
❤️ Cam - He is a food lover so he enjoys sweet and savory. Cam also likes spicy food, the hotter the better in his opinion. His favorite meal has less to do with the food and more to do with the experience. Cam and MC make homemade pizzas together quite often. Because of that, pizza is his favorite. When it comes to snacks, Cam isn't picky.
💙 G - They prefer savory, and they like spicy food but it's not the best for their digestive system so they tend to go a grade above mild. G has a few favorite meals and is actually a good cook. Currently, their favorite is Jajangmyeon and yangnyeom (seasoned chicken). Snack wise, G's favorite snack is Kkwabaegi (a Korean donut). You will find them making them from time to time, and happily eating them.
💚 Kara - She like's sweet over savory but will eat both. Kara can't really handle spicy food but enjoys eating it. Tough battle for her, her spice level is mild. Kara is good at baking, not so much at cooking. Her favorite food is quesadillas, mainly chicken. Her favorite snack is ice-cream. There is a reason I use a green heart for Kara, it could possibly be due to her love for mint chocolate chip.
💛 M - They like both. M isn't too picky when it comes to food especially since when they remember to eat is late at night when everything is closed. M likes spicy food, they prefer it to be hot, and enjoy that tingling sensation they get after eating it. M's favorite meal is General Tso's Chicken, the spicy the better in their opinion. Snack wise M loves Melon Pan. They can, and will make it for people.
💜 Isaac - They prefer savory over sweet. They enjoy spice though choose to treat spicy food like a treat. Their spice level is mild/hot. Isaac has one favorite dish, one their mom used to make. Now Isaac's favorite dish (only because their mother is no longer alive), is a stromboli. Isaac's favorite snack is any type of donuts.
🖤 Ardent - He prefers savory, though his niece will feed him treats from time to time. Ardent can handle spice but just doesn't really choose to eat it. If he had to choose he would go with a mild spice level. He has a few recipes up his sleeve, though his favorite meal is Souvlaki (gyros), he can and will make them and possibly get someone else to help as well. His favorite snack is Baklava (he has a killer recipe for it.)
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melda tâe, pray tell: what are the ojv!style/starsev's favorite foods? <3
HELLO MELMË!!! Oooo this is such a fun ask ilysm and I love any excuse to be Incredibly Annoying abt the OrangeJuiceVerse so YEP HERE WE GO!!!
Kyle- Kyle SO has a sweet tooth!!! (I love that that’s a universal Kyle hc btw) that boy is THERE for any baked goods deadass even those shitty gas station packaged muffins (Stan is scribbling out the nutritional information (or as he calls it, Food Lore, well into their 30s)) and Kyle def consumes anything sugary. As for actual real food, he likes Italian a lot which works very well bc pasta is a general hit w everyone. Favorite fast food place is subway and he ALWAYS rearranges the sandwich components to make sure the distribution is right (he claims he doesn’t have obsessive compulsive tendencies) (he does) so this guy is THE reason the ojv is called the ojv, his favorite beverage is orange juice with seven ice cubes and a pinch of salt bc he’s picky even when he claims to not be, he’s also a red wine enjoyer
STAN!!! Oh my god he and Cartman and Kenny are bottomless pits!!! Stan is a big boi and he’s packing away everything he eats bc 1) he hates waste, and 2) he’s just hungry. BUT he’s really more of a savory guy. Veggie king, ofc, and he’s at every fast food place in town ordering any vegetarian option, ALSO!!! This man LOVES spicy food but his stomach doesn’t. He’ll get a couple crunchwraps sub refried beans and slather that shit in Diablo sauce, but there’s a pretty good chance he’s gonna be nauseous a few hours later. Also he loves Kyle’s cooking!!! Bc Ky likes to cook when he’s stressed and Stan likes Kyle, and Kyle makes this really kickass homemade bread (jalapeño cheese bread oh my god I really want some now) Stan is also SO bad at drinking water but he is in fact a soda enjoyer. Miller Lite and the cheapest vodka known to man (before he stopped drinking) are a staple, also he frequents the local smoothie king and gets a chocolate hulk. For most of their life style has been ordering an olive and pineapple pizza. Stan always dips it in extra marinara.
Tweek- he is seriously just a snacker. Like Girl Dinner has nothing on Tweek Dinner. His meals look like a Charlie Brown thanksgiving. If he even remembers food is a thing. But like Craig will come home and be like “what do u want for dinner” and Tweek’s like “oh I ate a whole jar of pickles” the amount of half eaten granola bars in that house smh. BUT he can decimate so much garlic bread. A very big lemonade fan.
Craig! He’ll eat whatever, nonchalant KING unless!!!! He’s having a bad day and is already on the cusp of a meltdown. If he’s overstimulated it’s a sprite and an uncrustable. A grape uncrustable. Also I just feel like he likes seafood? I cannot explain why, but he does. Also he’s really good about hydration, he likes routine and he has one of those bottles w the time markers lmao. And he’s weirdly pretentious abt craft beers like when he and Kyle take their lil excursions to their spot he’s drinking an ipa that’s lowkey gross but then he’s just shrugging at Kyle and being all “idk the citrus hits in the aftertaste” like an asshole.
