#dropped half my noodles in the sink so portions are a little off

[fresh-shoes]

Is this culinary genius?

[ardentprose]

Rain and Ramen

Jimin x Reader

Genre: Domestic Fluff, Slight Angst

Warnings: mentions of sex

Song: Any rain lo-fi mix on youtube like this one

The water hisses as square-shaped noodles are dropped into the depths of the pot, submerging quickly beneath the bubbles. Jimin tears another package open and peels away the plastic wrapping, tossing it in the general direction of the overflowing trash bin. After deciding there was enough boiling noodles for the two of you, he reaches over to the pitiful portion of counter space tucked between the wall and gas stove top. He picks up a cheap all-in-one spice container and with a flick of his wrist adds a few dashes, licking his thumb at the end. 

Across the room you lie against the peeling wallpaper decorated with posters collected from various soon-to-be and never-to-be-known artists alike framing your head and shoulders. Jimin could not understand why you insisted on getting the signatures of each and every musician after their set no matter how late you were forced to stay. You tell him if they ever became famous you could sell them on e-bay to pay next month’s rent.

What if they never go anywhere? He would ask holding on to the pole above your hand, chest pressed to your back, as you took the train home. 

Then at least we made them feel like they would. You always respond earning an endearing kiss on the forehead from your husband.

You flip a page in your book, coming to the end of the chapter. You squint under the lamp light that has now become more apparent than what your two windows could offer in the wake of a raging night thunderstorm. Heeding your mother’s warning as a child to never read in the dark, you close the book and roll your neck. 

Your eyes naturally find your husband, shirtless at the stove a mere twenty feet in front of you. The muscles in his shoulders contract as he tends to dinner, at times stretching so that the ligaments that define his back accentuate his spine. A pair of dimples right above the waistline of his sweatpants - the same ones he’s worn since college - wink at you from time to time. It never fails to draw a smile to your face, even if Jimin swears to you to just wait another month and he’ll get rid of the love handles. 

“These are not love handles, Jimin! You’re skinnier than I am. And even if they were, I’d love you all the same.” You would tell him as your fingertips trace the soft skin peeking between his tee and boxers. 

“They are though and I would be fine if I could just get rid of them. How will I scare other men away if I look like the chubby side kick rather than the dashing, strong hero?” 

He always pouts and even in the dark you know his cheeks are as round as the dumplings you splurge on every weekend. But telling him you want to bite said cheeks like the delectable side dish would be asking him to take it the wrong way. 

So you would resort to loving his body the best way you knew how. By using your wandering fingertips to push his hips over, swinging your leg over his at the same time. With his back pressed into the mattress, he has no where to run, no where to look but up at you. You have his full attention now instead of his self-deprecating thoughts.

Instinctively he lays his palms on your hips. Your hands rest over them. 

“Feel these? These are real love handles, Jiminie. You are more than ten pounds away from having them.” 

He would pinch your skin, finally seeing your way of things as you talked yourself down the way he did, relenting to your unconditional love and the way your hips roll over his. And every flaw, perceived or real, would be kissed and held and adored as love blossomed between your unified bodies and locked lips. 

Jimin turns the stove off as the first thunder clap erupts. The tall narrow window that spared your humble one-room apartment some few hours of daylight rattles with the vibrations of the building. On cue, rain assaults the glass with such ferocity Jimin pauses his actions as you draw your eyes from his body to the sky. 

“I really hope the glue holds.” Jimin mutters as he runs his fingertips along the crease of the window frame. Last time, water collected in the bricks of your old building and caused water damage that your landlord found all too easy to pin on you.

“Grab a hand towel to be safe and stuff it in the corners.” You suggest. Jimin hums and takes a spare one to do just that.

As night arrives in full, the room is cast in a yellow haze offered by the odd lamps you two had found at the nearest thrift shop. That was what made up most of your apartment. A unique arrangement of cheap but practical furniture, not one item matching another. Maybe once upon a time in high school you had created a dozen Pinterest boards of your aesthetically pleasing home. But now, in reality, you had grown to love the story of the life you and Jimin had created together in this hole-in-the-wall home.

“Chopsticks or fork?” Jimin’s soft voice, subdued with a long day’s fatigue, breaks your constant reminiscing. You spot him holding a bowl in hand, the other resting in the single drawer holding plastic take out utensils available. 

“Chopsticks.” You answer, pulling your legs from the tangle of blanket and sheets they had become intertwined with, resetting the bed that acted as the main function of your home.

He rolls his eyes. “You don’t know how to use chopsticks.” 

“I do too! And if that was true, then why did you ask me?” You retort, playing along to the nightly argument so routine it felt like saying prayer before dinner. 

“Because if I don’t you’ll get mad at me for assuming you wanted a fork.” Jimin scoffs, grabbing two pairs of chopsticks despite his own opinion.

“I do not-”

“Or you’ll just steal mine so you can prove to me how much of a mess you make.” 

You grin unabashedly but do your best to look horrified by his accusation. 

“You’re lucky I love you, Park Jimin.” You accept the bowl and the kiss he leaves on your lips. 

“You’re the lucky one.” Jimin yelps at the swat to his butt as he returns to the stove for his own serving.

You set up your laptop, signing in and opening Netflix to find the TV show Jimin and you binged every night like a true married couple. There weren’t many things you guys could afford, but having the small luxury of escaping reality and daydream of another life with the one you love was a price you were willing to subtract for a sense of sanity. In this case, however, it was daydreaming an affordable home in the suburbs. As such, you were in the middle of season two of House Hunters.

Once everything is settled, Jimin sits crossed-leg beside you, his knee brushing yours and thigh keeping your skin warm. As always, you exchange comments between slurps of noodles, sometimes agreeing and other times arguing over the characters’ choices in the story. 

During such an argument you go in for a mouthful of noodles without paying attention. What little noodles you manage to grab splash onto your legs, leaving yellow residue and the sting of failure on your skin.

“Jimin…” You stare at the screen ahead of you, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing your guilty expression. 

“‘Ere you go, baby.” He pulls out a fork from seemingly no where and having to spare a glance at him to take it, you see he’s doing his best not to smirk but failing triumphantly. 

“I ate half my bowl!” You protest as he reaches over with a napkin again from thin air to wipe down your legs as you hold the bowl over his head. ‘I told you so’ glitters in his eyes as clear as day. But being the sweetheart he is, he says nothing. Even if his shoulders shake with internal laughter. He leaves a kiss on your thigh and tosses away the napkin. Then shovels another pile of ramen between his swollen lips. 

The rain grows steady, causing you to turn up the volume on your laptop. Finished with his bowl, Jimin sets it on the nightstand and maneuvers your body against him, careful of your hot soup but wrapped up in you all the same. His breath smells heavily of ramen, hot against your neck, but you have no desire to move him, indulging in his mouth leaving little affectionate sucks and kisses from time to time. 

As you finish your bowl he takes it for you, setting it with his to be washed later. He turns your chin for another kiss, hands falling to your stomach to rest comfortably. Your hands settle over his, picking at the hangnails on each finger nail. Then tracing the wedding band that clicks against yours every so often. 

The episode ends and the rain has quieted to a steady hum. The paper thin walls of your apartment remain standing, although the edges of the wood paneling round your window frame look a bit warped. 

“It’ll dry.” Jimin says against your temple, knowing you worry about the landlord finding any and every reason to accuse you of damages in order to take what little savings Jimin and you had saved since graduating college.

“I hope so.” 

“You know so.” He squeezes you making you grunt in warning from a full belly. Jimin releases your body and rolls out of bed, ignoring your whines so he can set the dishes in the sink.  

You put the laptop away and spread-eagle out on the bed as Jimin turns out each lamp around the room before stepping into the bathroom to brush his teeth. 

“Babe, come brush your teeth!” He mumbles with a mouth full of toothpaste.

“No, I’ll do it in the morning.” you whine, rolling under the covers. 

You hear Jimin spit into the sink and rinse it down. Shutting off the light he returns, joining you under the covers. 

“You’re gross.” He states. You hum, wiggling closer to him and finding your favorite place, face tucked into his neck and leg slotted between his heated thighs. Warm palms resiliently soft after years of blue collar jobs run down your shirt - well, really his shirt from work today - and back up against your skin. Goosebumps dance down your spine and a shiver pushes you closer into Jimin’s heat. He unclips your bra and convinces you to sit up long enough to slide it off. He’s more concerned than you are about the rumors of bra-sleeping health issues but you’re just thankful to breathe easier without it.

You hum a thanks, offering your lips in a goodnight kiss which he takes no matter what he says. Your hands run up and down his chest, one settling between your heartbeats, the other drapes over his neck. The blanket shifts as he adjusts to a better position and sighs. 

The steady beat of rain offers a lullaby and you fall asleep in no time. Jimin can feel the steady exhale of warmth against his pectoral. Even if he wakes up in the morning with drool dried down to his stomach, he doesn’t care, pulling you all the more closer as he plays with the ends of your hair. It helps him fall asleep, twirling it around his fingertips, brushing against his palm and offering the scent of home to him. Sometimes it’ll be tucked away, and even still, Jimin will wait until your sound asleep to find a stray to untuck and twirl again and again. It’s not unusual for you to wake up with Jimin’s hand tangled in your hair forcing you to gently extract his fingers with your head bent at odd angles in order to not wake him up.

Jimin is not particularly proud of the place you two presently call home. The building creaks, the room is claustrophobic, and as his wife, you deserve a home where you’re allowed to paint the  walls whatever color you like. Bills, unpaid and overdue constantly occupy him. It seems no matter how many hours you pick up or jobs he fits into the week there’s still not enough to give you everything you want. Jimin sighs and bites his lip. 

Everything I want for you. He corrects, knowing that the decision to move into a low-income house was part of the plan you both agreed to. In fact, you had suggested it in order to be able to attack those student loans first. Yet Jimin wanted more for the both of you. He wanted you to decorate room after room of a beautiful house that the two of you would grow old together in. He wanted a safe neighborhood in case you wanted kids - or even pets. 

He wanted a stable job, a lifelong career he could take joy in and also provide for his wife with. You assured him every day that a future like that awaited you. He just needed to be patient. But how long could you put up with this? How long before your father’s advice crept back in and reminded you how marrying Jimin so young was unwise.

Then again, how could he forget the way you fought for him in front of your entire family at Thanksgiving? - and won them over. How could he forget the excitement in your eyes as he told you his dreams of dancing and telling stories with every fiber of his being. You were nearly pushing him into the dance academy’s administration office. How could he forget the way you made the best of every situation as if it wasn’t your current lifestyle but a game of pretend?

“It’s just for now. Not always.” The words have become your mantra. Even if all the worries of living a comfortable life plagued Jimin every day, he was thankful that he was here with you. He would never regret proposing to you. He would cherish the nights falling asleep next to you in this tiny little room. No matter how many nights there would be. 

[ophiexb]

Christmas 1994 (Ch2)

Ch 1 Here

No pairings, very platonic love. Alex centric, sickfic - Final Chapter :)

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Gifts appear under their shoddily constructed tree, at first it’s one, then two, and slowly it grows to a handful and no one says anything about it, but it’s also exciting to see the bright foil under there and know they're having a real holiday this year together. No one's fighting, no ones getting something that shows no one knows a thing about them. It’s going to be all packaged with love and that adds a warm note to all of it.

Winter break rolls up quickly, meaning Reggie and Bobby are around all the time and Luke’s glad to see a lot of that tension leak out of Alex’s shoulders and face. It helps to have regular company of his friends to distract him from the racing thoughts and they spend the time writing music, practicing for gigs after the holidays, and watching endless amounts of late night tv curled up on the couch all together in a pile.

It’s...it’s perfect. It’s just how living in a dorm would be like, or an apartment and yeah sure- Two of the four of them were officially high school dropouts, with nothing but a dream keeping them going. They just had to keep playing, keep showing up around the city and getting their name all over the town and eventually it would all come together. It wouldn’t matter anymore, and Luke could show his mom. He could show her-music really was worth it. Music was important music was everything and they’d made it. 

“Staying the night?” Bobby asked Reggie as he cleaned up some of the plates from pizza. Sinking back down on the couch careful not to wake Alex who was snoring softly against the pillow he’d wrapped around. 

“Yeah-If that’s okay?” Bobby rolled his eyes tossing the blanket to the other and laughing as they’d adjusted around to be comfortable and warm all together.

