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crispyfryenperu · 1 year ago

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Normal Midnight Chaos

It’s 12: 16 am. I am sitting in my dusty bed under my dusty mosquito net in my dusty town which I at once adore and is the bain of my existence. I am listening to my host mom softly snore from across the hallway (our bedrooms have windows to the inside of the house so you can always hear everyone). I am surfing youtube and happily settle on 1989 the album. Taylor’s Version was announced today to come out in October. I am excited, I can remember so clearly blaring every song with Julia and Antonia, we had just graduated high school and thought we were so cool.

This race in Newhall was awesome- it was so rainy and so many varsity girls fell down the hill. Everyone was covered in mud and soaked to the bone. Then they cut out the muddy/hilly part for the varsity boys race which was afterwards. (losers)

Today was a strange day, although not unusual. All in all a typical Peace Corps day. Unlike most midnights, I am enjoying my 25 gigabytes a month to listen to 1989 and type up a hopefully-quality-blogpost. I can’t sleep. Possibly because of the brownies I made today with Ryan. Usually sugar doesn’t affect my body but I guess I ate too many (just 5?) brownies. I’ll blame the “chocolate-flavored chips” that we use for their cheap price. Who knows what those are made of. Or maybe it’s because I drank one teaspoon of instant coffee today. Or maybe it’s because there are so many striking, beautiful moments in my days, and also so many startling, uncomfortable moments. In addition recently we had a tragedy over here in Peru.

First I’ll tell you about my day. I woke up took out my retainers and opened my door… there was my 5-month old teenage kitten meowing at me right away. Michicucho followed me as I drank some boiled water - there was no milk :/ and ate a piece of french bread with REAL BUTTER!! I made my bed (wow!) and got out some baking items. Ryan Reynolds (I recently turned in a report and didn’t realize I referred to my site partner as Ryan Reynolds in it. His last name in Lenhart.) Ryan Reynolds showed up at 9:45 am to bake some brownies - despite being in Calango almost a full year this is probably only the second time we hang out just the two of us outside of work. So we talked about Peru and Peace Corps and our expectations vs reality. We are both happy to be growing as people and learning new perspectives and ways of life. I hadn’t wanted a site mate but in the end I’m grateful that Ryan is here!

Now Peruvian ovens are tricky - they usually don’t reach as high temperatures so you need to bake your goods for a long time. Once they were finally done it was lunch time! After I ate 5 brownies and Ryan licked the bowl, he left with most of the brownies. My host mom came home with rice, mashed potatoes, and chicken soup from the comedor popular (like a soup kitchen). I made a lemonade - I can never get the lemon to sugar ratio perfect enough for my host brother! At this point I just try my best, there isn’t more I can do. And my host mom made me a fried egg to eat with the rice and potatoes. I’ve changed in a year because I did enjoy this lunch.

Throughout the morning I was also checking in with my host mom and counterparts, because I had a meeting with the mayor at 12, but he was at a reservoir inauguration so i had to wait for him and my counterparts to return. After lunch (2 pm) I went to the municipality to wait for them. Finally I was able to present my community project at about 4 or 4:30 pm. Unfortunately, they are stressed, busy, and understaffed, so I was rushed through my presentation. My counterparts weren’t able to come because they had other work to do, in the room nextdoor, as well as because the timing was so impromptu. But the project was accepted. I mean, I’ll be applying to a Peace Corps grant, so who wouldn’t accept free outside money. Then I tried to have a small meeting with my counterparts to assign some responsibilities in the project and agree on a timeline. But it’s pretty much iMPOSSIBLE to get even 3 of them in the same room for more than 7 minutes. Then I walked 30 seconds to one of my friends house’s to bs about work and life. We walked up towards a bakery by my house to drown my sorrows in some warm french bread. Then I came home, managed to open my front door with the key - We recently changed the lock and I haven’t been able to open it all week. I shared brownies with my host mom and brother, held my crazy cat, and watched my favorite tv show Al Fondo Hay Sitio. But in Al Fondo Hay Sitio there are some really idiotic characters, and today showcased characters who were racist or classist. So it was making me angry. Then I spoke with my creative and lovely friends Alex and Carmen on googlemeet (weird), and finally to my parents. Even though family can be so frustrating sometimes, FaceTiming my parents always brings me joy.

I put my laptop and myself under my thick blankets in case my typing is bothering my host mom. It’s now 12:41 am. Fortunately most people in Peru are very used to loud noise all over the place. So I’m probably fine. Actually the acceptable public loudness in Peru is one thing that I … hate.

Everything I did today was pretty trivial, so why did I bother sharing it? Well, it just had so many moments of joy and hope. and so many moments of frustration, sadness, or anger. I think it all felt exaggerated in my mind due to the fake-chocolate-drugged brownies (am I old or allergic?) Regardless, I finally felt today that my community project makes sense. All of the puzzle pieces came together. But there is also so little support for it. The people I am looking for don’t have a lot of time to give me. I can’t blame them for not wanting to do extra work which isn’t even in their job description.

I was going to talk about TRAGEDY in this post but it’s already a post on it’s own! Looks like that’ll be coming up. Don’t worry, I’m perfectly okay. And so is everyone I love.

12:57 am. Hopefully now I can sleep deeply.

#peace corps #peru #volunteer

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andswarwrites · 2 years ago

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Day 26

When N- was a baby I briefly kept a blog called The Hollow Leg, where I chronicled my journey as a new mom trying to keep my hungry, hungry infant satisfied. Well she's almost thirteen and that appetite is still just as voracious, so maybe I should dig up the blog and continue the tale. The main issue was that I was told to wait until my baby was six months old to feed her solid food, and as a new mother I did not question what I was told. A family friend visited us when N- was four months, and she told me "Stacey, that baby is hungry."

She was an experienced mother, herself, so I trusted her judgment. I started N- on solid food and that helped at first. Her pediatrician was concerned about her weight so she told me to start N- on an animal protein, such as chicken. I tried it once; N- had such difficulty digesting the chicken, she was in agony. So in order to give her a protein that would be gentler on her system, I would puree a whole boiled egg with fresh green peas. N- loved that dish, as well as avocado. Those were her two favorites.

As she grew up, N-'s appetite was noticed by friends and family. It was extremely rare for N- to reject food, and she absolutely loved beans, just not beans with maple syrup. In fact, don't add sweet flavor to her savory food, as far as she's concerned, they do not mix. I mean, not even relish. Her favorite flavor for a while was mustard, but I think she overdosed on that. Too much of even a good thing. She didn't like pickles as a small child, but they are a favorite now. And she began to enjoy olives on her pizza a few years ago, and has since accepted them in other dishes too.

She's almost a teen and she's already always hungry. The thing is she isn't hungry for three square meals a day; she likes small meals, with lots of snacks in between. In fact, if she eats a lot in one sitting, she doesn't feel well. So she's peckish. We have a few food-related rules, most notably: N- is allowed to open the fridge and if she sees a container with a lime green lid in there, she is allowed to take it without asking for permission. I usually fill those containers with leftovers from dinner, or when I make a big batch of a dish such as chili, I put a few scoops into a container with a green lid.

One of our friends explained to N- that when she's hungry, a warm dish, such as soup, will help her to feel full. And it's true, it works; usually when we have soup for dinner, N- is satisfied after one bowl. I only recently figured out how to make soup that actually tastes good; they'd either be too watery or the spices would take over. My mom is a genius with soup. She looks in the fridge, takes out the leftovers from certain meals, combines them, and adds certain ingredients to make a soup that tastes delicious every time.