KENNY ok Kenny is also not picky in the slightest, how could he be with how he grew up, but I feel like he’s especially fond of easy meals like casseroles, frozen pizza, that kind of stuff. When he starts actually making a stable living off his art he hits up ALL the local food trucks and small businesses and broadens his food knowledge, and he’s keeping the smaller struggling businesses going just by his support. He is another example of ojv losers not drinking enough water, thinks Mountain Dew counts, literally he would’ve developed scurvy in college if left to his own devices. SMH ily kenneth also he and Stan have both thrown up bc they tried to one up each other doing shots of hot sauce
Marj my queen! She, like Kyle, likes sugar, if the homies are going to a diner she’s getting pancakes, and she takes her coffee ALL dressed up. Also kenny is the grillmaster and Marj is making the BEST sides for the bbq!!! Omg she loves her some pasta salad and a lil shrimp shishkabab moment like put this girl on the cover of a southern living magazine with her sweet iced tea (she makes the best sweet tea) marj my goddess pls quit causing problems on the internet and just use ur hospitality degree to run a b&b and make the best biscuits and gravy ever
Cartman. Bruh. Eric Cartman. He has THE most expensive taste known to man when he’s older but until he gets into the Rich People scene he doesn’t really care about what he’s eating or if it’s of good quality. In college he dragged the m5 to some shitty steakhouse bc he heard it was a good deal, and also bc he was mad at Stan for belting As Long As You’re Mine from Wicked and he knew Stan wouldn’t have any food options there lmfao that asshole (he did have to put a dollar in the Fuckwad Jar). He will also eat the weirdest combination of things. Who is putting whipped cream and chocolate syrup on fried chicken? This man. He is a Diet Coke enjoyer lmfao also he drinks martinis with olives bc “it makes me look sexy and kewl” he doesn’t like olives btw he’s just an asshole
I HAD TOO MUCH FUN WITH THIS!!! The ask is always open for ANY of my AU’s or if ur just bored or want fic recs I’m a huge loser and my sp obsession is ever ridiculous.
#asks#i had so much fun#NINAAAAA#everyone say thank you#south park#headcanon#OrangeJuiceVerse#kyle broflovski#stan marsh#tweek tweak#craig tucker#kenny mccormick#marjorine stotch#eric cartman
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Future Generation Predictions 
(Things I think the future young ppl will think)
They will think selfie museums are lame (they’re all about “living in the moment” and see selfie museums as “too fake”)
Kinda like how it is uncool for ppl my age to drink cow milk (in favor of almond and oat milk), I think the next generation will think coffee in general is lame
^^ because of this, they’re will be a big rise in tea popularity in the United States. Cute and trendy tea shops will be everywhere
Soda will also hit an all time low in popularity, the next generation will be pretty anti-caffeine in general (but, for whatever reason, this won’t apply to tea)
They’ll be more alcohol-conscious (not by much tho)
Remember how bacon was super trendy for a moment? And then it was kale? My suddenly-trendy-but-kinda-random food pick is figs! Fig candy, fig juice, fig shakes, fig burgers, figs on pizza…
Astrology completely goes mainstream (again) and even the ppl who claim to hate it find themselves participating for social reasons (there will also be a number 1 hit song about astrology)
They will be more cash-less. There will be a small but vocal number of young people who claim they’ve never seen anything above a $20 bill in their life (some will even claim to have never seen physical money at all)
Country (music) has a big mainstream moment
Podcasts fall out of fashion and become associated with “old people”
The anti-marriage movement really grows legs and hits the mainstream. This is the cause of a conservative moral panic (despite this, most ppl will still get married)
This one’s pretty obvious, but there will be more vegans and vegetarians than ever. Things like vegan burgers will become more widely available at fast food spots, but I think the newer generation is instead going to favor cuisines that are already easy to make meat-less, like Indian and Mediterranean food (mmm, falafel)
Feel like I should put something climate-related in here, but all I can think of is something similar to the panic around straws that happened a little before the pandemic
Fashion trends: checkerboard print (which many ppl my age associate with the “clout goggles” era of 2016) will make a big comeback
Color trend prediction: earth tones, and red for some reason
Flower trend: eucalyptus in showers will be more commonplace
Worrying about if you’re getting enough electrolytes will become a “thing”
Books and especially magazines will become popular again as the new generation seeks to have a “physical experience” away from the digital world
^^for similar reasons the metaverse/virtual reality will continue to struggle to become as popular as it desperately wants to be
The sins of the chocolate industry will become more widely known, and ppl will be more chocolate conscious
Final prediction, and it’s another food related one: homemade mac and cheese will be SUPER popular. Everyone will want some homemade mac and cheese. People will post their “best mac and cheese recipe” and get clowned on if it doesn’t look good or deviates from the expectation in any way. The fact that this is pretty much already a “thing” in the Black community only makes me more confident that this will happen in the mainstream
#note that when I say future generation I mean pp who are in pre-k rn#also this mainly pertains to the US bc I live here lol#prediction#list#gen alpha#culture#opinion#writing
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8. Pineapple Ham Pizza
Hello, every birdie. Today is a recipe that I was a little bit afraid of, because of the fact that I am a little bit afraid of yeast. But I wanted to make dinner for my parents on their 41st wedding anniversary. And because we were doing a luau-themed party, we had to go with a controversial topping, Pineapple.
I knew that mom and dad liked pineapple on pizza so it wasn’t like one of them liked it and the other hated it.
This was the first time I had ever really worked with yeast by myself. I have helped my mom in the past make Runzas. Which is a cabbage, hamburger inside of a homemade yeast roll.
However, I did not make this pizza by myself. My younger brother, David, helped me out. He was also learning for the first time how to make the pizza crust.
The recipe that we are going to be following is the Betty Crocker Cookbook. The measurements and the recipe itself will be in the description down below.
You will want to preheat your oven to 475℉. And grease two rounds or if you are doubling it as we did, we greased 2 round pizza pans and 2 baking pans.
The ingredients that you will need are:
Flour
Sugar
Salt
Yeast
Olive or vegetable oil
Warm water
In a large bowl, you are going to mix together your flour, sugar, salt, and yeast.
Next, add 3 tablespoons of oil and water. Beat with an electric mixer on medium speed for about 3 minutes. Scraping the bowl frequently.
Stir in enough of the remaining flour until the dough is soft and leaves the side of the bowl. Being that this was my first time making pizza crust, I did have to have my mom show me how the pizza crust was supposed to look. My first attempt was good, but it didn’t have enough flour and it was a little gritty. Thankfully I didn’t have to start all over. I just put the pizza crust back in the bowl and added a little bit more flour.
While the crust was being shaped onto the pans, we made the toppings. We had a bbq sauce. Deli ham slices, and of course the pineapple. I know that some of you are disgusted because I put pineapple on my pizza. And for that I am sorry.
We cooked the pizzas in the oven, for 10 minutes on one rack. And then 10 minutes on the other rack. And no I wasn’t just doing 2 pizzas in the oven at a time. I put 2 pizza’s on the top rack and 2 pizza’s on the bottom rack.