 “Silly question dork.” He teased before turning the volume down a little on the tv. Peaking over at Luke fast asleep over his notebook to the side, it wasn’t long before he was fast asleep the sound of the soft buzz of tv and all the others fast asleep in his ears.

Reggie woke them getting some breakfast together with the limited choices they had around the studio. Luke was the first up, moving up to sit in a better spot and jumping right back into his writing with a yawn. Only extracting himself to grab a drink and wander back. Bobby isn’t far behind yawning as he stretches and leaves the small space all together to head up into the house. He comes back with some more food and fresh fruit. Laying it out on their makeshift table.

“Someone wake Alex-he'll be pissed if he misses breakfast.” Reggie joked getting a paper plate together for the drummer and Luke gently leans over to nudge the other. Shaking him a little and Alex shifted, a rough cough coming from his lips followed by a few more that Luke gently pats his back for before he’s being waved off. He seems okay after a drink, but there’s a soft crackle to his breaths they're all aware of.

“Here’s some juice.” Bobby says softly, giving the teen the drink and taking his empty bottle of water. “Reggie made us some food.”

“I wouldn’t call it so much made as I microwaved some oatmeal and sausages.” The other said, rolling his eyes a bit, giving the blonde his plate. Alex settled back down near Luke, but they didn't miss him idly picking at the food, taking a bite or two before he’s dumping his portion onto Luke’s plate. He takes the juice though curling up at the end of the couch to watch whatever cartoons the guys left on.

They don’t say anything and no one is sure what to say. Unsure if it’s just one of those days and he’s struggling or if more is at play but for now they let Alex have his space. All of them falling into a simple routine and existence around one another. “I was thinking we could start to get some set lists together for some shows after the Holidays?” Luke suggested showing Bobby some of his idea notes. 

“Yeah-yeah I like this.” The teen said tilting his head and flipping between them. Alex coughs next to Luke, it’s that same wet, rough cough from earlier and Luke simply climbs up refilling his Juice and brings it back to him before he’s turning back to their work. Bobby makes a note to go on ahead and get some medicine next time his Mom asks what they need. Just in case.

“You should add Now or Never.” Reggie points out catching sight of the list. “It’s a good song to open up with and it gets the crowd excited.” Luke makes a note up top with a soft thanks showing him the papers a little more closely to get some input. It’s all so-simple. There’s no yelling, there’s no fighting, they are all just doing their own thing and working on some band stuff without fear or worry of saying the wrong thing. They really have built an incredible family in one another.

It goes through most of the day like that, Bobby goes instead and brings them a nice lunch his Mom made all of them. Alex is fast asleep curled up on the chair so they set his aside not wanting to bother him if he’s not feeling hot. Instead the three gather around him watching cartoons and various shows together as the time passes.

Reggie has to head out first as the sun slowly sets. He can’t stay more than one night in a row unless it’s for school, and with the break he can’t use that excuse, and Bobby’s parents end up calling him back to the house to have dinner and a family night. Telling him to take a break from his music for now. Luke shifts scrounging around for what to make him and Alex for dinner settling for just some regular ramen noodles.

“Lex.” He says softly when they're ready nudging the other a bit. Alex stirs and coughs roughly into his arm and Luke winces sympathetically. “Come on, you can drink the broth if you want but you’ve got to drink some soup and have some water.” He encouraged. “What are our symptoms looking like Chief?” He teased softly but this isn’t a depression or anxiety induced nap Alex is having, he knows the difference and this is definitely Sick Alex .

“Cough, headache.” Alex said roughly, and Luke adds sore throat to that list realizing that this was the first time he’d heard Alex talk today. “Exhaustion? Nothing serious “ He confirmed firmly to the other. 

“Drink your soup, have some water.” Luke encouraged. “And then you can go back to sleep. Probably just need to sleep it off.” He teases taking a moment to really clean up after himself and head up to their shared bed to get things ready for Alex. He grabs some clothes and sets a water bottle by their bed making sure everything he needs is up there for him. Heading back down to check on the others progress. “Good! Better.” He encouraged, glad to see the other taking in fluids, it was probably the drop in temperature. Alex was always getting winter colds every year so Luke wasn’t too worried.  Alex finishes off the water and most of the soup, and Luke makes sure he gets into bed. Once he was settled he heads down to finish up some of the music he’d been working on, and some of the ideas for venues.

“Here.” Bobby says softly, it’s pretty late and he’s wearing pajamas. He’s holding some half usedNyQuil and DayQuil and Luke thanks him probably about ten times. “My mom also got some chicken noodle soup and stuff. I can heat it up tomorrow.” He yawns. 

“Thank you man, yeah that’ll be great. I’m sure a day or two and he’ll be just fine. He always gets these little colds in the winter.” He shrugs. “Goodnight man thank you.” He feels better having medicines in hand, and decides to head to bed for the night. He shuts everything down and locks up heading up to their bed and crashes. 

He wakes up because someone turned the heater on way too high, his sweaty and uncomfortable and he groans pushing himself free of some blankets. Only he realizes that moment they don’t have a heater and jolts, only dim street lights coming in lighting their room as he scrambled to touch Alex. He’s burning. Soft raspy sounds from his lips as he breaths and his skin his pale and yet somehow flushed all at once. “Damn.” He swears grabbing the bottle of medicine Bobby gave him and reads the back before opening it up. He’s got to get the fever down, he doesn’t know much about medicine but he knows it’s not safe. Alex whines softly as Luke jostles him but he doesn’t do much else and Luke’s careful sitting him up against his chest. 

By some miracle he gets the medicine, and a few sips of water down before letting the other lay back down. Pulling some of the layers off the other. He wished he’d had something to monitor it, know when it reaches the point of getting help. Regardless of the situation at home or not at home. Luke would never put anyone in danger, and sometimes that means making a call on if it’s best to go to the hospital or let it sort itself out. There’s no way he’s going back to sleep, but he’s not about to leave Alex alone so he quickly moves to grab some of his things before sliding back in bed next to him. 

He’s not equip to deal with this, he’s sixteen years old, he doesn’t know what to look out for. What’s dangerous-what’s to much or when it’s safe. It’s these moments that make him angry. That positive attitude fades-Alex should be home. In his warm bed with his Mom checking on him constantly and taking care of him. Calling him out from school sick and taking him to his doctor if needed. He shouldn’t be shivering, moaning from a fever and coughing so hard it shakes the bed in some cold garage converted to a studio. 

Alex only gets worse and Luke’s heart sinks. All their hopes and plans for this amazing Christmas, better than ever. The best they’ve ever seen-he’s not sure that’s going to happen. If they have to take him to a hospital or doctor it’s going to quickly turn into so much more. Luke won’t be able to go with him, the police will be brought in. He’s only a minor- 

“Jesus” He jumped not even having realized Bobby had come in. Making his way up to them likely when he heard everything. “Luke that sounds bad.”

“I know.” Luke protested, gently wiping away some of the sweat from Alex’s hair. “I know it is-I dont know what to do.” His voice cracks a little and he’s not ashamed. 

“He might need a doctor.” Bobby checks the labels of the medicine before coming around to check on Alex. “I don’t even know….Have you tried to give him his inhaler? It might help the cough.” Luke’s surprised he hadn’t thought of that, beating himself up mentally as he digs through Alex’s bag. Giving him a few hits that definitely helped some of that raspiness. But only slightly-the main irritation. Likely mucus-was still very much there. 

“We can’t.” Luke whispered. “Not unless we know for sure it’s an emergency….if we take him they’ll take both of us away…..” He mumbled softly rubbing Alex’s back as he moans pitifully coughing into the pillow. “He’s a minor, and he got kicked out so if his parents don’t come for him they’ll put him in the system we know that…” He whispered, and Bobby frowns looking at Alex. Luke grabs the wash cloth again gently getting it wet with the bowl of water he'd grab and wringing it out to wipe away the sweat from Alex’s face. He’d seen  it in a movie once and it seemed to help. 

“Let me see what we’ve got in the house…..” Bobby said softly, moving to climb down and head inside the house. Alex makes a noise, and Luke frowns turning to him fully the heat radiating off of him is unsettling. 

“It’s going to be okay….” Luke whispered softly, his eyes burn and he pushed it aside it’s not about his feelings right now. He shifts carefully grabbing some of the water and pulling Alex up against him so he could encourage the other to drink some more water. He gets the other to thankfully drink some before Alex coughs, choking on some of the water and coughing roughly. Luke sets the bottle aside, rubbing over his chest a bit to try and get him to take a breath and realizes when he does those blue eyes are open. Looking at Luke-there a little glassy. Luke can tell he’s still out of it. “Lex….hey. Hey you okay?” He whispered, running his hands through the blonde hair and shifting to lay him out again.

“I-No.” He fumbled out weakly and he’s crying  and Luke feels his own tears burn his eyes again. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know how to help. There’s noises to the side and Bobby is back with a bag.

“I raided our medicine cabinet, fridge-pantry. You name it.” He said pulling some stuff out. “Oh hey-Hey Alex.” He said softly leaving it for the moment as he came over to check on the other.

Alex squeezes Luke’s hand coughing as he curls a bit it’s impossible to miss those tears. Bobby frowns, grabbing some of the medicines and between the two of them they get Alex to take them, and get some more water down before he’s out. “I know it feels and looks bad….but I’m sure in a day or two he’ll be just fine…” Bobby reassured feeling a lot better once he saw Alex awake even for a mokejtS “I called my Mom at work and let her know I needed some stuff, she said she’d go to the store on her way home.” 

Luke has never been more thankful for Bobby and his family ever before, between the two of them they keep Alex hydrated, and the medicine seems to finally start to bring the fever down. He still wasn’t sure aware or awake-but they managed. Reggie shows up mid afternoon with an overnight bag and a bag full of snacks, the four of them hanging out upstairs around Alex keeping a close eye on him as they talked about shows and movies they’d been watching and just music. As always- Luke feels a little more at ease having the guys around and Bobby leaves for a moment when his mom gets home to grab the medicines from her, she doesn’t question a thing already back on the phone for work. 

Between the three of them now, they are on top of making sure he gets medicine every couple hours, that he’s drinking plenty of water, that he’s getting some small sips of broth. He’s still coughing pretty heavily-but with the fever gone Luke feels like it’s going to be okay. 

Alex is more aware and around the second day, it’s easier to get water, and food into him despite the fact he weakly protests he’s not hungry. He still does it, to ease the lines of worry from the others' faces, he still takes the regular does of medicine but he’s awake for longer periods of time, and by the third day he’s only got a lingering cough. The fevers gone, and the body aches. Bobby sneaks him in while his Moms at work to shower up and get fresh clothes on. Taking the sheets and comforters from the bed to wash. Bringing out fresh new ones for them for the night.

With Alex doing better, and it being Christmas Eve and all-Bobby leaves early and has to spend most of the day with his family. Reggie reluctantly leaves as well knowing he can’t miss the holidays with them completely. They’ll be back-the 26th is what Luke officially declares their Christmas but tomorrow it’ll just be him and Alex. Which is fine, the blonde needs more rest and it’s hard with all the guys around.

Luke wakes up early Christmas morning-but the bed is empty. It smells like pancakes- and He’s up and down the loft to see two small paper plates and Owen looking a hundred times better, smiling at the other. He’s got a mug of what looks like tea. “Merry Christmas.” Alex says happily. “Bobby brought these-I just microwaved them to melt the butter and warm the syrup.” He joked, coughing lightly into his hand and Luke frowns.

“Did you-“

“Yes I took my medicine.” Alex rolled his eyes. “Eat your breakfast-and open your gift.” He grabbed a box, bright green metallic wrapping paper on it and he slides it over.

“Alex-“ He protested the food forgotten. “I thought we were doing gifts tomorrow.” He joked.

“This is different-it’s not much. Obviously but….I wanted you to have something Christmas Day….” He said softly. “I got it for you last month-before everything….” Luke pulls the paper away it’s a small box with a white lid and he tugs it off. It’s a stone necklace, it matches his other one but this ones lighter, and slimmer and he tugs it out slowly. 

“Alex...I love it…” He pulls it over his head playing with it for a moment before smiling at the other. “I don’t have anything-“

“Eat your pancakes.” Alex laughs pushing the plate over to him. “I’m glad you like it Luke….” He said happily, the fact the other liked it so much, that he seemed so happy with it- that was more than enough for him. “You were right…” The other tilted his head as he shoved a bite full of pancakes into his mouth. “It is the best Christmas ever.” Luke smiles so wide around the mouthful of food and Alex sticks his tongue out at him laughing filling the small studio. 