I'd try making soups the way my mom does, but I don't have the knack for it. I like making gazpacho, warm tomato soup, split green pea soup, yellow pea soup, and black bean soup. Notice what they all have in common? They're thick, and loaded with vegetables, or with legumes. I also enjoy making miso soup, with finely sliced green onion and diced silken tofu. Between soups, sandwiches, stews, wraps, and stir fries, I always want to make simple meals that are easily prepared with few ingredients.

The only meal I am willing to spend hours of effort preparing is sushi. And I haven't made sushi in a long time. S- specializes in salmon and potato-based dishes. He loves baking. I do not. S- will make bread pudding, muffins, and cookies from scratch. N- has begun to show an interest in cooking and baking as well. She likes to make dishes with eggs, melted cheese, and popcorn. Soon there will be too many cooks in our tiny little kitchen.

That's something I miss about our previous homes: there was enough counter space for two or three cooks to work at different tasks. I enjoy cooking with my husband, with my daughter, or as a family of three. When I visit my parents, one of us works on a salad, another prepares the dressing, and someone else prepares the main dish. N- loves how her grandparents make the dressing: olive oil, crushed garlic and lemon juice. Lemon has replaced mustard as her favorite flavor.

We spend so much time in the kitchen: putting away the groceries, preparing meals, cleaning up afterwards. It's like the hub of daily living in the home. I'm so glad I actually enjoy all this food-related work. Even doing the dishes. My mind wanders as I scrub and rinse. I once saw a quote from Agatha Christie, who said she got some of her best ideas while washing the dishes, and I believe it. And S- and I have had some pretty good conversations while one of us washed and one of us dried.

My dad makes this dish every time we visit: chicken, green peas, a homemade white sauce with penne. N- cannot get enough of it. Her grandparents on my husband's side of the family are excellent cooks as well. N- has grown up tasting food of all sorts, and she loves it all. When I would pack her lunches for school, I would put a lot of thought into what would keep her full throughout the afternoon, and I would decorate her napkin with colorful characters and loving messages. She would bring those napkins home, usually unused, and she has them in a heart-shaped box in her room.

#food #appetite #kitchen

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kyuuppi · 4 years ago

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vegetable stew

Pairing: Kenma x Reader (f)

Contents: hurt/comfort; angst and fluff; body dysmorphia; eating disorder (negative thoughts, fat shaming, insecurity, mentions of starvation)

Word Count: 2.1k

Kenma has always been observant.

It was a large part of his success as a setter and even now his keen observational skills contribute to his career as a professional gamer. He tends to notice things others don’t and lately that means noticing how you’ve changed.

The more he thinks about it the more difficult it is to pinpoint the exact starting point of your behavior. Haven’t you always preferred baggy clothing?

He remembers the pretty blue sweater you used to treasure back in high school, wearing it every chance you got as soon as the weather report hinted at anything lower than 10°C. He loved that sweater too—not just because of the cute sweater paws it gave you or how it almost completely covered the shorts you wore beneath, offering an unobstructed view of your shapely thighs—but instead he relished in the way it seemed to make you feel. The confidence and joy in your expression was clear as day when you wore your favorite outfits and early on in your relationship he had quickly learned that somehow your happiness was synonymous to his own.

Hence Kenma’s current frustrations in seeing that spark of joy and self-confidence gradually diminishing in the past several weeks.

Although that particular sweater had long since left your wardrobe within the first few years of university, as well-loved and worn out as it was, the more recent favorites of yours have also seemed to have gone lately. It had been a while since you had worn the short yellow polka dot dress you had been so eager to show Kenma the first day you got back from the mall with your roommates. Every pair of shorts and colorful tennis skirts had also left your weekly rotation, leaving behind only dull sweatshirts with childhood cartoon characters and baggy joggers.

Objectively, Kenma hardly cared about what you wore. If fastening a potato sack around your form made you happy, Kenma wouldn’t bat an eye—the problem stemmed from the fact these clothes didn’t make you happy. Moreover, the bland clothing brought with them their own slew of behavioral changes.

You no longer wished to go out and you avoided taking pictures of yourself, your social media suffering from an obvious lack of cheeky selfies or “outfit of the day” posts as of late. However, the most concerning change of all was your refusal to eat.

Kenma had a habit of forgetting to eat himself. He rarely felt the mild twinges of hunger, his attention generally hyper-focused on something else whether it was a game, a video needing editing, or a class project he had pushed off for far too long. It was only when his own stomach growling would startle him or the hunger pains got unbearable that he would acknowledge the human requirement of sustenance (not that the instant ramen in his cabinets provided much nutrients anyhow).

You were much more in tune with your body and, unlike him, you looked forward to eating; scheduled your days around it, even.

Your mornings began with a balanced breakfast—a meal Kenma was rarely even awake in time for—followed by a generous lunch break in which you would intentionally put everything on pause. Regardless of how much work you had to do you always made time to put everything down and have a decent lunch. It was good for your soul, you would say. A time to live in the moment and relieve yourself of stress.

For dinner you often made it a point to eat with others, whether it was going to a rowdy Korean BBQ with some friends or a dinner date at home with just him, you enjoyed sharing a meal surrounded by the people you love. On top of it all, you frequently had snacks: small bags of crackers, slices of fruit, or a few cookies you made yourself.

You loved cooking almost as much as you loved eating; most of the times he invited you over you brought a large bag with you filled to the brim with ingredients he wouldn’t have a clue what to do with. You would chastise him about his awful eating habits, grimacing at the ramen and chip wrappers overflowing in the kitchen trash can before you diligently prepare a meal for you both, healthy and flavorful, full of the vegetables he hadn’t had since the last time he went home to visit his mom.

You made him look forward to meal times too, if only to see the way you light up when he compliments your cooking or the pure bliss when you take the first bite of your favorite side dish. Eating with you became one of his favorite parts of the day.

And so that last time you made him dinner—a steaming plate of curry with shrimp tempura—the normally delicious food suddenly turned sour on his tongue when he realized you had only made him dinner.

“I’m just not very hungry today,” you had assured him with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Foolishly, he hadn’t said anything at the time.

Maybe you had a large lunch, maybe you had a stomach ache, maybe you just didn’t want curry today—at that point in time he had no reason to think there was something seriously wrong. He had no reason to think you were starving yourself.

It wasn’t until weeks later when all the evidence stacked up, the many different signs piecing themselves together like a puzzle until it was impossible not to see the picture, even if a few were still missing.

Your baggy clothing, your refusal to eat anything, your off-handed comments about how the female characters in whatever fighting game he was playing had such nice figures—it became crystal clear what you were doing and it made him feel sick.

Kenma doesn’t generally care about others’ looks; he tends to worry more on how he is perceived than how he perceives others but he is confident that he rather likes your body as it is. He would rather die than admit how often he finds his gaze wandering when your legs are bare or how his eyes naturally trace the curve of your waist down to the width of your hips his fingers twitch to touch—he has had many thoughts about your body, none of which have ever been negative.

Even so, he doesn’t mind if you want to change yourself. He isn’t foolish enough to think he has the right to dictate how you decide to present yourself to this world, but he refuses to allow the reason for your change to be one that stems from low self-esteem or insecurity.

When you step into Kenma’s apartment, weary from a long day of classes and the extra hours spent at the gym, the last thing you expect is to be greeted by the scent of some type of stew, warm and hearty. Your stomach clenches longingly but you quickly reprimand yourself—you already reached your tiny caloric limit for the day.

You have hardly made it into the living room when Kenma comes out from the kitchen, dyed hair tied in a low bun but messy, several strands poking out and sticking across his sweaty forehead. A dark blue apron is tied around his waist and his right hand holds a ladle, the perfect image of a frazzled housewife. If you weren’t so shocked by the scene you would have laughed.

“Welcome back,” he greets softly.

“Are you...cooking something?”

