Me, after forgetting to cut the top off an onion before dicing it: “Aw dammit”
The Gordon Ramsey that lives in my head: “Don’t worry there, this mistake isn’t going to ruin anything. No need to be too hard on yourself”
Me: “Wow, that’s…not what I was expecting”
Gordon: “Of course, you ought to know by now that I don’t shout at cooks just to do so. I do it because the people in hit television show Kitchen Nightmares are putting their services out into the public and claim to be good enough to have the title of head chef. You’re just some guy in your twenties making beef stroganoff for yourself and your roommate. I’m kind of a dick, yeah, but I’m not gonna scream at you for a minor mistake like this”
Me: “Oh….well…thanks”
Gordon: “You’re welcome…cunt…”
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REACTION SPEED [Heroic: failure] - a single ravioli, damp from the water, still pleasantly steaming, lands with a defeated slap, on the linoleum floor. You see it happen, watch it flip through the air, like an Olympic bronze off the high-dive, or a suicidal veteran of war. you feel yourself shout a "No!", but it is too late. there, the ravioli, impossibly, lays limp.
FORSAKEN RAVIOLI - Why, it thinks, why me? For all the time I was grown and processed then crafted and for all the time I have waited for the only purpose which I was made for. To be cast so suddenly, so errantly, into the realm of the beyond? Beyond savior.
DRAMA - And here you stand, clad like a captain with your wooden spoon, watching as an honorable soldier, nay, a man, lies without your hand to aid him, on the kitchen floor.
VOLITION - you must act, now! first it must be picked up, then its fate can be decided.
COMPOSURE - Its fate is the trash.
AUTHORITY - Its fate is the trash.
YOU - You pick up the ravioli, it is hot, nearly still boiling, gushing steam and hot pasta blood down your hand. It hurts, but standing here, there is nowhere else for it.
PERCEPTION - It looks fine...
LOGIC - Don't do this.
SHIVERS [Heroic: Success] - Somewhere southeast of here, perhaps hundreds of miles, grain sprouts in a field, rich wheat, and butternut squash, only an acre over. The wind whistles through the fields, running like gleeful children through the tiny, green plants. Some will be eaten by birds, worms, or moles, but some will reach high into the sky, where they will be plucked and ground into pasta dough. You have seen the birthplace of this soldier. It is humble, a beautiful childhood, and so, so long ago. An entire pasta-lifetime, now.
FORSAKEN RAVIOLI - I thought I had finally made it. And with my brethren...
YOU - You look at the bowl, the rest of the ravioli, steaming in mournful, pyrrhic celebration.
My company...
EMPATHY - This ravioli could be you. You can't give up on it now. Not because of your own mistake.
AUTHORITY - This is not what a dignified man would do. send him off and mourn, perhaps, but do not spend one moment more considering his limp, cooling corpse.
DRAMA - Where has your heart gone, O Honorable One?
Authority - …
EMPATHY - the greatest service you could do for this little soldier, and for all those beyond you that forged him, is to eat him. What else is rightfully to be done?
VISUAL CALCULUS - It was on the floor for less than 4.7 whole seconds.
ENCYLOPEDIA - most forms of bacterium are able to jump, especially to wet materials, in about 1.2-
PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - any residue on your kitchen floor may well be material which was once already in your stomach.
CONCEPTUALIZATION - if you think about it, that means you've already kind of eaten the ravioli.
INLAND EMPIRE - From the Floor, Of the Floor, To the Floor. To be, or not to be, one with this eternal cycle?
ENDURANCE - Anything the floor could not contain, you could digest. (with VOLITION) We are iron.
HALF LIGHT - Bite into its soft, warm flesh.
EMPATHY - Give it peace.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Eat the floor-violi, pasta slut!
YOU - weeping, bring the ravioli to your lips, and then, impossibly, with infinite mercy, love, bring it into you. It tastes fantastic. You would have never know it was on the floor at all. You can feel the hum of satisfaction, the glory of it in your lungs, swelling to fill you more than even a pasta-feast could. This is the mercy you wish your God could cast on you, when you fall.