[hecallsmehischild]

On Losing Weight

Recently I was asked a question that prompted me to pull together all the information I could remember about how my husband, Sergey, and I have been eating over the last few years. We both struggle very much with food and have been trying to do better by our bodies for a long time, but are wary of all the diets and fads. This post has details about what we’ve tried to date and what has worked for us. Most of it is written by me. At the end, Sergey wrote a few paragraphs also. Very long post under the cut.

Disclaimers and a few generalities

One thing about eating and weight loss is that accountability really helps. However, I’ve found personally that even if everyone in your family means well, accountability partners should not be within the family. The main reason I've found is that there's too much baggage with any family member (with the potential exception of your marriage partner) for accountability to ever go well and function as it should. Resentment, triggers, irritation, even accidental shaming crops up because of old baggage and derails everything. You need accountability with someone who you don’t carry a lot of baggage with, because there’s often a huge emotional component to eating.

It takes a LONG time to lose large amounts of weight. You can lose five to ten pounds relatively quickly, but often your body will stabilize on the new number and then you may find it very hard to get lower for months, so continuing to try new things is helpful.

You will yo-yo between 3 and 5 pounds all the time. That is standard. So think in five pound increments in any direction, because your bodyweight is constantly in flux over a few pounds. For this reason, weighing once a week is a lot more accurate than weighing every day and will cause a lot less despair and frustration.

We are not vegetarians at all. We cannot offer any thoughts on a vegetarian diet.

Whatever you do, food-wise, has to be part of your ordinary life. Short term diets set you up to fail. Changing your lifestyle is what will produce long-lasting changes.

Also, some of the things my husband and I try, in some ways, appears to walk the line of eating disorder. I’m watching it very closely with that in mind, and I still don’t think it falls into the trap. Sergey and I do not have enough activity to burn off all the food with take in, so we’re trying things to decrease our food intake AND increase our activity, so that we reach a reasonable balance. But people who have (or are tempted by) eating disorders need to take care, and I would recommend not reading this post or else proceeding with utmost caution.

Obviously not all of the things we do are feasible for everyone, but maybe even hearing some of our ideas might spark a different way of thinking about food and being active for you.

One Meal a Day

Three meals a day makes a lot of sense if you’re doing hard labor all the time. It doesn’t make as much sense if you have a desk job or take care of a house as your main occupation. So the first thing we did a few years back is cut down to one meal a day. It could be anything at all, but it had to be just one meal. That alone dropped us both about 10 pounds down. We’d have one meal around lunch, and later in the evening we would share a large bowl of some sort of fruit (like tangerines or cherries). The aim was to eat things that were both good and filling. Variation keeps you from getting bored and abandoning the lifestyle.

Meals were often grilled salmon or home-warmed burgers (lean, when we could) or a soup from Trader Joe’s. Some of our meals now:

Two burgers with lean beef patties, pickles, and some mayo on bakery fresh onion rolls

Lox (with is VERY low cal, if expensive) on onion rolls with tomato and onion, a little oil and pepper and salt

Sharing a whole roast chicken from the store, plus a roll each

Large can of tuna mixed with a little mayo on two onion rolls

Shredded chicken and mashed potatoes from the store’s fresh packaged food section

Pot roast and mashed potatoes from the store’s fresh packaged food section

Meatballs. Just meatballs.

A spicy beans/rice/sausage/mushroom dish we brainstormed that we make in a pressure cooker

Home-made chicken mushroom fettuccine alfredo. Not super healthy, but hot and homemade. (this is a “maintenance” meal, see what I mean by that later)

A bag of chicken fried rice from Trader Joe’s

Soup from the grocery store (not the canned kind, but the fresher ones sold by the store)

Two larger sized tamales

One frozen pizza (inspect the full calorie count, you’re shooting for something between 600 and 1000 calories total, which does exist but it takes some looking and experimenting with types) whose flavor can always be spiced up with extra mushrooms or garlic powder. Not the Tostino’s or Party pizzas. I promise there are healthier, tastier, and more varied pizzas to be had in this calorie range.

Chicken breast or chicken thigh meat is sold frozen. Cook that and make that into sandwiches for very lean, filling meals. Use of various spices encouraged.

A tray of baked “catfish nuggets” which are chunks of catfish cooked in the oven

A tray of baked white meat chicken nuggets

Cocktail shrimp (thawed from frozen) with cocktail sauce

I have just broken into the frontier of omelettes, also low-cal and filling in conjunction with onion rolls.

Sergey would often go to a salad bar and load up on the salad, then also load up on the chicken noodle soup which is very filling and very low cal.

Sergey eats his meal closer to noon or one. I try to eat my meal around 3 or 4 if I can hold out, because then I’m not groaning about how hungry I am in the evening or being kept up by hunger pangs. For me, that’s the mid-point of the day and the one that helps me deal with hunger best.

Snacks and Sweets

Snacks are always tricky, and large bags of anything salty are automatic failures in this house; we are incapable of portioning them. So we stopped getting them unless we acknowledged the truth to ourselves, which is that one bag is one serving size no matter what the back says (i.e. we embraced that we’re being bad and got it anyway).

For a while Sergey and I had an occasional bowl of non-buttered popcorn with powdered salt. This worked for a bit because it was pretty filling, but Sergey found himself making multiple bowls so we had to stop because that defeated the purpose.

Some stores sell very small snacks individually portioned, like a tiny foil pack of variously flavored olives, or banana bites coated in cacao, etc. Those are great. Rice cakes can be good, though I get tired of them after a while. I like the cinnamon apple and chocolate ones best. Speaking of cinnamon apple, individual oatmeal cups are good too. I aim for around 140 cal for a snack.

Sometimes I will snack on a lean burger patty or chicken thigh-meat piece, each of which is about 70 cal.

By himself, Sergey often would (and still does) fill a large bowl full of small quartered tomatoes mixed with pepper, oil, and onion. He can put away two of these tomato salads a day as “snacks.” He says they’re very filling, good for you, and low-cal. He’s leaning more on bowls of baby carrots and sugar snap peas these days. Sometimes he will make a large bowl of Golden Apple slices to chow down on.

I keep NO ice cream in the house. I may get a larger quantity for a birthday celebratory binge, or use individual containers as a reward system, but I never “stock up” on ice cream. Birthday? Maybe 4 of the personal containers of various flavors, and that’s it for my birthday treat. Reward system? Once I get to a certain weight, I allow myself to have one small personal container of ice cream (or my other favorite, a jar of honey pecans) a week. The incentive to get to a certain weight balances out the slow-down on the weight loss the treat causes, because this can’t be all about deprivation or I couldn’t sustain it. Being able to sustain a way of eating into a lifestyle is a huge deal.

I keep dried cranberries in the cabinet. Sometimes if I’m hungry and need to hold out, I’ll grab one handful of those to eat. I keep larger quantities of oatmeal too, but I’m not sure if that’s working against me or not, because I dump high quantities of honey in to bring it up to my sweet tooth standards so it might end up being a bad thing for me. I haven’t sat down to figure that out yet.

I make a mean chunky cinnamon applesauce that is a delicious and pretty healthy snack, too, when I have the energy to make it.

I would like to make sweets all the ding dong day, but it works against us, so I have to reserve my sweets making for when there’s a large group to share them with. Otherwise we would eat all of that ourselves.

Tools that help

Making your own food at home becomes a lot more enjoyable and feasible for low-energy people like us when there are tools that cut back on the effort it takes. To that end

A good 6 qt pressure cooker does everything a crockpot does, but it has more options and is faster.

A good food processor can do almost anything, from applesauce to milling oats to slicing veggies to finely dicing the onions you don’t want to deal with, to making ice cream out of frozen bananas and cocoa powder. We have an older one and it still does wonders, even though some of the latches don’t work right.

A good indoor grill machine.

Electric mixer/beater. The effort of making cookies goes down by a third to a half the personal energy cost when you use this, plus the process goes faster and the texture is so much better.

A dishwasher. A good dishwasher means you aren’t spending a ton of energy cleaning up all the dishes you soiled just making food. Did you know there are portable dishwashers that hook up to your sink if you don’t have one in the home? I just learned this...

This one heavily depends on how much you’d use it, but it can be very inexpensive to get an electric citrus juicer. I can go through about 40 lemons for a party-sized quantity of lemonade and it wracks out my wrist to do that manually, so I got a good one for about $20.

This website is one Sergey uses to see what products are legitimately good, because Amazon is starting to have major issues with fake reviews PLUS Chinese knock-offs getting passed off as the good product. This site user-tests a ton of different brands of the same product and tells you which one they found to be best and why, then gives a few runners up in other categories like price or different type. I used this to find a good set of salt/pepper grinders, a good knife sharpener, and an individual serving coffee maker. I also found my electric mixer and citrus juicer on here.

Also, pickling things is fun and very cheap and easy.

A few radical things

This is our lifestyle, not a diet. We go crazy with our eating when we’re on a trip, but normal, everyday eating is the one-meal-a-day plan for us. Going to a friend’s place for a meal is a balancing act that we often fail (because it’s often all-you-can-eat), but we’re already brainstorming ways to compensate.

Here’s for something radical sounding, to be handled with care. While Sergey aims for around 1300 calories a day, approximately, I aim for under or close to 800. I’ve found that if I eat the same things as him, I maintain my current weight but do not lose any. It’s when I, the smaller and less active person, undershoot him, that I start gaining ground. When I reach the weight I’m aiming for, I will allow myself more leeway to get to his calorie intake level, because that’s “maintenance” level for me.

Here’s the current thing we are testing, so the results are not in yet. We’re doing this because neither of us has been able to budge our weight for a while. It’s a combination of factors so track with me. We like a place called Star Cinema Grill which is a movie theater that serves you a meal and/or drinks while you watch the movie. But even for one meal this is a very high calorie day if we go there. We swore off going for a long time, until their marketing department sent out a wave of “Two free tickets!” in the mail. Sergey figured that he would go, and then he would not eat for 48 hours to make up for it. I was a little concerned by the idea, but after thinking it over for a while (with the concern about eating disorders in mind) it didn’t actually seem that unreasonable. So I joined him in this. So now we’ve worked out that we can go to Star Cinema Grill on occasion as long as it’s followed by a 48 hour fast.

We had previously tried 48 hour fasts (which consist of, for example, eating lunch around noon on Sunday and stopping food until lunch on Tuesday, so that you sleep through much of the 48 hour period) but we first did the fast on ONLY water. By the second day we were both so lethargic and unfocused that we could hardly function. This time we allowed ourselves to have several rounds of tea or mocha throughout the day. That time, we experienced very negligible energy drops and made it through the period of no-eating with a lot less suffering.

NOW. I was reading Freakonomics by Steven Levitt and Stephen Dubner, the expanded and revised edition, and at the end they included several articles they had written as bonus material. Please read this article to understand where I’m going next.

Excited, I rushed over to Sergey to make him read this bit. This is already sort of what we had been doing. Though this guy had distilled it down to sugar water, tea with a cube of sugar isn’t much different. My mocha had about three times the sugar, but was still on the very low end of calories for a day. So this idea (that sugar-water helps trick your body past hunger) was being confirmed for us by someone else. So we’ve decided to test out doing this 48-hour fast once a week, which may also allow for re-inclusion of things we tend to forgo more often (like weekly ice cream? Or a fresh batch of cookies?). Stay tuned...

Going out

We built a list of places and categories of how good or bad they are for us to go to. We divided them into Healthy and Healthy Cheat. Bad ones don’t make it on the list so we’re not tempted when we’re thinking of where to go out.

Healthy Restaurants are places where, if you’re reasonable with your choices, you can eat pretty much any one meal on their menu. (Lemon Shark is our Poke place in the area. Poke is unreasonably good and healthy and filling for you, and most will have vegetarian or cooked options on the menu if you don’t like raw fish. Jinya is a ramen place, though you have to be a little more selective about because some dishes are two meals’ worth, and Sweet Tomatoes is a salad bar also known as Souplantation in some regions)

Healthy Cheat Restaurants are places where we know we’ll probably eat more than we should, but the food is still relatively healthy. Tokyo Grill and Dimassi’s are both buffet places with relatively healthy options near us. Fukuda Sushi is our sushi go-to for now (though we’re looking to replace it as the fish quality went down).

Avoid most all-you-can-eat places like the plague, unless it’s a salad bar. Even then, if you gravitate toward the breads and creamy soups like I do, just say no.