Kenma looks slightly embarrassed by your incredulous tone but not offended. In all the years you have known Kenma you have never seen him in the kitchen for longer than the three minutes required to heat up a bowl of noodles. Him slaving away in front of the stove for a bowl of homemade soup is nearly unfathomable to you.

“Vegetable stew...it’s my mom’s recipe,” your boyfriend explains sheepishly.

The mental image of Kenma shyly FaceTiming his mother as she patiently walks him through chopping up carrots and mixing spices makes your lips twitch upwards and you make your way past him to curiously survey his work.

“You didn’t have to go through the effort, I could have cooked you something, y’know,” you comment as you lean over the large pot on the stove.

The contents are a rich brown color with hints of potatoes, carrots, and onions peaking out. You’re gifted another pang of hunger and you quickly step back as if it would prevent you from falling into temptation.

Kenma quietly slips into the kitchen directly behind you, his chest nearly brushing your arm as he speaks.

“It's okay, I wanted to cook for us this time.”

You freeze.

Immediately, you break into a cold sweat, the prospect of eating sending you into a state of anxiety. You can’t eat—you don’t deserve to eat. Not when your arms are so flabby, your waist so undefined, your inner thighs so close to each other—

“I appreciate it,” you start.

Your voice sounds unnaturally high even to your own ears.

“But I’m not hungry—I had a really big lunch.”

Turning, you try to offer him an apologetic smile but his face looks off. His lips are pulled into a slight frown and his eyes seem to be looking through you, as if he knows you’re lying.

“Y/n...I don’t like what you’re doing.”

You attempt to laugh but it comes out hollow.

“I’m not doing anything bad, just dieting a bit.”

“I think you’re being a little extreme.”

You huff, starting to feel defensive. You don’t want to have this conversation, not now, not ever.

“Kenma, I’m totally fine, I promise.”

“I’m worried about you,” he insists.

“I’m telling you there’s nothing to worry about, I’m being safe.”

“Skipping meals isn’t healthy.”

“Kenma, being this fat isn’t healthy!”

The words escape before you can think to stop them and you can already feel the shame pricking at your eyes as you turn away. You don’t want to see your boyfriend’s look of disgust once he realizes you’re right, once he realizes how fat and unattractive his girlfriend is. Kenma is skinny, he deserves a petite girlfriend who is just as tiny, a girl with slender legs that look cute in shorts and a stomach that lays flat regardless of the time of day. He deserves the sexy girls in his video games, in shape from years of training and perfected suited for tight leather bikini tops.

You don’t realize you’re shaking until Kenma wraps his arms around your shoulders, burying his face into the side of your neck. He lets out a shuttered sigh and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he’s crying as well.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your skin, “and I don’t like seeing you hurting yourself. If you want to lose weight, I’ll help you. We can make healthy foods together and eat them together and exercise together—just please stop skipping meals.”

Your throat feels like it's stuffed with cotton so you can only nod in agreement, raising one hand to weakly wipe at the hot tears staining your cheeks.

The two of you stand like that, huddled in the middle of the kitchen, for several long minutes until the last of your tears have gone before Kenma gently pushes you to sit down at the coffee table. He prepares two steaming bowls full of vegetable stew for you both and you silently eat as Kenma tells you how low calorie the broth is and how many nutrients his mom said were in the vegetables he used. He tells you about a new fitness game on the Nintendo Switch that you two can play together. By the time you finish your meals, Kenma has already promised to wake up early to go jogging around the neighborhood together even though you know he absolutely hates waking up early and exercising when he doesn’t have to.

Your chest aches with how much he loves you, how far he’s willing to go just if he thinks it will help you and make you happy.

A small part of your mind begs you not to listen. It insists you’ll be fat forever if you don’t starve yourself; no pain, no gain. But the more rational part of you gazes into those soft golden eyes, filled with concern and love as he rambles on about the best sources of protein—all stuff he had learned from his professional volleyball player friend Hinata—and you know your answer.

Kenma loves you, he would do anything to see you happy and healthy and you would do anything to please him.

You love him more than you hate yourself.

#kozume kenma #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #kenma x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #kenma imagine #kenma scenario #kenma x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader

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fruitcoops · 4 years ago

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Hi this might be just because it's passover and I'm really feeling my heritage (and GOOD food) but could you write a fic possibly with Jewish Finn O'Hara?? (And Leo making him our food b/c it's so important to the culture) Or you can make any other character (it's hard cuz they all do xmas lol but i could see re or even kasey) who you feel could be Jewish I just LOVE your fics and I was hoping you could maybe represent my pride for my culture in one of our beloved characters :)

Yes I can!! Happy Pesach to all my wonderful Jewish followers <3 I will forever be jealous of your holiday foods! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove

Finn took two steps in the door, then paused. He inhaled deeply, paying special attention to exactly what that fantastic smell was as he toed his shoes off. “Butter? Is that you?”

“In the kitchen,” Leo called back. On the couch, Finn caught the edge of Logan’s smile before it was hidden behind his book.

He rocked slightly on the balls of his feet. “Are you making what I think you’re making?”

“That depends, what do you think I’m making?” There was a tease to Leo’s voice and Finn’s heart leaped; he skidded a little on the linoleum of their floor as he hurried into the kitchen and heard Logan laugh behind him.

On the stove, oil snapped and hissed while Leo prodded the bits of potato that flaked off the patties. He tapped Finn’s forearm as he hugged him from behind. “Don’t get too close, Fish.”

Finn snorted. “Are you kidding? This ain’t my first rodeo, pardner.”

Leo laughed at his terrible accent, then again at the smacking kiss to his cheek. “Well, I hope they’re alright. I totally forgot to ask your mom for her recipe, so this is a mashup of Bliz, Talker, and Re’s tips, plus whatever we had in the pantry.”

“You made me latkes,” Finn hummed, so happy he could burst. He gave Leo a quick squeeze and nuzzled his face against his neck, listening to the familiar sizzle as he added new potato cakes. “I didn’t know Remus is Jewish.”

“His dad is, so they celebrate both sets of holidays.” Leo shrugged. “I only texted Talker, actually. The other two just messaged me out of the blue with, like, a million suggestions.”

“We should have had them over for Seder.”

“Sorry, love.”

“ ‘s alright. Maybe next year.” Finn inched his hand toward the plate of latkes, only for Leo to gently smack it with his spatula. “Hey!”

“You’re gonna burn yourself!”

“I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again, especially for a worthy cause.” Finn kissed him again before scooting a steaming cake from the pile and popping the whole thing in his mouth; he pulled a face at the heat and Leo shook his head.

“Told you so.”

“Don’t tell my mother,” he mumbled, relishing in the crunch of the crisp outside layer. “Oh, fuck me, these are good. Lo, c’mere!”

Logan slid into the kitchen in his socks mere seconds later with a wide smile. “I get to try one?”

“No,” Leo groaned. “They’re not done!”

“My holiday, my latkes, my rules,” Finn declared as he reached for another.

Leo huffed a long-suffering—and incredibly fond—sigh, then pushed the plate closer to them. “Whatever.”

Logan stood on his toes to kiss his cheek before snatching a latke and carefully biting into one side, cupping his hand under to catch the inevitable crumbs. “Just shove it in, baby,” Finn advised around his second cake.

Both his boys raised their eyebrows at him; Leo broke first with a devilish grin. “Yeah, I bet you’d like that.”

“Alright, you know what—”

“Watch the oil!” Logan blurted as a particularly large bubble popped and sent a few tiny droplets over their kitchen. Leo made a sad noise when he looked down at his spattered shirt and Finn rubbed his arm in sympathy.

“That’s why you don’t wear nice clothes while you cook, Butter.”

“Do you think the Tide stick will get it out?”