This recipe was really easy. And I was glad that my mom was able to show me how it was supposed to look. Because that is how I learn the best. By watching someone, and by working with my hands. That is how I learned how to make my mom’s Sugar Cookies. I would watch her and help her. So that when I am an adult I almost have that recipe memorized (which is crazy to think about because sometimes I can’t even remember what I had for breakfast the day before).
This recipe was also really fun because it helped me gain a memory with David. We were just both new to this whole pizza-making business and we were saying that if we messed it up then it was going to be both of our faults. And on the other hand, if it succeeded then it was going to be because of both of our hard work.
I hope that you liked this recipe. I had so much fun with this simple little recipe. And I am concerned about one of my fears. YEAST! I will eventually make a yeast beard, but it is scary. I applaud anyone who has attempted sourdough bread during quarantine. Because I am afraid of yeast bread, I am terrified of sourdough bread. Does this mean that I won’t eventually make yeast bread or sourdough bread? No, I will probably eventually make one. When I get enough courage. Feel free to check out the recipe in the description down below. See you in the next recipe. Thank you
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Hi nou nou, sorry for being like a whole day late I was questioningly busy yesterday and once I hit my bed it was lights out😞. But fucking lost IS good it’s like a enemies to lovers but whole time he like her and I love to see it in a fic, and the typos I probably won’t even notice because I’m just too lost in reading the whole thing. Also you didn’t write anything new? I could’ve sworn you had a new story out, I wouldn’t be surprised because I’ve been gone for so long. But anyway you might have room for improvement but that doesn’t erase the fact that you’re blessed!!!!! Because honestly I never send in ask about a story but this time something shifted in me and I couldn’t help myself, Take my compliments or I’ll make you!!!!!!!! 😡. I can’t remember what you asked me at the end of the other ask but I think it was what did I eat, and I ate cheeseburgers and fries, homemade. And a pickle. And then I watched silent voice for the first time and fell asleep halfway through. I’m sorry this ask is so long, but I’ll see you later!!
-👾
Lienii.... I might start crying at this point. 🥺 when I say your asks make my day, I mean it hehe. Fucking lost indeed has elements of enemies to lovers, cause it's Hyuka who distanced himself away from her since he felt himself longing for her hehe and the twisted fact that Y/n liked him only made it worse and he didn't interact with her much. That probably is why they seem like enemies at first, but they're just two people who love eachother. One couldn't confess because of uncertainty and other couldn't too, because of denial. Either way, they are together now!!
I wrote a new fic, two to three days ago. It's a Kai one again.
Okay okay, I will take your compliments haha. You're one of the few who compliment me so I'll absorb all of them.🤭
Silent Voice... honestly it's gut wrenching and too painful to watch, I watched it still. Why? I love pain. And yeah, even I slept right after I have watched it the first time hehe!
I want some junk too😭 It's been a long time since I had a pizza or fries. HOMEMADE?!?! OMG I WANNA TRY THEM HAHA I AM A HUGE JUNKIE
Don't apologize for sending me a long ask, I thrive off of long messages ( or asks, they make way too happy ) and I love it when I see a long ask in my inbox. And don't apologize for sending me replies late, you can send them whenever you're free.
#noulli answers!#noulli's 👾 anonym#also sorry for yapping about my fic#you didnt ask for it hehe😭 im too much of a yappef#anyways love you lienii <3#also can we be moots lienii? i just want you to be my moot >///<
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04/01/24
What a day! It was actually pretty okay, you know? Just a chill four-day Monday. But let me tell you, I was so drunk yesterday lol. I do not remember how I got into bed, just that T and me watched super boring movies. But at least T was excited for them, so whatever. Like I had hoped we didn´t talk about me letting him know I purged my food yesterday (probably also why I got so drunk) and I lost a bunch of weight.
I used to do this a few years ago a bit, that I would not eat the day and then get drunk and party and lose weight that way on the weekend. Sometimes I would binge on a small fry when I was drunk and still lost weight so I guess we´re back to that.
I miss being single a little bit now. I could just get drunk and not eat and get validation I desperately needed for my self-esteem from random guys. T doesn´t do that. He´ll tell me he thinks I´m not fat, but I know that's a lit. We never have sex anymore, he keeps telling me we will and in the end we don´t. Which is fine. I get it, I´m gross and fat and ugly lol. I also know that was an issue between him and his ex-wife K. K demanded T find her attractive being overweight and stuff and he didn´t and I understand it. Sometimes I wish T was fat, so I could feel better about myself (what an ugly desperate thought). But he is an 160 lbs of muscle and hot as fuck! There is a reason he got away with everything he did lol. When I think about it I know I´m better off married and I love T. To an extend it hurts sometimes. But right now I barely feel anything but anger at myself to get so fat and disgust and emptiness. I embrace the emptiness tho. It´s better than all the other overwhelming and exhausting emotions I tend to feel on the daily - thanks ADHD for that btw.
Sorry for going on and on and on. I don´t really have anyone to talk to since I moved in with T because we´re so far from everyone I know and in addition I wouldn´t want any of my real life friends to know how I´m doing and that I wish I had an eating disorder to finally lose weight and how I hate myself and my life lol. Wouldn´t want anyone to worry about me. I´m on the road to self-destruction, but it seems like a good kind. A kind that brings me closer to my goals.
I just don´t care anymore. Is that bad? I used to care and just was in pain. Now I dgaf anymore and the pain is gone. The idea of T cheating again? Whatever, ha can do what he wants as long as he provides from our family. He can´t hurt me worse than I hurt myself.
I am fantasizing about going to live with my best friend J in El Paso. I miss her so much and when I visited her a few weeks back and it felt so good! I guess I never lived with a person I really liked before (discounting living with T, but our relationship is so complicated and exhausting. I always have to be on edge to avoid topics that will stir shit up and I feel like he needs me to take care of him. J doesn´t need that, she is amazingly self sufficient). Maybe that wasn´t fair to say. I do really like T. Good god, I love him and married him and it´s not like he´s forcing me to live here lol. J and me are just really similar. A lot of the same trauma. I am so grateful I met her, she is like the sister and best friend I never had!