Places we love that are also pretty bad for us on any kind of regular basis: Rudy’s BBQ, Star Cinema Grill, Wine Tasting Room (large meat and cheese platters), anywhere Italian.

Being Active

We took up Krav Maga, which had us doing off and on rigorous exercise for an hour twice a week. That went on for about a year. After I broke my toe, we switched to a home exercise regimen.

Instead of home exercise equipment, we opted for DDR pads, and have been doing hour-long DDR sessions most mornings. After an hour long workout (25 songs on easy-to-medium levels) we each do 20 crunches and then Sergey does extra burpees or push-ups. As the crunches get easier for me, I will be adding five at a time. I’m up to 30 now. Crunches were initially added to help me maintain the muscles that hold up a weak place in my spine, however now it’s also a good end-workout routine. I cannot get through all this without frequent water breaks because I drip sweat, and Sergey turns into a waterfall.

Sergey has added about 3-5 extra mini-workouts (a set of pushups or burpees) sprinkled throughout the day.

Some days we go to a park in the morning and walk for 30-50 minutes instead of DDR. It’s less strenuous, but a nice change of pace and scenery.

Some days we go kayaking in a nearby waterway, which REALLY works the arm muscles that day, but it’s a fantastic workout. We keep saying we need to go more often, but often forget.

Failing

It’s going to happen. It’s going to feel miserable. Sometimes I have found myself up at three AM, unable to sleep, making myself another whole frozen pizza or eating all the spaghetti leftovers. Sometimes I can talk myself into something slightly better, like a bowl of oatmeal, but not often. Sometimes I’ll just mix white and brown sugar, butter, and raw oatmeal and eat this lump-of-barely-cookie-dough as is. Sometimes I come home from the grocery store with an entire round loaf of bakery bread and eat it, much to Sergey’s fascination and surprise. One time I scooped one out and filled it with clam chowder and ate my own homemade bread bowl. It was great. It was also way over my limit.

Sometimes “failing” is known and expected, like around the holidays or birthdays. It’s okay to celebrate. Food is a very social and emotional experience as well as a sustenance deal. Keep picking yourself back up and trying again.

Sergey, who is SUPER good at distilling core concepts, adds his own TLDR:

On Losing Weight

Dusty and I have both struggled with overeating. For me, there have been sad times when plowing through a huge meal may have been the happiest 20 minutes of my day, and it’s no surprise that I would resist any attempts to eliminate that. However, I’ve found that losing weight and getting healthier leads to better moods and reduces the frequency and severity of impulses to binge.

Whatever you do must be incorporated into your lifestyle—if you are “going on a diet,” then you are setting yourself up to fail. If certain behaviors become part of your ordinary day, and you maintain that for months at a time, it’s much more likely that you’ll be able to keep going.

The most important change I’ve made is limiting myself to 1 meal a day. After a short adjustment period, I feel only a little bit hungrier than I did with 2 meals a day while consuming half the calories. That meal should be a reasonably-sized meal (typically 800-1200 calories for men, 600-900 for women), not an extra-large one. If I get hungry again, I only allow myself some very low-calorie snacks like carrots, sugar snap peas, or tomatoes.

The second thing I did was institute a daily exercise program. Dusty and I start each morning with an hour of DDR when we can, and I stop what I’m doing every 3-5 hours to do a set of 20 burpees. As I gain strength, I plan to increase this number. We also go for walks or go kayaking when the weather and our moods allow. What’s most important is that you do something to get your heart racing and get sweaty, and that you do it every day.

The last thing I did was institute occasional 48-hour fasts. For example, I would have lunch on Monday and not eat again until lunch on Wednesday. If I have tea with light sugar during a fast, I only feel moderately hungrier than I would otherwise. It’s much more tolerable than I thought it would be. There is considerable research suggesting that intermittent fasting is good for you, and it can be a reasonable way to offset the binge you couldn’t resist having. It’s definitely a healthier approach than purging, which hurts both your body and your soul.

[graciebirdie]

It’s Christmas (almost) @thisdiscontentedwinter a gift for the amazing you! I hope you like Peter cooking! (also on ao3)

Peter didn’t consider it to be a character flaw that he was a man in his 30s who didn’t know how to cook. He had a few pretty good reasons why he’d never learned how before he’d reached his 30s after all.

Not the least of which being when he’d been a part of a pack he’d been regulated to hunter rather than chef. While usually hunter just meant he was the one who did most of the grocery shopping he did, occasionally, get to hunt down deer or rabbits for when they had special dinners. That was of course his favorite part of providing for the pack. One of the few times his propensity for violence was not only accepted but also praised.

Now he had been living by himself, surviving on take out and deli made meals.

This wouldn’t be a problem except he found he missed homemade meals with a ache he could physically feel behind his breast bone.

Now he only had two options on how to sooth this newest hurt: he could either ask one of his three pack members if they could cook a meal for him or he could learn to cook himself.

The answer was obvious without even calculating in the fact neither Cora nor Derek lived somewhere with a functioning oven.

So Peter bought a cookbook and figured since he wasn’t completely helpless he would be able to figure out one of the basics of adulthood.

It turned out Peter was terrible at cooking. He could make sandwiches or any kind of egg but anything more complicated than those he always managed to royally screw it up.

He didn’t even know what he was doing wrong that make his pot roast taste like char or his stir fry to be oily when he hadn’t even used oil.

After almost a month of failures he would have given up if it hadn’t started to turn into a point of pride. Stiles had brought roast beef sandwiches to one of the pack meets and he had proudly told everyone that he’d made the roast himself.

If Stiles, who oscillated between having the attention span of a gnat or hyper-focusing to the point of forgetting to breath, could make a truly delicious roast then so could Peter.

So he turned to his last resort: cooking blogs.

One google search for ‘how to actually cook and make it taste good’ later he’d gone through five different blog posts and only learned that for some reason bloggers really liked to talk about their kids and perfect lives. It would have been depressing if Peter actually cared.

After two hours of travelling through homebodies trying to convince him to make everything vegan he found a post titled “Recipes made easy for those who are lazy, have ADHD, no time or alternately too much time, know how to cook but want to learn new things, or people who think they can’t cook but are willing to give it a try.”

What a mouthful of a title that covered all the basics of people looking at cooking blogs.

The whole blog was written in run on sentences that somehow managed to be both amusing and informative, a very narrow line to walk.

Peter might have also fallen a little bit in love with the author who gave such informative tidbits as “Why spring for a colander when you could just slap the lid on a pot and up end it over the sink while praying you won’t drop it and/or burn yourself as you tilt the lid to strain out the water but not the noodles.” and “Seriously just toss all the shit into a crockpot and forget about it for 8 hours, except you probably won’t be able to because you’ll have to keep trying to remember if you actually turned the pot on or not. (I suggest setting up a live stream camera to be on the safe side.)”

Other than an obvious good sense of humor the writer didn’t give any personal information. No name or nickname. Even the profile picture was generic. Peter thought that little touch of mystery just added the the writer's personality.

The third time Peter made macaroni and cheese from scratch – “Just cook some plain old noodles and then toss in a bunch of different kinds of grated cheese and a couple of scoops of sour cream and a bit of crumbled bacon with a little pinch of salt and bake it in the oven for a bit and bam homemade mac and cheese that people will be amazed over.” – he was so proud of his creation he brought it to that night’s pack meeting.

He set the large casserole dish down on Derek’s ridiculous table that only Stiles ever actually used and pointedly ignored the stares everyone was giving him. He settled down in his chair – the one just off to the side of the stairs that faced the door and the whole of the open living room – and pulled out his phone to feigning nonchalance while he waited for the rest of the pack to ask what he thought he was doing.

Of course Stiles was the first one to speak up. “Oh!” he said, sounding excited. “Did you make a casserole?”

He leaned forward over the table to open the dish that had been, very conveniently, placed right in front of him.

Peter watched with a surprisingly strong sense of anticipation as he watched Stiles’ eyes widen and mouth drop open in surprise.

“Is this homemade macaroni and cheese?” he asked, excitement clear on his face.

Peter gave a vague hum of agreement. “I’m trying something new.”

Stiles sprung up away from the table and practically dashed into the kitchen. He came back out only a few seconds later with a paper plate in one hand a plastic fork in the other.

Peter supposed he should be grateful Stiles took out a portion instead of eating right out of his casserole dish.

Stiles scooped up a bite and managed to bring it all the way to his mouth before Scott stopped him with a strangled cry.

“Stiles! What are you doing?!” Scott yelled as he threw himself over the back of the couch he had been sitting on. He raced to Stiles and slapped the fork out of his before Stiles could get the bite into his mouth.

“What the fuck!” Stiles gasped, cradling his hand against his chest and staring at Scott in shock.

Peter found, much to his surprise, that he had both stood up and let his claws out without a thought. He took one long deep breath and slipped his claws away before sauntering over to the table.

He oh so casually leaned his against it, back to Stiles, crossed his arms over his chest and stared Scott down.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the front door slide open to let in Boyd and Erica. The both of them slipped past Scott and behind Peter to, no doubt, stand next to Stiles.

Stiles spluttered and yelled again. “Scott! Peter's not going to bring in poisoned food when most of you guys don't trust him!”

Scott glared darkly at Peter. “Yeah we don’t trust him because poisoning is exactly something he would do.”

“Well yeah.” Stiles said. Peter could practically see him shrug. “Of course Peter would poison someone. But he’s not going to use food to poison the pack.”

Erica snorted loudly and said “Yeah Peter’s devious but he’s not stupid.” there was a pause before she added with her mouth obviously full “And if you paid attention to anything you’d known this mac and cheese is not only totally poison free but also delicious.”

“Hey...” Stiles said sulkily. “That’s my fork.”

Scott’s self righteous expression was replaced with sour resignation. Peter gave him his best fake smile before turning his back on him to look at Erica, who was eating right out of the dish.

Boyd had found another fork somewhere and had stolen Stiles’ plate.

Stiles was glaring at the both of them and Peter felt oddly annoyed.

“You going to share?” he asked Erica who seemed to almost hunch over the dish.

She just smirked at him and pulled the dish even closer to her, effectively blocking anyone else from taking some.

He stared her down intently while Stiles made indignity noises.

Boyd, smart and dependable Boyd, held out his half full plate and a second fork for Stiles who gasped and smiled brightly before scooping up his own bite.

The loud almost pornographic moan took Peter off guard and the sudden quick shot of arousal he felt was even more surprising.

He heard Erica choking on a laugh and sent her his best blank look that the pack had long learned meant he was fighting back the urge to murder one of them.

Boyd, wise and quiet Boyd, had completely given up his plate to Stiles and had instead decided to try and distract Erica with an impromptu fork fight.

Stiles seemed to be having a small spiritual moment. “Do you know what tastes weirdly good in mac and cheese?” he asked suddenly.

“What?” Peter asked gamely.

“Tuna and Peas.”

Peter stared at him while Boyd and Erica made simultaneous noises of disgust.

Stiles shrugged apologetically. “It’s strangely hearty.”

Peter hummed in thought. He was certainly petty enough to make something that only Stiles would want to eat. It’s what everyone else deserved for being rude about Peter’s cooking.

~*~

“Chicken alfredo is so easy. Just cook those wormy noodles for a few minutes and toss in some canned alfredo sauce with baked chicken and bam! Food! Or if you want to get fancy pan fry the chicken before adding milk and actual heavy cream. But who really has time for that? (I do. I apparently.) Here’s how to do it the fancy way if you’re into that kind of thing.”

It continued to amuse Peter how the writer could give easy alternatives and complicated instructions for the same recipe.

His first two batches turned out tasting fine. Not amazing but certainly edible. It was vast improvement from where he started.

He felt an oddly strong urge to both thank the writer of the blog and get to know them better. A combination of emotions he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

This might not have been a problem for him if he didn’t have an strong suspicion he knew who the writer was.

Tiny hints here and there had given it away. He just had to get confirmation.

~*~

After a month of bringing in different dishes to pack meetings Peter had gotten a pretty good handle on Stiles’ likes and dislikes. Considering one of Stiles’ constant likes was Peter’s cooking in general he was confident in his welcome at Stiles’ apartment so long as he came bearing food.

Peter showed up right in time for dinner and Stiles blinked at him before letting him with only a “I’m not going to turn down your cooking, even if it is surprise cooking.”

Peter smirked at him as he made himself at home in Stiles’ tiny kitchen. The size of it certainly explained the latest post “How the hell are you supposed to get anything done in a 3 by 3 space: a photo tutorial by me, not a professional photographer.”