“We can give it shot,” Logan assured him, though he sounded rather skeptical.

A tinkling alarm went off over the sounds of the oil and Leo immediately perked up, shooing them out of the way as he grabbed an oven mitt. Finn’s heart clenched. “You made more food?”

Leo leveled him with a stare drier than the Sahara. “No, honey, I made potato pancakes and nothing else.”

The scent of roast chicken and vegetables billowed throughout their apartment and Finn couldn’t help but grin, feeling the familiar warmth seep into his bones. The whole place would smell good for days. “He remembered to get the recipe for this part,” Logan whispered, wrapping his arms around Finn’s waist from the side wile Leo pulled the pan out and cut the sweet potatoes open.

“It smells like home,” Finn managed, leaning his temple on Logan’s soft hair. “Alex would fucking love this.”

Logan snapped his fingers, then reached over to the counter and handed Finn his phone, swiping to his most recent texts. “Actually, I think Bliz and Nat have that under control.”

Something hot prickled at the corners of Finn’s eyes when he saw the picture—Alex glowed with happiness, sandwiched between Kasey and Natalie with a bright grin on his face as the three of them held up their bowls of soup. The matzo balls inside were a little wonky, but otherwise looked delicious, just as they had when Alex and Finn made them as kids.

“Oh, honey,” Leo said quietly as Finn swiped the first tear off his cheek. He closed the distance between them and joined the hug, kissing the top of Finn’s forehead.

“I don’t know why I’m crying,” he sniffled. “I’m just so happy and I love you both so much. Fuck, Leo, you made me latkes.”

“Did they taste okay? I know it was kind of a Franken-recipe.”

Finn pulled back and reached up to cradle Leo’s soft cheeks in his hands, looking straight into his eyes. “Leo, they were perfect.”

“Happy Pesach,” Logan murmured, snuggling against him.

Finn barely held back a wince. “Pesach, Lo.”

“What?”

“You gotta—” He stifled his laugh with his hand. “There’s emphasis on the first syllable, then a ‘k’ sound.”

Logan licked his lips. “Pesach?”

“You sound so fucking French, oh my god.” He turned back to Leo with a smug smile. “You can’t make fun of me for how I saw ‘beignets’ after this.”

Leo barked a laugh, short and sharp. “Oh, yes I can. Watch it, Harzy, or you can kiss your latkes goodbye.”

“Joke’s on you, I know there are more at Loops’ house right now.” Finn propped his chin on Logan’s head and batted his eyelashes. “Besides, you have to be nice to me today. This is like my second birthday.”

“You can’t keep claiming things are your birthday!” Logan protested, wiggling away from his grip. “First it was Saint Patrick’s Day, then Hanukkah, and now this?”

“I have lots of birthdays,” Finn said solemnly.

Leo rolled his eyes. “Happy Pesach to the man of many birthdays. Can we at least eat before the chicken gets cold? I don’t want to beg food off Talker and his sisters tonight. My pride can’t handle it.”

“You have two boyfriends and a snazzy rainbow bracelet,” Finn scoffed playfully as he grabbed forks out of their utensil drawer. “That’s plenty of pride in my book.”

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wanderingcas · 3 years ago

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hey so like, i hope this is okay to send? but feel free to ignore it if you don't want to answer. i hope this isn't tmi but recently my mom became a single mom and i've been trying to help out more as the oldest, and that includes meals from time to time. my mom usually doesn't have time / energy to try out new things(frozen meals is the usual) and we're definitely on a budget- i found your post from like. two years ago lmao, saying to message if anyone needed any recipes. i don't even follow you or know you but if you had any ideas for stuff i'd really appreciate it! currently we have a lot of beans but tbh take that with a grain of salt because we can totally go out and get other ingredients, its just a matter of 1. making sure it doesn't cost much and 2. her not having to go to the store super often. do you have anything in general you'd suggest? especially with the fact that i'm a beginner in mind? it's also worth mentioning my mom likes to keep a low amount of meat in the house(but it isn't off-limits, just preferred to not be in everything). i dunno it feels super silly but i don't even feel like i know where to start. thanks in advance!

absolutely it's okay to send!' i answered the best i could, but obviously there's SO much more to go into specifically, so please feel free to message me if you have specific questions

but for every meal, i think it's best to keep it simple: protein, carb, vegetable. everything else on top of that is just extra, but at the base, the meal should consist of that. now, breaking it down into those parts:

vegetables

-frozen vegetables - peas, carrots, corn. you can’t tell these even were frozen when you put them in a soup or a casserole

-potatoes are usually cheap, depending on where you are in the world especially russet potatoes, and they can be baked alongside any protein you make.

-this isn’t necessarily on a budget, but ready-to-mix salads are a great option if you’re looking for something healthy and also fast. but those can be a couple dollars a bag. if that’s not an option, a really good idea is buying spinach (it can last at least a week in the fridge if you keep it good and sealed), buy a favorite dressing, and eat that combo for an iron kick. not the most fun thing in the world, but it’s very nutritious. you can even throw a few croutons or dried fruit in there if you can. plus, spinach can be thrown into any canned pasta sauce you get for an extra vegetable - just let it simmer on the stove for a few minutes until the spinach breaks down and gets soft. it’s a pretty versatile green!

-onions are usually affordable and always elevate a dish - just buy the cheapest your grocery store has, and don’t worry if a recipe says a certain kind (like yellow onion vs. red onion). most of the time, in a pinch, it truly doesn’t matter. we’re not aiming for a michelin star here lol

-celery: you can wrap it in tin foil and it'll last a few weeks in the crisper drawer

protein

-you mentioned you have a lot of beans, which is great, because if you don’t want a lot of meat this will provide you with a lot of protein! some ideas are chili (with those frozen veggies), vegetable soup, tacos, simply just rice and beans... they're really versatile!

-chicken thighs, bone-in, is harder to eat but always cheaper. thighs in general are cheaper than chicken breasts, too. if you can swing it, ready-made rotisserie chickens at the grocery store are the easiest to work with - simply cut and serve with rice, pasta, salad... literally anything!

-somtimes you can find discount meats that are about to expire at the grocery store. your freezer is your friend in this case - buy on sale, then freeze for up to 3 months until needed

carb

-rice is THE cheapest carb and can be used with literally anything. there's a variety of rice, all have their own personality, but get whatever is cheapest - you won't notice the difference in recipes, generally

-bread is obviously yum for any dish, especially garlic bread with pasta - cut a baguette or any thick loaf in half and spread some butter and garlic powder on it before throwing it in the oven wrapped in some foil

-pasta pasta pasta!! buy any shapes or sizes. can work with hundreds of dishes

now for random recipes that you can google for the steps or improvise - they're hopefully not too crazy complicated! obviously not a complete list, but enough to hopefully inspire you. they can all be theoretically cooked in under an hour, too.

-chili, potato soup, any baked chicken dish with veggies + a carb, fried rice, pasta with marinara sauce from an jar + side salad, tacos, quesadillas, beans + rice.

-googling "cheap dinners in 30 minutes" will also get you a crazy amount of results!

in terms of grocery shopping, i'd look up the recipes in advance, then make a list. then you can substitute any veggie or protein you want depending on price.

i hope this helps!! good luck:) and feel free to message me again with any specific questions or if you want specific recipes!! i'd be happy to provide links/steps but i didn't want this ask to get too crazy long <3

#anon ask #answered ask #sorry this took so long to ask!!#i have a newborn and time is no longer linear

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elfandomdelpandicornioyeldorito · 4 years ago

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Chapter 2. Coffee and Meetings (Willow Series)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Valentina Rivera (OC)

Word count:1283

Trigger Warning: meeting Steve, Sam, Nat and Wanda. Bucky being unsure at first. Love at first sight? A bit of latinx food. Mentions of dead parent. Fluff (i guess) and angst

Disclaimer: I don’t own any Marvel character, only the Original Characters are mine. English is not my mother tongue.