Sorry for using this as a diary. I just needed to get this out I think. It feels good to scream into the void, knowing none of the people involved will ever see this.
Oh btw. here´s my daily intake
It´s okay. I feel like I ate too much. Realistically I know it´s not a whole lot, but IDK. I feel like I should be eating less. I might have overestimated my dinner btw. T said he had like half of the portion, but I don´t believe him. I´d rather overestimate than underestimate.
I don´t really need the carrots I want to eat later, but I miss the crunch.
T and me made a food plan for this week:
Homemade pizza (I was surprised by how little kcal it had, so I´m making more lol. T loves pizza, so he´d never complain)
Couscous salad with carrots, celeriac, celery, parsnips, broccoli, spinach (?) and non fat-greek-yoghurt ( T wants some tuna with it, I´m not wholly convinced I want that too as of now) I´m kinda worried about the kcals of this.
Chicken breast with a spinach salad (spinach, carrots, parm, walnuts, olive oil, lemon) some breadsticks for T, he really liked the last ones I made.
Also baby C is laying at my feet and sleeping like a good boy! I love him so much, I never thought I could love an animal so much!! On that note, I´ll give him some more cuddles, have the carrots and then head to bed. T is already asleep, so maybe I´ll cuddle him a little bit too. He likes it a lot.
Good night peeps!
Todo tomorrow:
Grocery shopping
Send postcards T and me got for his fam on our trip to Italy
Donate blood
Make breadsticks
Make pizza dough
Make dinner
Wash the bed + Laundry
Sell K´s shit she left here
Look for jobs
#update#diary#weight loss#weight goals#weight management#i need to lose so much weight#i need to lose this weight#i wanna lose weight#thoughts#late night thoughts
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On Cooking
Nothing brings people together like food. Obviously we need it for basic survival but I would propose there is more too it than that. It could be the desire to connect, or maybe its that it lights up the pleasure centers in our brain. It's a craft that you can get good at and get a tasty treat at the end of. You can swap recipes with other people and discover the next magic spell. Could that be it? Is there an element of magic that we long for that cooking brings us? Why, in a world where we cook less and less are food shows becoming more popular? Michael Pollan contends that we have replaced traditional cooking with watching cooking shows. A poor substitute to be sure. Learning how to cook has to be one of the most rewarding hobbies one can enter in to. I would challenge everyone to try and start by perfecting one dish. Just one. Then another, and another.
I would even contend that you can teach almost all of school through food. You teach kids a valuable life skill, with a lesson they are more likely to remember and you get to eat something at the end. For example did you know that Baklava uses honey because they had not discovered sugar yet in the middle east? Or that the Sandwich was invited so an Earl could keep gambling? Chicken wings used to be used only for stock and were for decades considered the worst part of the chicken? That solves the history problem. You could even teach math through baking using ratios and measurement. As they say baking is science cooking is art. Teach science showing the chemical reactions of say yeast in warm water. There is a infinite amount of examples one could come up with.
It is a travesty that our modern American age has left so many young people without even a basic understanding of how to properly make a simple dish like Spaghetti. There are a few skills in life that I would consider force multipliers. A term I first heard Tim Ferris use. Meaning that it enhances all other aspects of your life. Things like weight training, meditation, reading are all force multipliers. I would put getting decent at cooking up there with a bullet. Crafting an fantastic dish is certainly as creative as say making a record or writing a book.
If you want to lose weight understanding how calories and carbs work will get you there. If you want to gain muscle, understand protein and carb interaction is vital. If you want to know why most gluten sensitivity is nonsense because you kneed dough to develop the gluten protein. You want a lot of gluten in say pizza dough and next to no gluten in a muffin for example. Even just to save tons of money. You can eat like a king for a fraction of the price of going out. Once you learn how to do it all you can even pre make everything in advance so all you have to do at the end of a long days work is reheat.
Maybe its because in our modern society our homes are divided with both parents working so there is no parent at home that can teach the kids this basic skill. Maybe in our fast food on every corner world we have just become too lazy. But I would challenge everyone to seek out the advice of Gordan Ramsey, Jamie Oliver, Alton Brown, and even Tim Ferris with the Four Hour Chef and learn some basics. I can't think of too many more rewarding journeys. Seeing your first loaf of homemade bread is not a feeling that can be bought on a dollar menu.
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How Can I Make A Perfect Pizza Dough From Scratch?
Are you tired of ordering pizza from your favorite restaurant and want to try making your own delicious pizza at home? Look no further! In this article, we will guide you through the step-by-step process of making the perfect pizza dough from scratch. Get ready to impress your family and friends with your homemade pizza skills!
Making pizza dough from scratch may seem intimidating, but with the right ingredients and techniques, you can achieve a dough that is flavorful, light, and perfectly textured. We will share with you some valuable tips and tricks that will elevate your pizza game to a whole new level.
Gathering Ingredients
Gathering Ingredients
When it comes to making the perfect pizza dough from scratch, the first step is gathering all the essential ingredients. To achieve that mouthwatering homemade pizza taste, you'll need the following:
- Flour: The foundation of any good dough, choose high-quality bread flour or all-purpose flour for a chewy and flavorful crust.
- Yeast: This tiny organism is responsible for the dough's rise. Use active dry yeast or instant yeast for best results.
- Water: The main hydration source for the dough. Make sure to use warm water, around 110°F (43°C), to activate the yeast.
- Salt: Enhances the flavor of the dough and helps regulate the fermentation process. Use kosher or sea salt for optimal taste.
- Olive oil: Adds richness and helps create a crispy crust. Opt for extra-virgin olive oil for its distinct flavor.
Once you have gathered all the ingredients, it's important to measure and prepare them correctly. Precision is key in achieving the perfect pizza dough. Use a kitchen scale to measure the flour accurately, as it can vary in density. When measuring the water, use a liquid measuring cup and ensure it's at the right temperature to activate the yeast properly. Don't forget to properly dissolve the yeast in the warm water before adding it to the dry ingredients.
Properly measuring and preparing the ingredients is the first step towards creating a delicious pizza dough. Remember, each ingredient plays a crucial role in the final taste and texture of your homemade pizza. So, take your time and gather everything you need, ensuring that you have the right quantities and follow the proper preparation techniques.