Peter had recognized the kitchen in the pictures from when he had helped Stiles move his (un)surprisingly large collection of kitchen gadgets.

“So what’s the occasion?” Stiles asked as he poked at the wax wrapped loaf of cheesy bread.

Now that Peter had gotten a better grip on cooking in general he had decided to try his hand at baking. He wasn’t very good at it yet but Stiles appreciated bread of all kinds and wouldn’t mind that it was a bit darker in some spots.

“Oh nothing too special.” he said casually. “I just noticed that your newest post got a million hits. Sounds like something that should be acknowledged.”

Stiles jumped and stared at Peter in shock for a moment before he relaxed again. He rubbed the back of his neck and gave Peter a slightly embarrassed smile.

“Why am I not actually surprised you know about that.” he said with a little laugh.

He turned back to the bread, pulling off a piece and inspecting it before spinning back to stare at Peter with huge eyes.

“Oh my god, did you get all those recipes from me?” he asked loudly, excitement obvious on his face.

“Well your instructions are very comprehensive.” Peter said with a casual shrug.

Stiles grinned at him, obviously pleased about Peter complimenting him.

“That’s a really fucking nice thing to say.” Stiles said, grin turning into a softer smile.

Peter shrugged again and turned to start pulling dishes down from the cupboard. “It’s just a fact.” he said casually.

Stiles laughed. “Whatever you say. So what you make me?”

~*~

Stuffed full of the potato soup and cheesy bread Peter was slouched down on the couch and making grocery lists on his phone. Stiles was curled up next to him, half leaning against Peter’s shoulder while half watching Leverage, half reading one of the books Peter had given him.

“Holy shit!” Stiles suddenly yelled.

Peter turned to look at him in interest.

“Are you courting me, Peter Hale?” Stiles asked eyes and mouth wide open in shock.

Peter blinked at him in genuine surprise for a moment before past behavior clicked together in his brain. He couldn’t stop himself from face palming.

Stiles laughed uproariously and leaned harder against.

“This is the best thing ever.” Stiles said breathlessly.

“Which part?” Peter asked through narrowed eyes.

Stiles grinned even harder at him and didn’t answer, just leaned forward to give Peter a soft kiss on the check.

“I’m going to milk the shit out of this.” Stiles said in amusement. "I can't believe I didn't realize sooner! You get so pissy when Erica steals food from me that it should have been obvious."

Peter supposed he kind of deserved that respond if he’d gone around trying to give gestures of romance through food and not even realizing it.

Peter raised his arm and Stiles instantly cuddled himself deeper into Peter’s side, tucking his face against the side of Peter’s neck.

“It’ll be nice not to be the one cooking all the time.” Stiles said quietly.

Peter felt a rush of protectiveness and fought a sneer at the thought of Stiles always having to be the one to talk care of himself.

He turned his head slightly and gave Stiles a light kiss on the temple. “Not just the cooking.” he promised softly and Stiles shivered against him.

Stiles took a long shuddering breath before fully melting against Peter.  “Yeah, sounds good.” he whispered and curled his hand into Peter’s.

Peter wasn’t quite sure how he’d managed to get him and Stiles to this point but there was no way in hell he was going to complain when Stiles was being so shockingly soft with him.

Peter decided that it was immensely satisfying to be the one Stiles felt was providing for him and let himself feel as protective and possessive as he wanted, secure in the knowledge that he had to be doing something right to have earned Stiles’ trust.

[some-cookie-crumbz]

i have a request! :3 hubby Keith taking care of sick Pidge (or vice versa bc i would love either scenario??)

I’m so friggin’ weak for Domestic!Kidge; especially when it’s Keith being the soft one! Hopefully this turned out as cute as I wanted~! x3

Most nights in their home were pretty quiet. They’d gethome, settle in, determine whose turn it was to make dinner, eat, and then continuetheir relaxing. It was shortly after dinner that Monday night, as he wasfinishing up the dishes, that she’d asked him if he’d mind making her a cup ofhot tea with honey in it. He had been a bit baffled, but she had insisted thatit was simply a matter of it being cold and the hot drink being a good way towarm herself back up.

Keith, however, suspected that it was something else.

He was much more attentive than most people would have givenhim credit for, but he’d noticed the little things. Pidge had been having moretrouble than usual getting up for work in the morning. Additionally, he’dnoticed her popping Advil pills and chugging water. She looked quite a bitpaler, too, and she had to clear her throat a bit between sentences.

Over the years, he’d caught on to the hints leading up towhen his wife was starting to come down with sickness.

"Are you getting sick?" He asked as he gently setthe cup down before her.

She looked up from her project and stared at him. "Whydo you ask?"

"Because you normally only want tea with honey whenyou're sick," He said with a small frown. He watched her take a quick sipand the immediate relief that flashed over her face. "Specifically,because it helps soothe your throat. And that's always how it starts for you.First your throat's a little scratchy; then you get a headache, right betweenyour eyes, but it always spreads; then you move on to sneezing, and then you gobelly up with all three and coughing fits."

"You're over thinking things," She mused, takinganother sip. She then set the cup down and lightly tapped the monitor of hercomputer. "Besides, I can't afford to get sick right now. I've got to havemy designs for these medical bots ready before the end of the week."

"Just because you can't afford to get sick," Hesaid, leaning one hip against her desk and opting against pointing out theindustrial-sized bag of cough drops in her laptop case, "doesn't mean youwon't. Just make sure you pace yourself and don't overdo it. I'm sure if youneed an extension, Commander Iverson can find a way to make it happen foryou."

"Well, if I simply get everything done on time, I won'thave to worry about asking for an extension. Simple as that," She saidwith a dismissive shrug before returning her attention to her work. “But thanksfor making me the tea. It’s really good.”

He chose not to pick the fight with her, but as the weekprogressed, it was clear she was coming down with something. Every night she’dask him to make her a cup of tea and he, because he knew she was a stubbornwoman and wouldn’t be so easily dissuaded. He loved that about her, butsometimes he wished she’d keep in mind how such an approach could bedetrimental to her health and well-being.

She started sneezing on Wednesday morning, but waved him offagain and set a box of tissues on her desk. He managed to convince her to takea few immune system boosters, but she still wouldn’t concede on simplyrequesting an extension to nip the cold in the bud. Then, Thursday morning, herheadaches had gotten significantly worse, and he could tell her fever wasrising as well.

By the time Friday rolled around, her project was completedand ready for submission, but it was clear that the cold had won.

"I don't know if I'm gonna be able to make it outalive, Kogane. If I die here, tell our puppers I loved them," She huffedout before erupting in a bout of rough, harsh coughing. Bae Bae and Cosmo werecurled up, snoozing at the foot of the bed. Bae Bae lifted her head and let outa quiet little whine, looking from Pidge to Keith, as if aware of her master’swords and asking for reassurance that she was just being dramatic.

He shook his head as he popped open the first aid kit andtook out a small thermometer. He popped one of the little plastic cases overthe actual testing portion, then held it towards Pidge. She didn’t fight takingit and tucking it under her tongue, coughing a bit but keeping her lips sealed."Hmm. Your most heart-wrenching sick bed speech yet. I'm impressed withthe technique," He teased, waiting for the machine to beep. Once it did,he carefully checked the little screen and hummed, removing the thermometerfrom her mouth. "Well, just as I thought."

"Tell it to me straight, doc; will I make it toChristmas?" She asked, moving to settle back down in the bed.

"You've got a pretty high fever. Stay here while I goget you some things, okay?" He said while clicking the plastic cover pieceinto the trash and returning the device to the kit.

"Wouldn't move if I could, sweetheart," Sheoffered with a hazy, amused smile before hunkering down for another coughingfit.

He headed out to the linen closet and grabbed a smallwashcloth before heading downstairs to the kitchen. He popped some bread in thetoaster. While that was heating up, he pulled out a little container of margarineand a carton of orange juice. He filled up a glass with juice, fished a packageof cold medicine from the medicine cabinet, and then headed back over to thetoaster just as it popped. He spread a small amount of the margarine on thetoast, cut it in half, put everything away, set the packaged medicine capsuleson the plate, and then grabbed the washcloth and cup of juice.

When he poked his head back into the room, Pidge had shiftedto curl in on herself on her side, body spasming with her attempts to keep hercoughing fits small. “Hey, do you think you can sit up?” He asked as heapproached, setting the plate and cup on the small bedside table to help her.

“It’s a bit of a struggle, but I can,” She managed to wheezeout. He reached over, offering her one of his arms to help hoist herself up,but she waved him off and scooted back and up.

“I made you some toast, since it’ll be light on yourstomach,” He explained, reaching back to reposition a pillow behind her formore support. He then picked the place back up and offered it to her. “And Iused the margarine instead of regular butter, since dairy isn’t always the bestthing to have when you’re sick.”

“You’re too kind,” She mused, taking a bite of the toast. Hewatched her as she nibbled at the toast, going slow and carefully. She hadn’texhibited any vomiting or complained about nausea, but he figured that makingthings that were lighter on the stomach was a safer bet. When she was halfwaydone, he offered her the juice. “Here, drink.”

She took the glass and chug about half of it before resumingeating. While she finished eating, he disappeared in to the adjacent bathroomto get the washcloth wet. Once it was wet enough that it’d stay cool and dampfor a decent amount of time without dripping everywhere, he headed back out. Pidgehad her head tipped back, sipping the juice again, and he noticed one of thepills he’d brought in with him in her hands. “Thank you,” She sighed as shetipped her head forward again.

“I thought you’d appreciate that,” He chuckled as sheplopped the other pill in her mouth and chased it down with the remaining swigof juice. Once she was done, he helped her slide back under the comforter. “Ibrought this for you, to help with the temperature thing.” He explained, gentlypushing her bangs back so he could settled the folded washcloth over herforehead.

She let out a small whine at the feeling, but didn’tprotest. He made sure that it was settled so that she could still see but thatit’d do its job of keeping her cooled off. She offered him a small smile as shenestled down into the blankets and pillows. He sat on the edge of the bedbeside her until she dozed off, occasionally moving the washcloth so he couldlightly stroke her flushed cheeks with the towel to help with the cool down.Right before he left the room, he got the cloth wet again so that it’d be finefor a while yet, then took the dishes out with him.

He headed back downstairs and set to work. He logged intoher laptop and double-checked her email to find a few from her boss, Admiral Sanchez, as well as Commander Iverson, askingwhere she was and how much longer she’d be. He responded on her behalf,explaining who he was and including the completed files for the medical botsshe’d finished up. Commander Iverson responded first, stating that if Pidge needed extra time off to recover, to let him know. Then, Admiral Sanchez sent a response thanking Keith for sending thefiles along and asking him to let Pidge know he hoped she felt better soon.

With that done, Keith headed to finish up some minimal housework tasks. He folded up a load of towels, tidied up the dishes in the sink,then settled in and watched a bit of television. Once it got close enough, hegot up and prepared a hot bowl of chicken noodle soup and some crackers forPidge, pouring another glass of juice for her as well. When he took them up,she was blinking groggily into the room, her attention shifting from her clockto him. Bae Bae had moved to lay along Pidge’s back while Cosmo had also movedcloser, draping himself across her calves. She looked between the two dogs andthen back up at him. “I’m trapped,” She croaked out, voice crackling from thecombination of sickness and disuse.

He chuckled and set the small tray on the bedside table. “Comeon, you two. I know you’re worried and sharing your love to help make her feelbetter, but she needs to eat some food,” He chided gently, reaching over tolightly nudge each dog. Cosmo lifted his head and just stared at Keith, almostseeming defiant, before letting out a small huff and jumping down. Bae Bae tooka bit more nudging to get off, to the point where Keith thought he’d have toactually lift her up, but she, too, got off. After a moment, she and Cosmowandered out of the room and headed for the stairs. Keith didn’t feel the needto follow them. If they needed to go outside, Cosmo would teleport them bothoutside on his own.

He then reached over and helped Pidge slide into an uprightposition again, removing the cloth from her forehead and setting it aside. “Thankyou,” She said softly.

He nodded as he grabbed the tray and set it across her lap. “It’sjust some soup, but I figure it’ll be good. Oh, and I went ahead and emailedyour completed files to Admiral Sanchez for you. He said that the designsshould be fine and he hopes you feel better,” He said.

She blinked a bit, the last vestiges of grogginess startingto dissipate, and the stared at him. “You did that for me?” She breathedquietly.