General Masterlist - Willow Series Masterlist- Abuelita Rivera Spanish Lesson- The Val Playlist

Gifts and pictures aren’t mine

Three months passed since Shuri established Valentina in a hut in the countryside of Wakanda, it was nice, her neighbors were really apart from each other, the nights were full of sounds from nocturnal animals and she felt close to her mom even when she was far away from her roots or her grave. Val felt free for the very first time in her whole life.

Bucky was surly with her the first weeks, but it was his normal since HYDRA, being always defensive, observant and distant from the people, old habits. He remembers how awkward everything felt when she took the initiative to speak to him, mostly about his goats, the second time they spoke was about his agriculture technique and the reason why nothing was growing properly, and from there, he remember the first coffee she chose to share with him and the first time he ate plantain tart patty. “In Costa Rica they call it plantintá, and you are lucky because this” she moves her tart patty, half eaten “is my mom's secret recipe, actually my grand grand parents version, but you get it” Buckys remembers.

The White Wolf also remembered the first days he spent watching her at the distance, it was his way to know she wasn’t a threat but with the pass of the time it became a way in which he made sure she was fine.

This time, at the distance and with the midday sun, he noticed that Valentina had two braids, one each side and very tight, it was unusual, she was always showing her natural brown half curly-half straight hair, he started to think that she was proud of that wild hair.

"She wasn’t here the last time" notice Wanda

"Yeah, Shuri brought her" answered the man

"The royal family is adopting foreigners or something?"

"Nat" the tone of Steve’s voice shows he do not agree with the tone of the Black Widow

Steve and his “fugitive” friends come to visit Bucky when they can and when it is safe to travel to Wakanda in the stolen Quinjet, that day was one of them, most of the time they stay like a week or so and then leave again.

Bucky was so focused on his conversation with his long time friend that he didn’t notice the small women approaching his direction.

"Hey" she greeted shyly, as always when she was insecure if it was a good moment "I think we have to set some limits to your goats… again" Bucky's sight focus for a brief moment in the gold pendant with lilies engraved from her necklace, but as fast as he could, he focus his sight on her face, again.

"What they did this time?"

"They are eating my recently clean bed sheet, so I need you to move those hell animals far away of my things" Bucky doesn’t give a verbal answer, but she knows that he is going to guide his goats to a new direction when he stand up from his bale of hay "Thanks!" Val look back for a little moment, smiling.

Suddenly everything feels awkward, she turns again, only to face Bucky's friends.

"Hi! I'm Valentina, call me Val, nice to meet you" the woman smiles in a friendly way and gives a strong but firm handshake to all the friends of Barnes "Have you all already eaten something? I have soup and coffee in my hut"

"I don't know you, but I take that offer" answered Sam.

Val laughs a bit, and makes Sam follow her, not long enough, the rest were following her.

"How long have you been here?" asked Steve

"In this side, about three months, in the country about five months or so"

"What are you doing here exactly?" Val looks at the Black Widow

"I'm doing a bit of field research of Wakanda educational culture and their educational system in general. One of my professors is from here so he got us the chance to come and research some subjects. Is me and 7 more people but Queen Ramonda allow me to be here, it was Shuri idea also"

Valentina's hut was in a perfect order, but at the same time had this feeling of home. The food was in clay pots in a wooden table close to the wall at the left side, that could be the kitchen side of a western house. The right side could be considered her room, and the suitcases had the function of furniture, on them were a battery lamp and books, also a water bottle. On the bed was a case, apparently a guitar.

She doesn't make anyone wait, as fast as she can she starts serving everyone food, with great animosity, if all of them were her closest friends.

"How do you say this is called again?" Bucky heard Sam when he was approaching the entrance, it was his first time in Val's home.

"Olla de carne" she answered, taking a sip of her coffee "is basically beef soup with carrot, sweet potato, potatoes…"

"Man, you are lucky your neighbor cooks this good" said Sam when Bucky finally enters.

Valentina watches him with a soft smile, taking one of her clay coups, pouring black coffee there and giving it to him. He accepts it with a nod.

It was kind of a silent tradition between them, every evening she would make her way to Bucky in his farm work, drink coffee together, some days he ate something she was able to bake in a very improvised way. She remembered that he drank his coffee black with no sweet in it.

"Little angry Steve isn't that angry" Val voices appear finally.

That evening his friends left early, that means he could finish his work for the day, and as an usual day, Valentina was always there, reading, sitting in the grass.

"He is angry only with people that is a potential bully"

She didn't answer. He turns around, only to find her completely in the book, she had a dead serious Face, that also was funny in her features of a sweet happy girl she usually portrays.

Bucky decides it is time to stop for the day, and sits close to her. It felt weird, she was always around him wanting to know about him.

"Books and history are biased, I want the version of James Barnes, not the version of some creepy winner historian allied with a state" she said to him once at the very start of their unusual friendship, if that can be called that way. Today was the day he finally let his curiosity appear.

"What kind of flower is engraved in your pendant?" Bucky instantly regrets his question, but she smiles with a bit of sadness in her eyes.

"They are lillies. Those were my mom's favorite flowers… Actually this was her necklace"

"What happened to her?"

"Mom died when I was Ten, heart disease. I was lucky to have such a strong lady as my mother, the same way I am lucky to have been raised by my grandma when mom passed away." she makes a pause, watching the sky "I try to use the necklace every day, back at home in New York, we always have some lilies in the living room, is our way of keeping her alive in the memory"

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked"

"Is fine, Buck. You are only curious to know your noisy neighbor. Keep asking if you want"

Relieved. Bucky feels relieved that she isn't mad at him for asking personal questions. But he also feels nervous of such honesty and familiarity.

Is this what a stable normality feels and looks like?

Tag list: @pinkpondofasgard @dance-dreamer @invisibleanonymousmonsters @americasmarauders @autumn-and-rain

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x original female character #bucky barnes x latina #Willow Series

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usurpyr-a · 4 years ago

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[ taste ] for (Mikasa) to cook for (Eren) :''^)

“... Huh ? What’s all this for ?”

THERE’S NO special occasion he can convince himself of: no significant date he recognizes as belonging to an important anniversary / a holiday / a reason why that would offer up a substantial enough explanation to excuse his rampant paranoia. Not that he distrusts Mikasa, necessarily, not in the way of cooking - she carries a familiarity with her into the kitchen that is indicative of a quiet childhood spent at her mother’s elbow, watching her work ( the both of them ). A far cry from the days of his careless youth, when the retort to his own mother’s asking for assistance in preparing dinner had been something along the lines of “but that’s a girl’s job” - to which he had been promptly hauled up by the ear and made out to be an unwilling accomplice, every night, for a whole month, until he knew his way around the knife and ladle. Unaware, the whole while, that even his vehement railing against the unjust ‘punishment’ he had received was all just a part of her grand design - a patient waiting game / a guiding hand: what do you want to have tonight, Eren ? How about I teach you to dice potatoes, hm ? Or maybe we could make something sweet, what do you think ? Some apple tarts, how does that sound ? Can you do it on your own this time ? Can you show me how you made it ? How does it taste ? What did you learn ? Wasn’t that fun ? I’m so proud of you, you know.