Mixing and Kneading
Mixing and kneading are crucial steps in the process of making perfect pizza dough from scratch. These techniques are essential for developing gluten, which gives the dough its elasticity and structure. By mastering the art of mixing and kneading, you can achieve a dough that is easy to work with and results in a deliciously chewy crust.
When it comes to mixing the dough, there are a few key points to keep in mind. First, it's important to properly measure and prepare your ingredients. Gather the essential ingredients for pizza dough, such as flour, yeast, water, salt, and oil. Measure them accurately, following the recipe guidelines, to ensure the right balance of flavors and textures.
Once you have your ingredients ready, you can begin the mixing process. The most common method is to mix the dry ingredients first and then gradually add the wet ingredients. This helps to evenly distribute the yeast, salt, and oil throughout the dough. You can use a stand mixer with a dough hook attachment or simply mix by hand. Whichever method you choose, make sure to mix until all the ingredients are well combined and a cohesive dough forms.
After the initial mixing, it's time to move on to the kneading stage. Kneading is essential for developing gluten, which gives the dough its elasticity and structure. It involves stretching and folding the dough repeatedly to activate the gluten strands. This process helps to create a dough that is strong and stretchy, making it easier to shape and stretch later on.
There are various techniques for kneading dough, and you can choose the one that works best for you. One common method is the push-fold-turn technique. Start by pushing the dough away from you with the heel of your hand, then fold it over itself and give it a quarter turn. Repeat this process, using the heel of your hand to push and fold the dough, until it becomes smooth and elastic.
Another technique is the stretch-and-fold method. Simply stretch the dough out and then fold it back onto itself. Repeat this process several times, gradually incorporating more air into the dough. This method is particularly effective for developing a light and airy crust.
Remember to knead the dough for the recommended amount of time specified in the recipe. Over-kneading can lead to a tough and dense crust, while under-kneading may result in a dough that lacks structure. Practice and experimentation will help you find the perfect balance.
In conclusion, mastering the techniques of mixing and kneading is essential for making perfect pizza dough from scratch. By understanding the importance of gluten development and using the right methods, you can achieve a dough that is easy to work with and produces a deliciously chewy crust. So, roll up your sleeves, gather your ingredients, and get ready to mix and knead your way to pizza perfection!
Choosing the Right Flour
Choosing the right flour is crucial when it comes to making the perfect pizza dough. Different types of flour can greatly impact the texture and taste of your dough, so it's important to understand the characteristics of each.
There are several types of flour commonly used for making pizza dough, including all-purpose flour, bread flour, and Tipo 00 flour. All-purpose flour is a versatile option that works well for most pizza recipes. It has a moderate protein content, which helps create a balanced texture in the dough.
Bread flour, on the other hand, has a higher protein content than all-purpose flour. This extra protein leads to a chewier and more elastic dough, which is ideal for those who prefer a thicker crust with a hearty bite. Bread flour is particularly great for deep-dish or pan pizzas.
Tipo 00 flour, often used in traditional Neapolitan pizza, is finely milled and has a lower protein content compared to other flours. This results in a softer and more tender crust. Tipo 00 flour is known for its ability to produce a light and airy dough, perfect for those who enjoy a thin and crispy crust.
It's important to note that the type of flour you choose will also affect the amount of liquid needed in your dough. Different flours absorb liquid differently, so you may need to adjust the water or other liquid ingredients accordingly.
In addition to the type of flour, you may also consider using specialty flours like whole wheat flour or gluten-free flour for a healthier or dietary-friendly option. These flours will have their own unique characteristics and may require additional adjustments to the recipe.
To summarize, choosing the right flour for your pizza dough is essential for achieving the desired texture and taste. Whether you prefer a chewy, thick crust or a light and crispy one, understanding the different types of flour and their impact will help you create the perfect dough for your homemade pizza.
Adding Yeast and Water
When it comes to making the perfect pizza dough from scratch, one of the most crucial steps is adding yeast and water. Yeast is responsible for the dough's rise and gives it that light and airy texture we all love. However, activating yeast properly is essential to ensure it does its job effectively.
To activate yeast, you need warm water. The water should be around 105°F to 115°F (40°C to 46°C) to activate the yeast without killing it. Too hot, and the yeast will die; too cold, and it won't activate. You can use a kitchen thermometer to measure the water temperature accurately.
Once you have the right temperature, sprinkle the yeast over the warm water and let it sit for about 5 minutes. During this time, the yeast will dissolve and start to bubble, indicating that it's active. If the yeast doesn't bubble or foam, it may be expired or the water temperature might be incorrect.
After the yeast is activated, you can incorporate it into the dough. In a large mixing bowl, combine the yeast mixture with the other ingredients, such as flour, salt, and oil. Gradually add the water while mixing everything together. The amount of water you add will depend on the desired hydration level of your dough. Generally, a hydration level of around 60-65% is recommended for a balanced texture and flavor.
It's important to note that different flours may absorb water differently, so adjust the amount accordingly. You want the dough to be slightly sticky but not overly wet. If the dough feels too dry, gradually add more water. On the other hand, if it's too wet, add a bit more flour until you achieve the right consistency.
By mastering the proper way to activate yeast and incorporate it into the dough, along with the right amount of water for optimal hydration, you'll be well on your way to creating a delicious and perfectly textured pizza dough from scratch.
Adding Salt and Oil
When it comes to making the perfect pizza dough, salt and oil play a crucial role in enhancing its flavor and texture. These two ingredients not only add depth to the taste but also contribute to the overall structure of the dough.
Salt, besides being a flavor enhancer, helps to strengthen the gluten network in the dough. It regulates the fermentation process, allowing the dough to rise properly and develop a desirable texture. Additionally, salt also helps to control the yeast activity, preventing the dough from over-fermenting and becoming overly elastic.
Oil, on the other hand, adds moisture and richness to the dough. It helps to create a softer and more tender crust, giving it a delightful chewiness. Oil also aids in the browning process during baking, resulting in a beautifully golden and crispy crust.