“Of course. You ran yourself into the ground getting itdone; I’m sure you’d be really upset if you didn’t even get it sent in on time,”He said with a small shrug. He had known there was no way she’d be able to getout of bed and, even if she tried, he’d be inclined to pushing her to stay inbed. She needed to get some rest so she could bounce back from the illness. Buthe also knew she’d be devastated if, because she was bed-bound, her projectwasn’t submitted on time.

She offered him a small smile, shifting a bit on the bed. “Canyou sit with me? I mean, you don’t have to lean super close or anything since Idoubt you want to get sick, too,” She mumbled, grabbing a cracker from the trayand gently crushing it into the soup.

He shifted to sit beside her, staying on top of the coversbut pressing his legs against hers. He also shifted so they were close enoughthat she could set her head on his shoulder if she decided. “You know it takesa lot more for me to get sick,” He pointed out.

“Keep bragging, Clark Kent. See where it gets you,” Shesaid, tone just the slightest bit playful under the rasp, before pausing tocough into her elbow. He reached back and gave her back a light pat, wanting tohelp ease her through it. She offered him a small wince one the fit hadsubsided. “You’re a sweetheart, you know that?”

“It’s not like you haven’t done the same for me before,” Hemused as she started to slurp down the soup. The medicine and rest were clearlyalready having a good impact for her, as even though it was still raspy, her voicewas a bit clearer now. Additionally, the coughing fits weren’t nearly assporadic as they’d been before.

“You’re a lot better at it than me, though,” She pointed outafter a few minutes. He paused and shifted, gently draping arm around her andresting his chin on top of her head. “You seem like a big, gruff, bad boy toneveryone else… When really you’re just a total sweetie.” She took another fewmouthfuls of soup in before sipping her juice, then looking up at himaffectionately. “If you’re this soft with me, I can’t imagine how soft you’d bewith a sick baby someday.”

He felt his cheeks flush a bit, but he tightened his gripand pulled her a little closer. How, indeed, he wondered.

[iotaarcane]

XnationalZ

BUSY BLOW TORCHING DABS

Door doesn’t open it glides on rails like the entrance impales tracks leave scabs

They pick at them like a flurry of energy inertly imperil and in peril while sterile the enemy isn’t at his post busy blow torching dabs

Laughing gas to a mass of brain cells that might as well been in cell or for sale to sell for the fact of not being usable like loud theater patrons at musical

Stomping footsteps upsets the stairwell, Hercule as security

picks you up and while airborne you get the farewell.

A good bye of sorts a great try physically the body with a little help contorts but spiritually its dormant in hibernation protected in a fort.  The outside winds set him to the maximum miles per hour bumping over the welts.   Swelling is mainstream never go underground.  A golf club waving at lightning

A day filled with bad decisions.   A perfect life a nocturnal health freak who is slowing dying because of the hours he choose to sleep.  North of the sauna lives out of water a piranha gills with chankla….  Flip flop the hip hop to this mantra….   They got Bin Laden but the tomatoes slices cut au gratin and their insides just by general principal all rotten every good deed all but forgotten.

They attempted because it looked great on camera to have caughten Sadam but the madam of the ministry secretly had  many a body double dangling feet from noose corpse of course wasn’t who they thought they had bad DNA tests fail when not given. You’ll just straight believe without any thought or thinking in a closed space trying to identify who is stinking. This planet in that galaxy is sinking below where it once orbited and your whole existence is defined of what you afforded how toxins are absorbed y’all point the finger iota morbid.

As blood dripping on everything like a loop of hemoglobin training goblins to run tasks on apps.  Hairless ape with only a little fur missing - hand and the wrist  slice is still fresh magenta pink placenta veiny underwent chef prep,  impractical to prevent a story to end like this begin as it went, we muster the emotion to climb street curb like step, tentacle suction cup girlfriend tales like cotton swab on bunny ear manifesto.  One piece bikini transacting - posts no bill.  Open register the creditor turned into a collector, an editorial of breadwinner meanwhile back in the western hemisphere sky is too clear - cuts retina sundries colander fluid filter an array of enemies attacked the command post.  The mid morning foray angrily adjusted.  You could totally notice the moment the ward went kaleidoscope twist 33 degree.  As the crow fly viewpoint saw the west wing extend and to what seems like an elbow bend but they aint drinking consuming much of nothing except orders from the chief who dictates the whereabouts and you gotta be down cannot have doubts they don’t come in shouts - illest hand signals in the game it’s an artistic beauty to see the tic for tac counterattack he who gets the most vagina must be the Mack.  Diesel easel drawer no undies they were left in dresser drawer and if it don’t work out oh no the lawyer is not pro bono yet the retainer fixed the teeth apprehended the beef no more issues.

Him whose piss poor planning continues will be facing the sultry seductress Miss Hughes 4 feet 6 shoes opposite of the elephant of Hindus infamous for the pop ins on miscues So real was breakfast cereal mammal sauce from cashews.   Nipple hula hoop sports car aficionado drop top in the coupe where they kept the chickens.   Jumpy trampoline mouth fortune reader foreseen vulgar obscene potty lips unclean that contingency of the attorney of where wonder land on a poca dot which marks the spot.  Accuracy solar hot, lift off broke apart space shuttle heat pads over hot not matter if they were chosen or not.  Nudity not as bad as could be frontal, wide opening little exit funnel so many come backs you can’t shoot down every rebuttal.  We double as secret agents where birds are fowl and flagrant evil as the vortex in control of this spaceship.  I got it plannded see use that ladder granted to climb into the zoo – carefully pinpoint were from the top we landed snag a handful thus huck right between their eyes candid close to the nose as possible rancid so they go crazy - ape shit

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++NOTHING and LIKE it

You’ll get nothing and like it. No matter how much you despite it.

Like you wanted that new whip but you were too good for the bus so you bike it. 

Like it ever mattered – your best bud did the same inebriated on the way home dump truck made him splattered we identified the body basically because only thing left the t-shirt he wore that night tattered.   I want a hamburger – with a vegan patty in the current state of Armageddon it doesn’t look good brethren Xnational that’s why I rock the same hairdo as a Tibetan.  No a cheese burger yall overreacting on this meat is murder so is a relentless ethic of work especially when exhausted and it hurt. We’ve been threatened by a heavy weapon.  I was reading about Reagan and outline seems Pagan that’s as good for you as dippin Copenhagen spittin telling the surgeon do not beckon the question I love when my gummies are redden.  Cancer of the embouchure is more than a Horoscope sign I concur.   I want a hot dog.  Smothered in mustard covered in meat trimmings ground up chemicals as the fixings.  Bought my rhymes with a great bargain from Groupon.  Even added a discount photoshopped counterfeit coupon. Creating to the beat the loops on.  I don’t know is a Bentley a Rolls Royce because in the back seat the window lowered and I was offered grey poupon do you happen to have another choice.  Already had condiments on my weenie.  Get off my computer don’t you dare peep my documents.  My sentiments exactly the conference in regards to arguments approximates Many inter-nationalities at least 3 continents. Ancestor occupants with these words I’m a biochemist marketing guerrillas in the midst of this mist.  We the tapestry of ornaments via the internets correspondents it’s like I’m studied on my own no paperwork to show my doctorate of rocking it.  I want a milkshake mixed extra thick so it actually improves my life.  Massacre in the streets.  Soul gets fasten to the beats.  Emotion in a drum pattern.  Puts the spirit at ease changes lives makes memories.  We reminisce lacking candor look back in retrospect kinesis situational intensity convince myths as the centripetal force drifts making you cause conflicts with the dame you caressed whose early departure has you dismissed flailing arms is a fit temper tantrum get nothing and like it anthem in this for the marathon and beyond whereupon such a large portion of our population is related to Genghis Khan.  What was going on?  Mating a savage motivation bondage of ancestral astral projections.  In a succession of going with aggression. Talking too much now I’m a witness to this confession.  I didn’t want to know that nor should you want to share it - in your heart bear with it. I need to check up on what era that was. I want potato chips crisper than a whisper in a dark room embracing solitude twiddling a whisker brisker than podcast radio transistor, he was very bad only did one movie but he was a fister, turned that lifestyle around and became a wonderful listener, except after he kissed her, she fiddled his zipper, polished half handle of liquor, hand cuffs cutoff circulation like a prisoner, as she moved towards his waistline she announced OK noodle, his phone screen lit up he couldn’t get up - his unit wouldn’t get up, Here is the kicker, she addressed yours is so much pinker, than red shade of a swisher, Oh yes it is sir right when she was about to go to town cell phone screen with the rear camera face down accessed a video Oh yes Mister Fisher.  Vid featuring a debutante with oily wrist smash grab a sphincter.   Homegirl peeped it out the corner of her eye.  Jeez Louise Guy, you think she liked it, those are screams of terror why did you video tape and mic it?  Payback is real He said no no stop she said you will get nothing and like it.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Bloop Didn't Match Bleep

Flat line monitor they filed with the manufacturer to get truth because bloop didn’t match bleep

Was she dead or deep asleep it takes a large leap of courage to surpass milestones when laid out flat on  back thick as a board bright as feather totally do laps passing my stone counting per mile our style lashes out flashes of the bang - boom go sky.  They hope when it’s over something changes dramatically like a star fall macho man bar brawl telekinetic script to anyone one whom you bonded importance of existence is something you cannot deny.  

Fly by the seat of pants, advance like cash flow, difficult to rap slow, I wanna run it like you need it get roller pinned and kneaded, Hebrew jui-jitsu submission look at what his knee did.  Star of David on his playlist we turning off tech on Satur no matter bribery or how you flatter your condolences belated along with ski masks raided should of seen them coming the porch was shaded driveway isolated doctrine confirmed over something we traded urine peptide beaker foggy but perplex this –  His best amigo did too much acid like amino so when he was at cathouse heard a whore moan he could only cognate behavior to influence mood balanced hormone as the counterpoint feline payment never transacted fee to wait in line.   What skill or excellences are you pursuing how can you portray without any cueing.  Hit your marks.  Spit in pitch black fire mouth out sparks.  

It’s your energy that relay tend to take opposition and sway.  Assists their dishin’ drug addicts spinning to get spun on a mission in addition to addiction they act like they don’t lie this is no audition you’re grown why you want permission to ruin your life You see in LA a Bruin cub a forty niner in Long Beach data gets scrubbed unit information placed out of reach.   Look what the cat drug in, breeze blew in you could have been somebody a shoo in.  Migrated to Peru in a mobile pyramid amongst doubters, its like the shouters are first with inside out lower lip pouters claim to be ballers all they are is browsers knickerbockers shirtless with trousers waving a give me a freebie voucher so I roll with moon howlers now does this overwhelm like towers stimulates give us powers of the third kind and our encounters.  

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Gun Laws

-  No fun wit dem laws especially when encountering rough edges grainy surface with gun laws

-  The cause is mass hysteria because amendments put both sides into a predicament

-  Wing of the Eagle into action Xnational Activist after a sour apple up spring the people Active Fist raised above the forehead concurrently nobody wants more dead.

-  Not even the gunman but what about that run in my states Capitol Sacramento

-  Odd… Cell phone is not a weapon 20 trigger pulls the Police can act like a beast, On tempo protest Florida mad man rampaged blood everywhere escorted in handcuffs away facial expression wonder struck departed campus quad

-  Dem our rights in dat bill but that bill was proclaimed before our land fell ill Overdose of fluoride oxygen intoxicants horrible supplements processed food and diabetes from too much sugar in condiments

-  Now to fix your country don’t be chicken like poultry spend love to arrange a redeeming elixir

- This is precise calculation when you are overcrowded too many people in population the hypertension trying to keep up with what you commercially demonstrating sort of like an exchange of demon trading evil for evil soul grasp tool sickle--- Concise to arbitration overcrowded too many people in population the hypertension trying to keep up with what you commercially demonstrating sort of like is regal viper fang retention seek help contemplating like gleaming shovel off moonshine fickle.  

-  Everything even your status is the status materialism is the apparatus zero the sum on the abacus but yet the ability to function not be bullied or tempted to destroy yourself or others can be uncontrollable

-  Mental health doesn’t have a look so why they judge based on the cover texture ink print of book

-  No civilian needs an automatic machine gun.  Home protection can be accomplished with 20 gauge is plenty.  

- There are more guns in the US than people.  So agree with March for our lives.  I disagree with anything I’m not feeling and if we all could be a Democracy and meet in the middle we all should be fine with the compromise.