KIM KITSURAGI - "Harry,"
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lifehack!
if you are struggling to motivate yourself to edit your fic, i suggest the following:
put all that raw content into ao3. slap it in there.
dip back and forth over the next couple hours tweaking bits and bobs
accidentally post the whole thing
go to delete it and then remember you have people subscribed who would have got an email notification
feel bad about cockteasing them with a new chapter
feel worse about slapping a completely unedited chapter in front of them
decide to frantically edit the whole thing in the next 10 minutes whilst shrieking thusly
8. congratulations! you have edited your fic :)
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pranking peter asking him to try not to annoy you today has me crying
pairing: bf!peter parker x reader
w/c: 600
a/n: hiii anon thank u very much for requesting! based on that trend on tiktok :)
you’re feeling mean today.
after waking up so early, you’ve scrolled through countless videos of girls pranking their boyfriends with just a simple line, and seeing their priceless reactions.
and what better use of your time than to prank your ever so lovely boyfriend.
you’re up in the bathroom, washing your face and getting your makeup done for the day when peter walks in to greet you.
“g’morning baby,” he mumbles and wraps an arm around the side of your hip, sloppily kissing the side of your forehead.
you take a look at him through the mirror. he’s got bedhead, his curly hair all messy, shirt wrinkled, and he’s rubbing his squinty eyes from the bright lights. his cute little pout makes your heart skip a beat and you almost feel bad for what you’re about to do.
“hi petey,” you greet, you’ve got your brush in one hand, blending out the makeup on your skin.
and he’s reaching for his toothbrush, squirting some toothpaste on when he asks you, “d’you sleep good?”
“it was okay,” you respond with a shrug.
“just okay? what happened, y/n/n?" he asks, his voiced laced with concern.
you tap your fingernails on the countertop as you take a deep breath, “look, pete, i have a big day ahead, so can you just try not to annoy me today please?”
peter freezes as his jaw goes slack with the toothbrush in his mouth. his eyes stare up at you in shock and confusion while you’re none the wiser, looking straight ahead, curling your lashes up closely against the mirror, “what’d you say?”
you let out a sigh as you switch out the curler for mascara, “i said, try not to get on my nerves today.”
"today? but the day just started," he's dumbfounded when he looks at you.
you shrug in response, "still. you've been really annoying lately."
you resist from looking at peter. one quick glance and you know you would break.
“oh…” the boy mumbles, looking down at the sink confused, trying so hard to figure out where he went wrong, “m’ sorry.” you feel like a monster.
but when peter steps back to sneak a peek at you, he notices your uncomfortable stance. you’re squeamish, biting your lip, as you avoid eye contact with him.
his eyes narrow down at your figure, “and how exactly have i annoyed you lately?”
you take a second to think of a example, “just, everything. like right now, when you ruined my makeup or when you’re asking me stupid questions.”
“stupid questions? ruined your makeup? wait, what, you mean when i kissed you good morning??” your boyfriend laughs in amusement.
“m’ just saying.”
“huh okay,” peter spits the toothpaste out in the sink, “you wanna talk about silly questions?" he wipes his mouth with a rag and turns towards you, gets up real close to the side of your face.
you pinch your brows towards him, “what are you-”
“who was the one that asked me if italy was in spain?”
“peter-”
“or if milan was in germany?”
“are you ser-”
“or if australia and austria were the same thing?”
“peter!”
“i’m just saying!” he’s mocking you, a smug smirk on his face, and he knows he’s got you.
“yea whatever, einstein,” you bump him out of the way wanting to use the mirror next. you’re crabby your little prank backfired while peter’s having the time of his life, laughing at your embarrassment.
he stands behind you wrapping his big arms around your front and resting his chin down on your shoulder. he’s got this irritating sardonically sweet smile on his face that makes you wanna kiss or slap it off, you can’t decide. he’s gazing with loving eyes at you’re adorably grumpy pout in the mirror and kissing the side of face, smudging your makeup once more.
“it’s okay baby, you can get on my nerves all you want.”
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Lily: *calls out* PETUNIA CAN U THROW ME SOME PADS
Petunia: *muffled shouting*
Lily: *still calling out* WHAT??
Petunia: *opening the door and tossing out sone pads before promptly closing it* USE UR DAMN WAND
Lily: YOU'RE JUST BLOODY BITTER
Lily: DO U GENUINLY THINK I CARRY MY WAND TO THE LOO??
Petunia: THEN USE UR PISSING WIZARDING MAGIC BULLSHIT TO TURN THAT PAD INTO A WAND AND ACTUALLY DO SHITE YOURSELF SOMETIME
Lily: YOU RAGING BLOODY BITTER CU—
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