When adding salt and oil to your pizza dough, it is essential to measure them accurately to maintain the right balance of flavors. Too little salt may result in a bland-tasting dough, while excessive salt can overpower the other ingredients. Similarly, using too much oil can make the dough greasy and heavy, while too little may lead to a dry and tough crust.
To ensure even distribution of salt and oil, it is recommended to add them gradually while mixing the dough. This allows for better incorporation and consistency throughout the entire dough. Remember to use high-quality salt and oil for the best results.
In summary, salt and oil are key ingredients in pizza dough that contribute to its flavor, texture, and overall quality. They work together to enhance the taste, strengthen the gluten network, and create a deliciously tender and crispy crust. By understanding their roles and using them in the right proportions, you can elevate your homemade pizza dough to a whole new level of perfection.
Kneading Techniques
Kneading Techniques
Kneading is a crucial step in making the perfect pizza dough. It helps develop gluten, which gives the dough its elasticity and structure. Mastering the art of kneading will ensure that your dough has the ideal consistency and texture for a delicious pizza crust.
Here are some different techniques and tips to help you achieve the perfect kneading:
- Finger Method: Start by pushing the dough away from you using the heels of your hands. Then fold the dough in half and repeat the process. Continue kneading, adding more pressure with your fingers, until the dough becomes smooth and elastic.
- Folding Method: Gently flatten the dough with your hands and fold it in half. Push the dough away from you using the heels of your hands, then fold it in half again. Repeat this process, using the weight of your body to help stretch and develop the gluten.
- Stretch and Fold Method: Stretch the dough out on a lightly floured surface, then fold it in thirds like a letter. Rotate the dough 90 degrees and repeat the stretching and folding process. This method helps create layers in the dough, resulting in a light and airy crust.
Regardless of the technique you choose, keep these tips in mind:
- Be patient: Kneading takes time, so don't rush the process. Give the dough enough time to develop gluten and reach the desired consistency.
- Use the right amount of flour: Too much flour can make the dough dry and dense, while too little can make it sticky and difficult to work with. Add flour gradually as needed, but be mindful not to overdo it.
- Pay attention to the dough's texture: The dough should feel smooth, elastic, and slightly tacky. It should spring back when gently pressed with your finger.
- Practice and experiment: Kneading is a skill that improves with practice. Don't be afraid to experiment with different techniques and adjust the kneading time to achieve the perfect consistency for your pizza dough.
By mastering the art of kneading and following these techniques and tips, you'll be well on your way to creating a pizza dough with the perfect consistency and elasticity. So roll up your sleeves, get your hands in the dough, and enjoy the process of creating homemade pizza from scratch!
Proofing and Rising
Proofing and rising are crucial steps in making the perfect pizza dough from scratch. During the proofing process, the dough is given time to rest and rise, allowing the yeast to ferment and create carbon dioxide gas. This gas is what gives the dough its light and airy texture, resulting in a deliciously fluffy crust.
Proper proofing is essential for achieving optimal fermentation and developing the dough's flavor. The ideal conditions for proofing include a warm and draft-free environment. A temperature of around 75-85°F (24-29°C) is ideal for yeast activity. You can create a warm environment by placing the dough in a lightly greased bowl, covering it with a damp cloth, and leaving it in a warm spot in your kitchen.
It's important to note that proofing time can vary depending on several factors, including the room temperature and desired crust thickness. Generally, the dough should be left to proof for about 1-2 hours. However, if you prefer a thicker crust, you may need to extend the proofing time to allow for more fermentation.
To determine if the dough has proofed properly, you can perform a simple test. Gently press your finger into the dough, and if it springs back slowly, it is ready for the next step. If it springs back quickly, it needs more time to proof. On the other hand, if it doesn't spring back at all, it may have overproofed, and you may need to start over with a new batch of dough.
During the proofing process, the dough will visibly increase in size as the yeast ferments and produces gas. This rise is a sign that the dough is developing properly. Once the dough has proofed, it is ready to be shaped, stretched, and baked into a delicious pizza crust.
Proper Proofing Time
When it comes to making the perfect pizza dough, one of the crucial steps is allowing the dough to proof and rise. The proofing time plays a significant role in developing the flavors and achieving the desired texture of the crust. However, determining the appropriate proofing time can be a bit tricky, as it depends on various factors such as room temperature and desired crust thickness.
So, how do you determine the proper proofing time for your pizza dough? Let's break it down:
- Room Temperature: The ambient temperature of your kitchen or the place where you are proofing the dough can greatly affect the fermentation process. Warmer temperatures speed up the proofing time, while cooler temperatures slow it down. It's essential to find a warm spot in your kitchen, around 75-85°F (24-29°C), for optimal proofing.
- Desired Crust Thickness: The thickness of your pizza crust also impacts the proofing time. Thicker crusts require longer proofing periods to allow the yeast to fully activate and create air pockets. On the other hand, if you prefer a thin and crispy crust, a shorter proofing time may be sufficient.
As a general guideline, the proofing time for pizza dough typically ranges from 1 to 2 hours. However, it's crucial to keep a close eye on the dough and monitor its rise. You can perform the "poke test" to determine if the dough is ready. Gently press your finger into the dough, and if it springs back slowly, it's properly proofed. If it springs back quickly, it needs more time, and if it doesn't spring back at all, it may have overproofed.
Remember, the proofing time may vary depending on the recipe and the specific conditions in your kitchen. It's always best to follow the instructions provided in your pizza dough recipe and make adjustments based on your own experience. With practice, you'll develop a sense of the ideal proofing time for your desired crust.
Creating Ideal Rising Conditions
When it comes to making the perfect pizza dough, creating the ideal rising conditions is crucial. This step ensures that the dough rises properly, resulting in a light and airy crust that is a delight to bite into. So, how can you create the perfect environment for the dough to rise?
Firstly, it's important to consider the temperature. Yeast, which is responsible for the dough's rise, thrives in warm environments. Aim for a room temperature of around 75-80°F (24-27°C) to provide the ideal conditions for fermentation. If it's too cold, the dough may take longer to rise, while if it's too warm, the yeast can become overactive and lead to an undesirable taste.