- First person liver body organ problem corking, ostrich keeping dome piece dipped into land chunks hoping not to get things out of proportion

-  News was sidetracked Porn Star had protection less sex with President along with a dry cleaner hanger abortion clinic minute men attacking those who look immigrated

- It’s a circle of blood you been initiated.  We do not exist in a dystopia but these large organizations can paint whatever portrait they want to fit into an agenda

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++You Can Be Anything

You are where you at in fact you could go where you want to be and you can be anything

So easy to feel like nothing complain and become doubtful with a mouthful of evil they walk in a horrible path of negativity and self-destruction same time place continuum hurting others while they just trying to get through the same as you do.  What is this reasoning?  Who created the outline?  Why if I don’t play ball can’t I get a pass down on the baseline? Appeasing you either got to be a mover and shaker or to the sideline your thrown and labeled a space waster.  Money identifies so much.  Status class how your friends and family eat continuous and fast.  Totally empty posthumous till those on top of the power structure find those beneath humorous.  Better teeth greater smile success is subjective.  I took the elective to be me why don’t you be you. Underneath all the bogus ideas and understandings  I breathe near the 14th of the month only to inhale and not exhale for another 30.  If you do business justified you can really be wealthy if you lied play dirty. Landing around the 5th I derail in a matter of moments look sick and pale living again for less than allowed.  Now the natural lines in my face is  scowled. I want to be an xnational not into whats in or rational I’ve never admired reality TV or what is force fed to me. The world is very fluid with whats not allowed how you make your bread and weather you get a box or become dust when dead.  They never said it would be like this but they never stated it wouldn’t or couldn’t I’m tired of the chosen getting a vote I never balloted giving me basically 2 options on major decisions unanimously untalented more than perfected for the future while living slithering past the masses until something so major happens to a loved one a ugly ungloved one frozen in the headline archived content someplace indefinite it is about time.  Dig through scorched Earth.   Charred ground far fewer giblets in the stew to see self in mirror the spoon is wooden and sipping left a splinter too difficult to survive this nuclear winter.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++To Get Bye

Chatted with an annoying carcass inverted in Caracas on an apparatus and we agreed about this

You’re all I need to get buy

-  The voice don’t know but like a bass line I record in mono Remember before I kissed a girl I got mononucleosis and this in general gave me a neurosis if I haven’t kissed how the heck did I get mono

-  Punctuality arriving pronto seconds click nimble with the fingertips pulling a combo characterized in metabolic state ketosis

-  Fasting near or around roses favorite floral Lotus.  To get by stay fly no aeronautics my aerobics consists of verbal trampoline pounce the guardrail carine upon the jet strip Don’t Trip.

-  Landing gear engaged to get by clearance from the air traffic controller, just this style is me high roller tip toeing soldier avoiding ebola maintain employment meeting or exceeding quota.

-  To get buy you need straight cash homie loads and loaves of bread cheddar or whatever Hamilton greenbacks, paper guap of franklin will do

-  To get by Your Blessing will be thee necessity sky beautiful.   Open heart to keep it plain and simple more than the crease unfolding the ripple

-  To get by clean water fresh air healthy food the ability to create mobility infinitely friends family meditation agility stretching.

-  Concept of these scriptures stacks all the to the back of literature willingness be the finesse all this and that’s success

-  To get by why try easier to complain make it artificial cause others through the tidal waves stress and strain

- Sitting on your knees sneaker heels tap the back of your button ups Long Barrel at temple.  Imagine the thoughts before you’re executed.   That process of it’s over.  Can you fanaggle?   Use communication for survival last chance come at them sideways like a tooth that snaggle

-  This snag will either end your current existence begin into a newish dimension an entrance how did these doors swing open? Never let them see you moping. Laugh in the face danger many elements to this for coping.

-   Change is a guarantee and you can’t get much of anything so constant.  Who can adapt the fastest?   Chip up as soon as society is cashless.  Global position the system while mapless.  I’m going to flow more rap less.

-  Concubine colorful sword edge dull, The Ktown market I copped it at in the China shop bull.     Tea party porcelain porcupine alarm module.

-  iota needs some soda caramel color cola so the bubbles can fix my upset tummy stay scummy my friend is a sin and not funny Lowest on totem pole that explains the mischievous grin

-  Never find work attitude be the jerk stay going bizerk at the store with the clerk make it impossible for them to accomplish the mish undertone a smirk relentless and abscessed until they fail find out it all evolved from silly little games your repercussions wrong answer given to test

-   Well rounded knew how art felt, Chemicals were spilt and the fumes of the 2nd story would melt.  Heartfelt never dealt a hand like that patience is all precious up til you are the doctors patients and he truly evil terrorize a boll weevil wore wild long tail lab coat crazy colors of crayon except no cotton all rayon and he would lay on the guilt deprive of medication till the truly ugly wanted to be killed subconsciously the whispers You’re all I need to get by…..

[ncstings]

🎀  :   your  muse  brushes  my  muse’s  hair . zebby & elijah

“i’m not always good at making dinner so i got take out but i mainly wanted you over because i tried baking a cake and i need someone to taste it.” zebby speaks with her head in the fridge, taking out the cake tray and putting it onto the counter beside the food.

the cake look good, aesthetically speaking. it was lemon bunt or something, with the thin kind of icing that was poured over the top.

“well it looks great.” elijah stands beside her, arms cross over his chest. “i can’t wait to eat it.” he looks down at her, smiling. “is that the surprise you were texting me about.”

oh. she’d forgotten about that. not that she’d forgotten about the surprise, but that she told him. “yes and no.” she shrugs, her finger gliding over the drawer with the pink sticker over it, then moving to the one beside it with the green. she pulls it open and takes out the utensils. “there’s some drinks in the fridge if you want to grab them.”

he moves around her, right as she starts carrying the food over to the table. “do i get to know what else there is in store for me?” he calls out as she leaves the room.

“no!” she says back. she steps around winnie who is sniffing curiously at her food. she gives him a gentle swat and a command to lay down. he follows, and finds his typical spot on the edge of the couch.

elijah meets her there seconds later, the cake tray in one hand, and the two drinks in the other. “these were the drinks we had at that party, right?” he placed them down on the table. “you went through like four of these.” he laughs.

“they were really good, i wanted some myself.” she blushes, bringing her shoulders to her ears.

“it was cute, i promise.” he explains. “that drive back you kept singing a song that wasn’t even playing on the radio and i’d never even heard it before. then it was almost physically impossible to get you to let go of me when i walked you to your door.”

“oh.” she chuckles. there was absolutely no way she’d remembered any of that. “i’m sorry.”

“i had no idea how strong you were. i almost stayed but i said something about work and you pouted a bit and i might have made you cry so i should be the one saying sorry.” he gives a crooked smile.

they both take their seat at her table and she blushes even more. it all seems pretty likely for her, so she’s not too surprised by everything he’s saying. she just feels bad he had to deal with it. “i’m really sorry you had to see me like that, elijah.”

he snorts, shaking his head. “zebby, i’ve had girls get drunk and throw things at me, or threaten to set my car on fire. having you huge me and sing cute little songs was probably the easiest thing in the world. besides, i called you the second i got home and talked to you until you fell asleep, i think you felt much better about that.”

“you did?” her eyes widen.

he reaches to grab the box of food and started serving himself, only then to serve her a portion of the food as well. “yeah, i knew you didn’t want to be alone so i wasn’t going to let my girl be alone longer than she had to be.”

every time he called her that her body got warm and she sunk down in her chair a little bit, looking between him, and his hands dishing them both dinner. “you’re a kind person.”

“no i think i’m just stupidly into you.” he looks at her, licking the sauce off his thumb as he sits back. “now eat, i want to try your cake.” he nods, digging into his own food.

it’s hard not to stare at him when she does. she sits back in her chairs and pulls her knees to her chest with her plate held in her hand. she eats slow, but mainly because she’s waiting to see if he’s going to say anything else. if he has any other plans to say words that will make her mind spin. when they’re half way through their plates, she decides to speak up.

“i.. i haven’t really dated before.” she says quietly.

he looks up from his plate, and over to her. “i know.” he nods.

“but like---...” she pauses, her fork dancing around her noodles. “i’m not used to this. this level of kindness.”

elijah takes a moment of looking over at her before he sets his fork down and twists his torso in her direction. “no one’s ever been in love with you?”

it feels like his eyes and burning into her and it’s too hot and too real and she looks down at her plate which sits on her knees and her lips twist and she shrugs because she’s not really sure. “people have treated me nice but not like this.”

he lets out a heavy breath from between his lips, shaking his head. she looks up now that he’s not looking at her and her eyes go wide. “is that bad?”

there’s a split second where his jaw tightens and he holds himself still, looking at the cake. “you are an unreal kind of person. i don’t know how anyone could have overlooked you.” she still can’t tell if she’s done something wrong or not. “i have no idea why i’m not fighting with half the goddamn city to be with you.”

“i’m confused.” she pulls her eyebrows together. “are you mad at me?”

his head snaps to her and it’s like he’s pulled out of his mood. “no--- fuck no. zebby---” he reaches over and puts his hand on her leg. “you have no idea what you’ve done to me. in a good way. it just makes me sad and angry knowing i’m the first to treat you like this.”

he’s moved in closer to her, his face not far from her’s, but she still looks over him, and the discontent on his face. “it’s taken me a long time to be this person.” she sets her plate back onto the table and rests her chin on her knee, their faces only inches apart. “and i always had kerm and atlas. they’ve given me so much love.”

he sighs, his hand moving to brush back her hair. “i know. you’ve just deserved better.”

she smiles, her fingers coming up to his face, her fingers pressed to his beard. “i deserve you, though.” she watches as he moves his head to kiss her wrist. “can we finish eating though? the cake will make you feel better.”

he pulls back, nodding his head. “yes, the cake.”

they do finish eating, and once that’s done, elijah moves their plates to the sink and grabs fresh ones, with a knife to cut them slices. he cuts them each a slice and sits back down, sliding one in front of her and taking no time to dig into it.

she knows she’s don’t right because he moans when he takes his first bite. his lashes flutter a bit and she grins, taking a bite for herself. it was pretty good, so she’ll have to keep the recipe and use it again.

“this might be my favorite thing you’ve made.” he looks over at her with a mouthful.

“we don’t need to be that bold.” she chuckles. “i could never make anything better than my brownies.”

“you might have, babe.” he nods, looking down at the cake. “as number one fan to your brownies, i might say they’ve been beat.”

she shakes her head, taking another bite. she liked the cake but she didn’t think it was that good. but fine. sure. “give me a moment.” she holds up a finger and goes back to the kitchen. going into the drawer with the blue sticker she finds the recipe card with the cake on. grabbing the pen, she writes in the corner ‘elijah’s favorite’. she wants to remember, just in case there’s a day she needs it for him.

“can i take some home?” he says as she comes back to the table.

“yeah.” she says, standing next to him. her fingers run through his hair and his arm wraps around her thighs. normally she can’t even reach the top of his head when he’s standing, so she likes when he’s sitting, and she can get her fingers on him. “i’ll box some up for you later.”

“i was going to have seconds.” he looks up at her with a bit of a pout.

she shakes her head, her finger trailing down his nose. she takes hold of his arm and gives him a gentle tug to get him out of the chair. without comment, he does so, and she takes him by the hand and leads him to her bedroom, closing the door behind them.

“sit down, please.” she says quietly, moving towards her closet. she slides the door and takes out a small box. when she turns around, she sees that he’s followed.

“is this my second surprise?”

she nods, putting the box next to him. he looks down, his hand reaching to grab it. “not yet.” she bites her lip. he looks back up at her, hands resting on his thighs.

“i have a friend in manhattan.” she says slowly, slower than her words normally come out. her finger starts to dug at the hem of her dress. “they sew things.”

“that’s cool.” he nods, carefully watching her.

“and i always wanted to buy one of their sets but never really had much reason to but i was talking to them and we ended up talking about you and then we were talking about the things i like and then---”

“zebs, you’re rambling.” he smirks, “what is it, i’m dyin’ here.”

“oh,” she swallows, and finally just pulls her dress over her head, letting it drop to the floor.

looking at elijah, she sees the way his eyes grow big and he scans over every bit of her. the way the lace travels over her body, the dark rec contrasted on her skin. he always said she wore cute underwear but this wasn’t that. she was there with the red lace, the garter belts, the stockings. she tried not to laugh when he came in and said something about never seeing her in tights. she just said she was cold. now he got to see. paired with the bra that did wonders for her breast.