No, he doesn’t distrust Mikasa as a chef. The problem is that he trusts her almost a little too much - the smell of that vegetable stew she had just placed in front of him is uncannily nostalgic, after all. Bordering even on the absurd. He nearly convinces himself of some kind of witchcraft, a trick of the senses / memory betraying him for an idolized ideal, that’s all, that’s all. But. He finds himself picking up the spoon regardless. He falls all-too-easily back into that old habit of not asking too many questions, at least when food is involved. Fresh food, at that - more than a starving little orphan on the street could ever hope for in the depths of a recession. He’ll just have to accept the reality that this is, apparently, another one of Mikasa’s spontaneous ‘good deeds’, which have been becoming more frequent as of lately ... Restlessness, perhaps ? He has always known Mikasa to be a very, ah, active spirit. Nevermind that most of these ‘random’ acts of kindness have been dedicated specifically to him, it seems - just another facet of her coddling, overbearing, protective mother-hen nature. Though he has not quite yet reached his threshold for refusing her at every turn ( so he will forgive her this once ).

Eren takes a tentative sip of broth - she’d had the courtesy to wait for it to cool a touch before serving, knowing full-well he’d scarf down any meal too-quick to register his tastebuds melting until he was already more than halfway through. He hums, feeling a stubborn knot in his sternum finally relax under the torrent of warmth flooding through him. This is ... exactly like Mom used to make. I didn’t think such a thing was possible, after all this time ... had Mikasa really been paying that much attention ? It’s a ... not an unwelcome feeling, but ... For whatever reason, he’s reluctant to admit how much this has moved him / shifted something inside, as though a burden has finally been unshackled, the skin raw from where it had chafed against guilt. He can’t recall the last time he ever felt such a way. And Mikasa was able to do it, with a simple soup from when we were kids ...

“It’s ... good,” he finally manages, swallowing heavily. Suddenly, the idea strikes him: possibly ill-conceived, but the words are already tumbling out of his careless lips, too late to take back. “Hey,” he continues, looking evenly at her, “you should have some, too. Doesn’t feel right, me having all this for myself when you’re the one that worked so hard to make in the first place.”

Except. He already knows her answer, sees it in the nervous wrinkle of her nose: I’m alright / I made it for you / just enjoy it, okay ? He tries not to let his annoyance show, convinces himself of his maturity, the years spanning between the here-and-now. But something is inexplicably pulling him back into his past ... not that he is resisting it. And this is not a childhood of bitter arguments and scraped knees, utensils tied haphazardly to the ends of broomsticks, the ground trembling underfoot / eyes transfixed on the haunting image of some cherished someone’s last moments in the hand of a giant marauder-- This is warm summer days and carefree laughter echoing through the streets, a parent’s unconditional affection, pillowcases suspended from a clothesline / their billowing reminiscent of far-off ocean waves. These memories are cherished, yes, but have wasted away in his mind’s eye / been buried like so much else under the rubble of his old life, the life that could have ( should have ) been. How can he be sure he is remembering correctly ? How can he be sure he is recalling the correct taste, the correct atmosphere ? When he’d last thought of his mother, was she different than as he thinks of her now ? How many of her wrinkles has he smoothed over in his imagination ? How many of his angry, hurtful words has he since swept from her brow, in an effort to preserve her forever as the saint-savior-martyr of his youth ? All along, has he been the one robbing himself of resolution ?

... He’s never been good at it, talking to Mikasa. He’s never been any good at talking in general, forever to be known as the bull-headed boy that goes about spouting whatever inane nonsense that jumps to the tip of his tongue. He’s reserved himself, recently, to speaking only in whispers / small sentences / clipped tones. Perhaps that is the greatest deception he’s ever committed himself to: a manic desire to be at once suddenly unapproachable. But especially in the earliest of hours, like today’s, his guard slackens / slips off like an ill-fitting coat, too large for his slim shoulders. He’s never been good at pretending, either, but that hardly matters when any mood he adopts nowadays never seems to be able to find its purchase against the smooth rock wall of indifference that stands ( ever-present ) between them. As though he can do no wrong - as though he hasn’t been trying.

Eren abruptly clears his throat before discreetly glancing at Mikasa from behind the thick curtain of hair falling over his face. It’s getting long. He should really cut it soon. But, ah ...

“... You’ve been eating,” he states, less like a question and more like an accusation, “-right ? I was just remembering .. when you first came to live with me and my family. You didn’t eat anything for days - Mom thought you were ‘gonna starve yourself.” It’s a cheap, underhanded tactic, but it works - is likely to work, anyways. Eren leans back in his seat, turning over a chunk of potato in his dish. He relaxes his words, feigning nonchalance / his levity tentatively genuine. “First thing we got you to choke down was some soup, just like this ... but, heh, you only agreed to because I said I wasn’t going to eat anything so long as you weren’t.” A strange twitch of his upper lip warns of a smile threatening a larger grin / something showing teeth. “I was real serious about it, too,” he adds. “Thought I could go weeks without food if I had to. If it’d make sure you came around, eventually.”

Maybe it’s selfish of him, to weaponize those particular memories against her / in an contrived effort to comfort. But it serves to make its point: he does worry about her, in his own strange fashion - in a way even he himself cannot recognize as totally altruistic in nature. Though he does not leave the anecdote unscathed, either; he can’t stop rubbing his wrists, can’t stop itching them with blunted fingernails, afraid of his newfound freedom ( after all, what would an animal born in captivity possibly know of a life meant to be lived without restraint ? ). Despite how obediently he chews and swallows, at some point the reward of her hard work turns to a mass of indistinguishable mush in his mouth / sticking to his tongue, the backs of his molars. This simple action, too, is made awkward - thanks in no small part to his social incompetence. His ears start ringing as a damming blush dusts their tips, perhaps in punishment of his childlike over-eagerness ( “I can show you how to make it sometime, if you want - Mom taught me how.” ).

Eren dips the spoon in again, holding it out carelessly - though his hand does not waver. He schools his features into something more serious / a replication of his boyish self, all those years ago, caught scowling across the dining room table by a girl who could not swallow the weight of that gaze / no more than she could the meal slipped in front of her, whose smell only sickened - which only reminded her of the home now lost to her. He remembers his mother scolding him, back then - reminding him to give her space, to let her grieve, to never expect anything more than she was capable of day-by-day, always at her own pace. But he’s never been a very patient person.

“ ... Eh ? How about it ?” He gestures again, tilting his head to one side, as though expectant. “Come on. Try some. For me ? I mean, I won’t have any more unless you take a bite ... Fair’s fair, and all that.”

non-verbal meme.

#can u tell this is the one I wrote last. can u.#I can write something purely fluffy for once. as a Punishment.#Eren whenever Mika is being stubborn: you've left me no choice. time to activate Annoying Guilt-Trippy Younger Brother Mode #love how inconsistent my portrayal is. really love that for us.#erleidn #ENCHAINED.#I ANNIHILATE; I ASH; I TERRIFY.

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sternbilder · 4 years ago

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I've been cooking/baking a lot more since lockdown, here's a compilation of things I've made so far that I'm proud of! (+recipes!)

apple crisp! my go-to super easy dessert, plus (store bought) ice cream for that warm/cold combo👌

mozzarella stuffed tonkatsu!! tonkatsu is one of my favorite easy meals to make (and no link, bc I just use my mom’s recipe that I know from memory) but stuffing it was hard af and I will probably never do it again even though it is insanely good?? I will stick to regular tonkatsu next time

apple bread!! this was really tasty and not too hard to make, and not overly sweet too so great for breakfast!

german apple pancakes! I had to buy a cast iron skillet for this but it was worth👌 also if you're curious about why so many apple recipes, it's bc I fucked up and bought 3 dozen apples by accident on instacart bc I am an dumbass 😔

flan!! this tasted amazing and I crushed the entire pan by myself in a week. a lot easier than I thought too!

baked brie! this isn’t the best picture, but there's raspberry jam and maple syrup on the inside, and the crust has brown sugar sprinkled on it! a tad too on the sweet side but still v tasty, this is prob the simplest recipe on here so good for a quick snack

coffee-flavored swiss roll cake! this was a pretty complex recipe and I had to re-do some parts but I really like how it turned out! super tasty and not too sweet, I'm v proud of this one

tamago sando! I had a sudden craving for those egg salad sandwiches you can get at japanese 7/11s so I found the recipe online. I think I used a little too much butter but it was nevertheless delicious👌👌 would recommend

peanut/vegetable stew! no recipe unfortunately & I'm not really sure what this is called bc it's just from a friend's cookbook but it's a vegetarian soup with spinach and tomatoes and onions and sweet potatoes and a peanut-based broth. v tasty and filling, I cooked this with some friends over VC!

and most recently, souffle pancakes! this was the hardest one yet, I threw out an entire batch bc the consistency was all wrong but even my second attempt wasn't as fluffy and browned as I would have liked 😭 maybe someday I will get it right...