Another factor to consider is humidity. The dough needs a slightly humid environment to prevent it from drying out. You can achieve this by covering the dough with a damp cloth or placing it in a covered bowl. This helps to retain moisture and ensures a softer and more pliable dough.
Additionally, giving the dough enough time to rise is crucial. The rising time can vary depending on factors such as the amount of yeast used, the room temperature, and the desired crust thickness. Generally, allowing the dough to rise for about 1-2 hours at room temperature should be sufficient. However, keep an eye on the dough and look for visual cues, such as doubling in size, to determine if it's ready.
Lastly, avoid disturbing the dough while it's rising. Moving or touching the dough excessively can cause it to deflate and lose its airy texture. Allow it to rest undisturbed in a warm and humid environment to ensure optimal rising conditions.
By creating the perfect rising conditions, you can ensure that your pizza dough achieves the desired lightness and airiness. Remember, a well-risen dough is the foundation for a delicious pizza crust that will impress your family and friends.
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Perfect meal plan for a quick weight loss
Not sustainable, but ok for 3-5 weeks.
I have been highly busy with weight loss and I just made the perfect meal plan for a single day, which is sooo good I can easily eat it for the entire week. Well at least when it comes to taste and that yummy feel. I have still to calculate the fats, protein and carbs!
I am posting it here for future pleasure because I am so glad when I scroll through my posts and find meals that I remembered that I loved (I only post meals that are so good wish I could bathe in them). Usually I have forgotten the meals when I find them because I try new meals and so on, so I am very excited to see them again.
First! I have spent a good five years tweaking the way that I eat. If you are a daily pizza person and loves bearnaise +++ It will be like going cold turkey to eat like this. Changing your eating habits takes time! In a few days I have spent one year on Bright Line Eating, but I still have had so many meals with sugar and flour during the year. But now, one year after, I eat less sugar and flour. And I can more easily go a month without having any, and without wanting some. So... Patience.
The plan:
The kcal is calculated from what I use and ofc not a global count.
Breakfast | Banana peanut butter rice cakes.
Better than candy!
2 oz homemade peanut butter ( I used “Peanøtter” from Eldorado with a little oil) Remember that future me? Homemade tasted soooooo goooood!
1 oz rice cakes ( I used “First Price Riskaker med salt”)
2,5 oz banana
Half this amount if I am not working out or being active this day.
538 kcal / 269 kcal
Lunch | Overnight oats and chia pudding
Don’t be greedy on the fruit. Every Youtube video with That girl, that woman, what I eat in a day and so on all use so little fruit. The pudding gets yucky yuck.
1 oz oats
0,5 oz chia
6 oz milk
3 drops vanilla extract
6 oz fruit (I like best to have just banana)
a pinch of cinnamon
367 kcal
Make the pudding the night before (make a batch with 2-3 portions/days forward in one container) and add the fruit when I am having some.
Shay Mitchells Protein shake
OMG. Some days this shake is the only thing that get’s me to the gym. Not kidding! It tastes like a milkshake, and I want milkshake. Btw. I can do the same shake without the protein powder as well.
33 g Protein Powder (I use the Belgian chocolate from Protein.no. So good!)
60 g Banana
20 g Peanut butter (Regular or homemade)
10 g Spinach
300 g Milk (I use skimmed milk)
Cut this if I am not working out or being active this day.
397 kcal / 0 kcal
Dinner | Hummus and couscous
Just like that.
2 oz couscous
2 oz hummus
Add some onion if you want, maybe some garlic.
568 kcal
The hummus recipe:
https://www.matprat.no/oppskrifter/gjester/hummus/
I will share the English version soon.
This all adds up to about 1200 kcal if you are working out or not. 1200 is a low calorie diet that is recommended by a Norwegian doctor for people to get a power start on their weight loss. It is important to recognize that he is recommending this amount of calories for only 5 weeks. And on these 5 weeks people can drop 10 kilos/22 pounds, but this obviously depends on how heavy they are from the start. He is talking about people with morbid obesity. If I am lighter, I might not loose as much.
The doctors diet consist of meals I can’t eat because they have some sugar and flour in them, so I am making my own plan.
And since this is a public platform, I would like to share that I am 170 cm tall and I weigh 86 kilos. So I am NOT loosing weight towards underweight, but normal weight. I just got out of morbid obesity, which is when I weigh 87 kilos.
And a little tip! When I was in my normal weight, I was always chasing how to be thinner. I believe that my obsession on becoming thinner is what made me heavier. You have to relax about your weight, and keep a healthy relationship towards it, because it is then easier to forget about it and to not mess things up for yourself. You should not weigh yourself every day, but rather once a month if you have the same obsessions as me. If you do that you have plenty of time to tweak your weight if it gets out of balance.
I used to check up on my weight everyday, but when I was happy and satisfied with my life, I had not learned this and just never checked up on it. I gained 24 kilos in just 6 months! Thinking back, I should have checked it every 1th of the month and made adjustments earlier on. It took me only 6 months to gain the weight and now it has taken me 6 years to loose 12 of them. And I was INSANE when it came to my weight. Everyday obsession. How could this happen, right? But with this experience I can tell you it is so much harder to actually be heavy and loose the weight, than it is to be thin and try to be thinner. So for heavens sake, get a healthy relationship with your weight before it blows up in your face.
March 10th - 2023
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hiiiii 💗🫶🏻✨
those colors are so pretty!!!! honestly i think u did a great job applying the polish<3 plus even if it’s a little messy eventually after you wash your hands/shower once or twice the messy bits on your skin come off so it works out in the end 🤷🏼♀️
the best part of window shopping, especially when it’s at a place that’s expensive, is nitpicking the stuff you don’t like djshsj also that’s valid! it’s nice to take stuff in instead of constantly taking pictures
thank you for sharing your photos 🫶🏻🫶🏻 i enjoyed them and im living for the cat picture ✨
i can help you find a recipe if you would like!! is there any specific kind of chicken and pasta dish you’re looking for? also kudos to you for (potentially) making pasta from scratch! i’ve never done it before so i don’t have any tips but hopefully it goes well if you do end up making it<3
it’s nice that you got to spend time with your family 🥹✨ sucks that your train was 12 hours late though omg ☠️
i made homemade pizza tonight for dinner!! it was the first time i’ve made pizza dough from scratch and it turned out great and my mom and sister enjoyed it as well so im super happy about that ✨
bless your keyboard and you 💗✨ i hope your week is going well so far, sending you lots of love 🫶🏻
-✨holiday pal✨
Helllo
That is absolutely true and the one thing that saves my ass but other than that my execution is pretty bad🤣 but i don't mind, i just think it's fun to see colours on my nails
Did you see that potato i posted in your tag? It's so cute.