“it was custom made for me. they said they wanted me to look as freaky fiery on the outside as i am on the inside.”

he chokes a bit, and has to shake his head. “i’m having a hard time thinking right now.” his words come out a bit like a croak and she can’t help but smirk.

she takes a step forward, and his hand reaches up slowly, aiming to grab her thigh but she swats him away before he gets the chance. “not yet.” taking the box in her hand, she holds it out to him. “they made me this with it. for the sake of your ties, i can’t keep asking you to bring them over.”

he raises an eyebrow, and then takes the box in his hand. he lifts the lid and there’s a small noise of curiosity. his fingers take hold of the long silky fabric. a shade to match her set perfectly. “you have a good friend.”

“it’s a whole set. there’s four in there.” there’s a small tint of excitement in her words. she was always one to figure these things out as she went along. as he knew well, by her random asks for ties.

he looks up at her, setting the box aside. “i don’t really want to take this off of you.” his eyes continue drinking her up.

she steps closer, and then his knees pull apart and she steps even closer, his hands moving to touch the fabric, and the exposed skin on her body. “then it hasn’t done it’s job good enough.”

“i think it’s doing it a little too well. turn around for me.” he says quickly, grabbing her by the waist and spinning her. it’s hard not to grin when she hears the sound behind him, his hand running over her bare ass. “fuck, zebby, this is...”

“a good surprise?” she looks behind her.

“i don’t think i’ve ever had a better one.” he chokes out a laugh, hand going up her back over her shoulder, the other wrapping around her waist. “sit down.” he places her on his lap, and kisses behind her head. “you feel me already?”

she nods, a hand reaching behind him to thread through his hair. his other hand reaching up over her stomach, and over her breast. her took her skin between his teeth and bit hard, making her moan. “you want to give your ribbon a try?”

she nods, sighing when his tongue soothes over the part he just sunk his teeth into.

“hands behind your back.” he commands. she does as followed, sitting forward on his lap as he grabs to take one of the ribbons from the box and begins tying it around her wrists. “too tight?” he says, a comforting hand on her thigh.

“it’s good.” she nods.

then he tells her to stand. he says something about making sure she gets her money’s worth and she’s not really thinking much anymore when he’s bent down, lips trailing over her waist, her stomach, her hips, her thighs. he slowly begins to unclasp the stockings, slowly moving them down her legs. her fingers twitch and she knows he likes watching her squirm like that.

she steps out of the stockings when he slides them down. his hands run up each of her legs, the feeling of his beard against her skin making her mewl. but he come up to slide off the garter at her waist. his fingers take their time, and he looks up at her with a smirk that tells her his mind is wandering to all sorts of places. that he’s got plans for her.

he takes his time getting her undressed. his lips brush over her core at one point, tongue darting out over her heat and making her cry at the tease. he tells her she’s being such a good girl. her wrists wiggle but he’s good at tying her so she wont slip out. even standing, she writhes from his touches. her knees tremble when his fingers touch her over the fabric. he knows he can’t do much like that. not without her legs giving in.

when he removes everything, she sets it careful on the ground. a moment of separation from the act when she looks at him tenderly, thankful that even in lust, he wasn’t going to ruin her brand new garment. and he knows the look, and mutters something about definitely needing them again someday. and then he’s standing to his full height, towering over her and her nearly bare body.

“i realized now that you’re tired i can’t take your bra off.” he gives her a sheepish smile.

she laughs, leaning forward to press her face into his chest. it’s a good laugh. a deep one. and she feels the rumble from his own deep laughter, his fingers running through her hair. it’s a moment where they break away from the tension of the room. they let their laughter die naturally before she leans back, giving him her big eyes.

“guess i don’t really need them off with what i have planned.” he smirks, peeling his shirt off his back and tossing it on the ground. “on your stomach.” he orders her again, and she does as follows.

he knows how to be rough in all the right ways. when he came behind her and ran his hands over her skin, feeling her between her folds and cursing. then when he finally pushed inside her, grunting and reaching to grab a fistful of hair, tugging on it tight. she’d gasp and whimper and beg. her legs with shakes and the ache in her shoulders from the position wouldn’t be unnoticed but damn if it didn’t feel good like this.

her fingers would clench and unclench, missing the ability to grab or scratch or twist in something. but the restriction only turned her on more. he said his dirty things and she begged even more. he’d tug on her hair again and her body would pull in ways it didn’t often. she’d tell him she needed more. begged him to let her come. he was relentless and he knew just how to touch her, to fuck her, to get her to scream. the kind of scream she knows drives him crazy. because he wasn’t long after her, that she felt his hips grow unsteady, and he bent over her, hand pressing into the mattress as he came.

when he pulled out, she flipped over and looked up at him. “come on baby, let me untie you.” he grabs the back of her knee, and she does as follows. the ribbon gets tossed aside and she shakes out her wrists. with her legs tucked under her, she looks up at him. “god you look good after i fuck you.”

“what did you do to my hair?” she cuts off, her hand reaching up to touch the back of her head.

his eyebrows raise and he gets onto the bed, looking at her head, his hand touching with her. “what do you mean?”

“it’s all ratted.” she whimpers. “you gotta be careful when you pull, or it gets all messy.” she slouches.

“hold on.” he gets up from the bed and walks to her dresser to grab her brush. he comes back around the bed, sitting back towards the headboard under the covers. “come on.” he pats the spot next to him.

she follows, slipping under the blanket and sitting next to him. “be gentle.” she says quietly.

“i would never dream of hurting you.”

and sure enough, he’s extremely gentle working through the knots in her hair. she sits with her hands in her lap, eyes closing as she feels him work. she hums, leaning back a bit as he does his work. “you can keep messing up my hair if you brush it out like this.”

he chuckles, working the brush through again. “sounds good.”

she hums again, keeping her eyes down. “elijah?”

“yeah.”

“you know i am also stupidly into you, right?” the words come out a bit uneasy, her fingers playing with each other like she’s nervous to say.

there’s a pause from the movement with the brush, and she then feels his lips on her shoulder. his knuckles brush up over her arm.

“you can take the rest of the cake home with you. maybe if you wanna be nice you can share with the guys at work.” she smiles, looking down at his face beside her’s.

“i’m not going to be nice.” he shakes his head.

she looks ahead. “then i’ll have to bake cookies and bring them by. they should have a nice treat.”

“they’d like that.” he nods, pressing his temple to her shoulder as he looks up at her. her hair’s brushed enough that her can comb his fingers through it. “thank you for the surprises.”

“you’re very welcome.” she smiles, a blush running across her face. “if this is how my surprises turn out i’ll have to do it more often.”

she feels a pinch on her side and yelps. “stop, you knew exactly how this was going to end.” he grins, pinching her side again so she flinches.

“stop!” she whines, though it’s mixed with laughter. “okay okay, i knew exactly what i was doing.”

he finally stops, letting his hand rub over her side. “good. but you can totally do it again.” he grins, kissing her shoulder.

[josephkitchen0]

How to Make Mozzarella Cheese in Seven Easy Steps

You can learn how to make mozzarella cheese, start to finish, within thirty minutes. It’s so easy you can do it while crafting the rest of your dinner.

When I learned how to make mozzarella cheese, I had no idea I’d be starting an addictive legacy with my daughter. Either she warms the milk and adds rennet, stretching curd to make cheese, while I knead and rise the pizza crust, or I’ll craft mozzarella while she slices and roasts eggplant and simmers garden marinara, making ricotta cheese to layer between.

Because making mozzarella cheese is that easy. If you keep key ingredients on hand, it can be as spontaneous as craving cheese, pulling milk from the fridge, and whipping it up before the hour is over.

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Simple mozzarella ingredients are:

One gallon whole milk, not ultra-pasteurized

½ tablespoon citric acid or 1/3 cup lemon juice

¼ tablet or ¼ teaspoon cheese making rennet

½ cup cold water

Necessary equipment includes a pot holding at least a gallon, dairy thermometer, slotted spoon, colander and cheesecloth, microwave-safe bowl, and the microwave itself.

The milk: Use whole milk. Because cheese is composed of curdled proteins and butterfat, two percent milk produces half the cheese as 4 four percent. A gallon of each costs about the same. So, get the most for your money and buy milk with high-fat content. Raw milk is fine, as is pasteurized. But do not use ultra-pasteurized (UP) or heat-treated (HT) milk because it will not curdle. If you purchased UP milk, either drink it or learn how to make yogurt from scratch and use it for that. UP milk cultures just fine.

The citric acid: I learned how to make mozzarella cheese using citric acid but reworked the recipe for my sister, who is allergic to corn. Acid makes proteins curdle, so citric acid, distilled vinegar, and lemon juice are all fine. But in the United States, the citric acid and distilled vinegar are both made with corn. It’s nice to have alternatives when serving loved ones with allergies.

The rennet: Purchase cheese making rennet; types intended for custards and desserts are not strong enough. Good rennets can be found online or in brewing supply stores, and tablets work just as well as liquid. If you’re just learning how to make mozzarella cheese, purchase tablets because unused portions can be frozen between cheese making adventures. I prefer liquid; it’s great if you know you’ll use it all before it expires.

The water: Yes, that matters too. Chlorine and heavy metals interfere with curdling so bottled or distilled water are best.

These ingredients are for cow milk mozzarella. Making goat cheese mozzarella also involves thermophilic starter culture to help curdle proteins. That recipe can be found in Ricki Carroll’s Home Cheese Making book.

Photo by Shelley DeDauw

How to Make Mozzarella Cheese

When I make pizza, I mix and kneed the crust first then put it in to rise. Then I start making cheese. By the time my mozzarella chills in the refrigerator and I’ve mixed up a sauce, the crust is ready to roll. Chilling mozzarella makes it easy to slice into perfect pizza-topping coins.

Got your ingredients? Your equipment? Ok, start your timer!

Step 1: Warm milk within the pot, over medium-low heat. Stir occasionally to avoid scalding. At the same time, separate water into two separate ¼-cup containers. Dissolve citric acid or lemon juice in one and rennet in the other. If rennet tablets don’t fully dissolve, don’t worry.

Step 2: When the milk registers 55 degrees on the dairy thermometer, add the mixture of citric acid and water. Stir gently. As heat climbs, you’ll see the liquid attain a grainy texture as proteins curdle.

Step 3: When the milk registers 88 degrees on the dairy thermometer, add the mixture of rennet and water. Stir gently. Now, as heat climbs, you’ll see those small grains change into larger, rubbery curds surrounded by yellowish whey.

Step 4: When the milk registers just over 100 degrees, either lift curds from the whey with a slotted spoon or line a colander with cheesecloth and strain curds into a sink.* Collect curds in the microwave-safe bowl.

(*Author’s note: My tomatoes love the whey from my mozzarella. My soil is naturally so alkaline that pouring whey directly beneath plants lowers the pH to a level nightshades prefer. I place a colander over another pot to strain my curds, so I catch every drop of precious liquid. My chickens also crave this protein-rich drink.)

Step 5: Microwave curds for 30 seconds. Squeeze off excess whey and heat again. Carefully, because this can get hot, lift curds and stretch them like taffy, pulling and folding over then stretching again. If curds start to break instead of stretch, return to the bowl and heat another 15 to 30 seconds. Do this four or five times, creating a smooth and elastic product.

Step 6: Salt to taste (I like about a tablespoon per pound of cheese) then heat and stretch one more time to mix it in. Don’t add salt before this point because it can affect stretch.

Step 7: Time to finish it off. How do you like your mozzarella? Separated into three equal portions then heated and stretched so you can braid it? Rolled in little balls and marinated in herbed oil? Or squeezed into one tight ball so you can slice or grate it later? Either way, work it while it’s hot then cool it down. Immerse mozzarella balls in ice water if you wish to use them immediately. Or wrap in plastic and chill in the refrigerator.

Photo by Shelley DeDauw

A Note about Real Mozzarella

If you’re just learning how to make mozzarella cheese, you may be surprised to find that your finished product does not melt. It stretches. This can be delectable on paninis but an unexpected challenge for macaroni and cheese. Instead of being disappointed, rethink your food’s form. Slice mozzarella into little “coins” to alternate with heirloom tomato rounds on a margherita pizza. Shave narrow slivers to stack over lasagna noodles. Use chopped mozzarella bits on top of pasta, providing texture, rather than melting into the noodles.

Do you know how to make mozzarella cheese? If so, let us know your favorite uses, plus tips and tricks in the comments below.

How to Make Mozzarella Cheese in Seven Easy Steps was originally posted by All About Chickens