#this is all stuff outside of my regular meal cadence (via blue apron)#(which is also good but i didn't put on here bc it's less work imo)#i never used to bake before so i've been learning a ton!#/#//#cam thoughts #food cw /

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lovemesomesurveys · 4 years ago

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[-andreaaaaaa]

who are you? Stephanie.

what type of bed do you have? A full size.

do you drink coffee? Everyday.

any piercings? If yes, what ones and where. Yeah, just my earlobes. do you have a mobile? As in cell phone? Yes.

when was the last time you laughed so hard you cried? It’s been awhile since that’s happened. <<<

what color are the walls in the room your in? White.

would you eat spaghetti that was 3 days old for a hundred bucks? Three days would be fine. Although, I’m not big on leftovers and only like to go a day after, but technically something like spaghetti would still be okay I’m sure. I might do it.

are you wearing socks? I always wear socks.

what's a good song at the moment? I don’t even know. I haven’t been listening to music much.

who did you last speak on the phone to ? My mom.

did you go to school/work today? I’m done with school and I don’t have a job.

do you hate it when people call you but it says ‘number unknown’ ? I don’t answer those calls.

what do you think of lip piercings on chicks ? I don’t care.

have you got an iPod? if yes, what color? I still have my iPod Touch, but it’s been stored away and unused since like 2012.

would you rather have black or blonde hair? Black.

what did you have for breakfast? Scrambled eggs and biscuits smothered in country gravy with coffee.

if you were a potato what would you be made into? [eg. potato chips, ect] Mashed potatoes and gravy.

are you a serious person? I’ve become more serious in recent years. Especially lately. Life has hardened me.

do you have any pets? I have a doggo.

do you skateboard? If so, are you good? Nope.

what brand of printer do you have? I think it’s a Canon.

is there anyone whos pissing you off at the moment? No.

do you like the color grey ? Sure.

do you have a trampoline? No.

what type of phone do you have ? An iPhone 12 Pro Max.

are you allergic to anything ? Tangerines and seasonal allergies.

do you like tomato soup? No.

what makes you feel sick? Being sick. ha.

do girls who think their better than everyone annoy you? I don’t like anyone who is arrogant and cocky.

dont you just hate try hards? It can be annoying.

so, why are you doing this survey? I want to.

are you on a laptop or a pc? Laptop.

do you like msn? I’ve never used MSN.

are you cold at the moment ? No.

when was the last time you held someone's hand? It’s been years.

when was the last time you laid in someone's lap? Uhh. Probably not since I was a kid.

do you think lap is a funny word? No.

do you know who chuck norris is? Yeah.

do you know who dane cook is? Yep.

what would you do if you ex came to your door right now? I’d certainly be caught off guard, surprised, confused, and have a lot of questions. It’d make me anxious and curious, but I wouldn’t answer the door or reach out to him. It’d be waaaaay too awkward and I absolutely do NOT want him to see me like this.

how many hours of sleep did you get last night ? It’s never enough. <<<

did you have a good sleep? No.

anything interesting happen last night? No.

do you smoke? I do not.

want any piercings? Nah.

are you eating anything at the moment? No, but I’m drinking this Froot Loops flavored Carnation Breakfast drink thing and it literally tastes like I’m eating a bowl of Froot Loops. It’s good.

when was the last time you kissed someone ? Several years ago.

are you having a good day ? I had my favorite breakfast this morning, so that was something nice.

what are your plans for the weekend ? Same stuff as always, which isn’t much.

who was the last person you texted? My dad.

looking forward to anything? I want to try and go see A Quiet Place 2 sometime soon. I miss going to the movies and I want my damn movie theater popcorn lol.

do you like your parents? Yes, I love my parents.

who’s your favorite auntie? I’m close with one of my aunts.

who’s your favorite uncle? I don’t have one.

how many texts do you have in your inbox? I am not about to try and figure that out.

what about in your sent items? ^^^

what was your last bruise from? I don’t recall.

don't you think its funny when big dogs think their lap dogs? Aww, it’s cute.

are you listening to music? No, I’m listening to an ASMR video.

if you married the last person you texted what would your last name be? That’s my dad...

what time did you wake up today ? 930.

do people think your older than you are when they meet you? if yes, why do you think that is? No, they assume I’m much younger.

what color hair do you have at the moment? Mostly my natural hair color (dark brown) with some faded red throughout because I’m a year overdue. :/

does your dad have a moustache? No.

what's your MSN name? I don’t have MSN.

got any major scars? if so, what from? Yeah, several. Most are from surgeries.

got a favorite instrument? I love the piano.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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not-delicious-milk · 4 years ago

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@adhdyuuji tagged me to do this ask game thingy so i guess it’s time for you all to know too much information about me

name/nickname: lara, though apparently my nickname is “milky” or straight up “milk”. my favorite kind of milk is extra creamy planet oat, my second favorite is banana

gender: the pile of clothes that you think might be a person in the middle of the night (she/they)

star sign: cap sun, leo moon, gemini rising. roast me if you like, i’ve already heard it all

height: 5′8 and 3/4! i like to mention the 3/4 nowadays

birthday: just happened a couple days ago, january 8

fav band: fuck uhhh *checks my spotify* i’m terrible at picking between things but thankfully most of what i listen to are solo artists so i’ll just say probably mother mother. though i’m partial to supertramp, metallica, and dream theater. and lemon demon (does that count as a band?) and also muse is good though i don’t know that many of their songs oh and babymetal is good.

fav solo artist: *instantly dies* so i can’t fucking pick one but i’ll rattle off the ones i like. mitski, phoebe bridgers, eve, ricky montgomery, sir chloe, poppy, the japanese house (does that count as a solo artist?)... and also i listen to a lot of classical music for obvious reasons so my favorite composers are shostakovich, ravel, debussy, dvorak, philip glass, rachmaninoff, and bach. and my favorite classical musicans are julius baker, jasmine choi, hilary hahn, and evgeny kissin. claire chase is also pretty cool, and i’ve actually met her during a juilliard summer thing, though it was over zoom

song stuck in my head: i’ve made approximately seven thousand posts about it but this track from the saiki k soundtrack

last movie: exactly 2 minutes of castle in the sky before i got bored and left. my mom only watches dub and i hate dubbed studio ghibli films. in general i don’t watch a whole lot of movies, my attention span isn’t long enough. that doesn’t stop me from watching like 8 hours worth of anime though

last show: saiki k (rewatch)

when i created this blog: who fucken knows. is that on tumblr somewhere? i think it was last summer, but i changed my theme like twice. i’ve been on tumblr, like in general, way longer than that, but i deleted my last blog and made a new one so here i am

last search: so i’m gonna ignore the ones that are related to my most recent post, because they’re mostly about formatting and just finer definitions. “japanese morse code translator”. i was really sure that there was morse code in akechi touma’s theme but i’m pretty sure it’s just gibberish. that or i can’t identify morse code for shit

other blogs: nope! i still don’t get how that system works at all

do i get asks: well i got a fuck ton of anon asks until i turned that off so people would behave and now it’s pretty quiet. i like getting asks! please ask me things!