I was thinking of like an Alfredo sauce type of thing but with chicken in it. I've found seperate recipes for Alfredo sauce and for different kind of chicken dishes but not a good one for chicken alfredo
That's so so amazing!! I wish I could try your pizza, i bet it was amazing
My week has been going well and that remember I told you I had to write a review for a book on arbitration law i was struggling to get through, i finally completed it! It's obviously not very advanced at all because I've only just completed my first semester so i don't know a lot but im still so happy i got it done
As a reward, I've been binge watching dance videos. This is something about me, i don't know.if you've noticed but i have a 'movement' tag in my blog. Some of it is jokey but it's basically my dedication to dance. I love dance and dancing and choreography and dance concepts and everything. I discovered Aidan Carberry today watching steezy videos and oh my god, i can't believe I didn't know he existed. If you're not that into dance, i still think you'd just get stuck in watching his first dance with his wife Elizabeth. I learned bharatnatyam for like 8 years or so and have the first certificate in it as well. I always wanted to and still want to learn other forms as well but that's not an affordable option. I hope i can get to do it when i earn myself
What's something you like that you haven't told me about that you'd be comfortable sharing??
💕💕💕
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Because I just spent an absurd amount of time trying to open a wine bottle, only for it to be basically flavorless, y’all get some “Dinner with the ghouls & Copia” headcanons. Indeed, I will use anything to facilitate making more headcanons. Below the cut for ease of scrolling, take a piece of cheese from the charcuterie board before you go.
Copia: Definitely tries to make an event out of the meal, he wants his guests to have the whole “dinner and a show” experience, but he can and will do something embarrassing part way through the evening. Be it fumbling the wine bottle or accidentally dropping sauce on his fancy outfit, he’s going to be incredibly dramatic about it, even if most of his “truly devastated” behavior is an act.
He tries to make the effort for when Sister Imperator comes to visit or other important church figures, but if it’s just him and the ghouls? He’s leaning over the coffee table eating chicken wings and pizza and making an absolute mess of himself. Worse yet, he’s feeding the bones to the ghouls because they like the crunch. Simply atrocious.
Aether: He tries, he really does. He puts in the time and effort to make things nice, and hey, it works out just fine! ...Uhhh... most of the time. The first time he cooked for anyone after being summoned was a disaster, the second time was just as bad, and the third time he at least remembered to remove the egg shells from his omelet attempt.
Nowadays he does pretty well, and is a wonderful host, but, much like Copia, if he can swing a no stress meal that lets him sit around in his boxers and watch tv, he will.
Dewdrop: He’s ordering dinner for everyone, he doesn’t have the time or the energy to make a fancy meal for a bunch of hungry people. He just doesn’t. He will remember your extra order of fries, he will ask if they can put the sauce in a separate container, because, “Mountain doesn’t like the ranch ON his food, he likes to dip it. I know that the little plastic cup will cost 25 cents more, he wants his ranch on the side and he’ll have it on the side.”
If he’s by himself though? Five star chef mode suddenly activates and he’s making himself single serve lasagnas and homemade pasta, because, “I deserve it, fuck you.”. Hard to say if his cooking is actually any good taste wise though considering the ghoul can and will eat soap.
Swiss/Multi: He’s taking people to a fancy restaurant to show off, and acts all proper and charming and it’s working dammit. He’s laying it on thick for his group, and he WILL wind up getting dessert for free because the staff thinks he’s handsome. He’s the dude who shows up with a really expensive box of pastries for people to eat that he got with a discount, because he “knows a guy”.
However, he’s also the one crunching down on chicken bones in the first scenario.
Rain: He’s got a box of mac and cheese with your name on it. No, really, he labelled it so he’d remember not to eat it before his dinner date rolled around. A connoisseur of the finest chicken nuggets the freezer section has to offer.
He knows how to make all kinds of fancy dishes, but he’s a ghoul of taste, and knows sometimes simple is better. He will pair Kraft dinner with wine though.
Mountain: He’s going to to try and make you something you haven’t eaten before, keeping any dietary restrictions in mind of course. Likes making the meal alongside his guests and getting them to try the individual ingredients to see how they blend together to make the overall flavor.
Very polite host, who makes sure his guests have plenty of snacks, but is also secretly hoping there are lots of leftovers so he can eat them later after everyone has left.
Cumulus: She’s like Mountain, in that she likes having her guests help out with the meal, but she’ll also settle for them bringing their own individual dishes to share. If her and Mountain team up to make dinner, chances are there’s gonna be six other very curious and hungry ghouls lurking behind the kitchen island.
Cirrus: Makes the best pancakes anyone has ever had, but that’s about it. She can cook, but she simply will not. You’d sooner convince Dew to make dinner for everyone than get her to handle the hassle of feeding eight hungry ghouls. Nope, not happening.
However, if Cumulus asks, well, she can’t say no, because she asked so politely and agreed to help wash the dishes afterwards.
Sunshine: She’s on par with Rain in this case, but Swiss feels, as a fellow multi ghoul, that she deserves better than boxed mac and cheese. Rain wholeheartedly disagrees and thinks it’s the pinnacle of dinner foods. It’s a whole thing.
She can microwave a hotdog without it bursting in the microwave, and Copia will consider that a win compared to the destruction the other ghouls have wrought on the abbey’s kitchen over the years.
#Lamp rambles#nameless ghouls#the band ghost#ghost band#Lamp makes headcanons for the hell of it#it took me half an hour to get the bits of cork out of the bottle because it was so shitty#tastes kind of like I'm drinking the contents of an ink cartridge but I can't back down now#not after all that freaking effort
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