following: 132

why i chose this url: this was originally a cottagecore blog and then i changed it to a mp100 blog and then i changed it to a jjk blog. but when it was a mp100 blog it was a reference to an omake in chapter... 7

average hours asleep: somewhere between 4 and 8? i’m trying to sleep more lately

lucky number(s): i like 12!

instruments: i play the flute and i intend on becoming a professional musician! so i’m pretty serious about it.

what i'm wearing: hoodie and sweatpants. i haven’t changed out of my pjs yet

dream trip: vienna would be nice. i’d like to visit the opera house. anywhere in france would be nice too, i’ve been there once before and i’d like to go back

favorite food: so here’s the thing, i can’t pick favorites. i like whipped cream (does that even count as food?), tempura sweet potato rolls, red lentil soup, salt and vinegar potato chips, vegetable pad see ew, lemon and sugar crepes, and pickles. i don’t know what that says about me.

favorite song: sorry can’t pick one. savior complex by phoebe bridgers, you seemed so happy by the japanese house, redesign your logo by lemon demon, maskarade-suite mvmt 1: waltz by khachaturian, the rite of spring by stravinsky, bluebeard’s castle by bartok (is that cheating? those are a ballet and an opera respectively), schehezerade by rimsky-korsakov, and uhhh dirty town by mother mother

top 3 fictional universes: jujutsu kaisen, percy jackson, one punch man. done. not gonna think of any more nope nope nope

i have no clue who to tag here bc i feel like these are vaguely personal questions and i’m not really a very chatty mutual with anyone else so.... consider yourself tagged if you want to do it!

#long post #ask game #pov: i can't make a decision to save my life

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writer-rochelle · 5 years ago

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Statesman: Ablaze Ch.2: Off the Grid

(a/n: here is chapter 2 of the one thing im super frickin proud of. thank you @pomelloe-me for bullying me in our shared google doc to make sure i get things done. ily <3)

“Can you leave the window down? My car smells like fucking fried chicken, and while it may be your fave food it's not mine.” Alicia said, shutting her car engine off. Pom chuckled, obliging her friend’s request. Both women stretched, their joints popping, as they clambered out of the small car and started their walk up the small driveway.

The Agents had opted to live as far away from the brewery as they could, wanting to make a safe and work free environment for them to escape to. It was a pale green 3 story victorian house with white accents, and a small front porch. Two white rocking chairs moved slightly in the wind, and a white porch swing on the far right end swayed with them. A black and white rip n dip doormat sat under a black double front door, the words "go away" floated next to a white cat flipping any visitors off. A purchase Pom had made while online shopping in the wee early hours of the night. One that Alicia and Dena had found rather hilarious and Carey had simply shaken her head.

“I’m gonna murder your boyfriend, he’s as dumb as a fucking rock, I swear it!” Alicia exclaimed, walking towards the front door of the shared home, twisting her head this way and that in a vain attempt to pop her still stiff neck. She could hear Pom curse at her under her breath. “What was that? Use your words miss ma’am” Alicia teased, knowing Tequila was a nuisance for Pom. He had been Alicia's friend first, and one-day on a whim she had invited them to a carnival accompanying the rodeo that was in town. Soon, the three of them were inseparable. Tequila however soon developed feelings for Pom, his endless pining no secret to anyone. The ex-rodeo clown meant well, and when he wasn't trying to convince the southern beauty to go two-stepping with him, the two got along very well.

“I said he ain’t my fuckin’ boyfriend,” Pom responded, she was frustrated but smiled all the same. She reciprocated the crush but put her job as a Statesman agent first. She refused to let anyone or anything jeopardize her career. The brunette removed the brown cowboy hat sitting on her head, using it to fan herself in the heat, waiting for Alicia to unlock the front door.

“Whatever you say!” Alicia sang, throwing the door open. Pom followed the woman into the entryway, shutting and locking the door behind her. The smell of delicious food wafted towards where the two girls stood, as they began dispensing the arsenal of personal weapons they had into their designated shelves in the entryway. Pom hung her hat on the hook on the wall next to the door. Alicia groaned, taking her box braids out of the ponytail she had forced them into, massaging her scalp.

"I don't know how you can stand having those things pulled back like that!" Pom said, emptying her pistols before placing them back in their holsters.

"Trust me, one I'm gonna shave my head, and I only kept them in because I spent so much on them for that one assignment. Why waste money? Carey Ann, is that your cooking I smell?" Alicia called, making her way further into the house. She paused a moment, kicking her shoes off in the mudroom off to the left.

“Yup! I’m in the kitchen, y’all! Make sure you leave your shoes in that mudroom, I just swept!”’ Carey called out to them from the direction of the kitchen.

Whatever she had been making since she had come home had made the house warm and cozy, the warmth of the oven lightly combating the aircon. Carey was the oldest of the four women living in that house. She had recently moved to New York, assisting Agent Whiskey in running the New York office. Occasionally, she would return to their humble abode in Kentucky. Most household responsibilities fell on her, their other roommate Dena had been away for almost a year on assignment in Europe seeking out an alleged brother agency. Usually, Pom and Alicia were left to their own devices, sticking to take-out orders, or the occasional soup and grilled cheese combo Alicia cooked up. It wasn't often Alicia or Pom cooked, let alone cleaned. It was nice to have their Agent Mom back in town.

Pom hastily unzipped the sides of her boots, sliding them off to reveal her cute space patterned socks, ‘The best feeling ever is taking your shoes off after a fuckin’ long day of work.’ she thought to herself. Pom’s hair stuck up in odd angles, no secret the hat that had been resting on her head all day. She combed her fingers through it, the brown tresses fell to her shoulders in thick, uncontrollable waves.

“It’s good to see you here, and not on a fucking screen, ma’am.” Alicia snooped through the pots on the stove, hungrily eyeing Carey’s homemade fried pork chops, mashed potatoes, and mac & cheese warming idly on the stove. Alicia only two kinds of southern cooking, her Grandma Beaulah's, and Carey's (a close second).

"Yeah, bitch. I thought you might have forgotten about us.” Pom called out from the living room, where she had placed herself comfortably down on the couch, flicking through something on her phone. She sighed, still no response from Whiskey. Had she upset him without realizing it? ‘Fuckin’ Whiskey, I wish he could’ve told me instead of ignoring me like a dumbass.’ she thought, shutting off her phone and tossing it to the other end of the couch.

“Well, if y’all acted 24 and 25 years old and not little children, you wouldn’t need me to come home to cook and clean for y’all. Dena hasn’t even been here and she still keeps her room clean!” Carey teased, swatting Alicia’s hands away from the food. Even if she had been present, Dena and Carey were definitely the neatest of the four. Carey had tried in vain to get the other two younger women to help, even going so far as to leave everything to pile up. It had taken a roach crawling across Alicia's face one night in her sleep to finally get them to step up. Now they kept a chore list on a dry erase board in the laundry room, and the katsaridaphobic agent no longer left dirty dishes in her room.

“Girl, they’re clean. And for the record, Pom and I do take care of ourselves! For example, I did all the laundry in the house and Pom got rid of that possum that was living in the roof. Perfectly responsible.” Alicia said smugly, giggling as Pom chimed in quietly from her spot on the couch about the ‘Cunt ass possum that tried to eat her fucking face even though she had given him a slice of ham as a fucking peace offering headass’.

“Pom, why don’t you come join us instead of mumbling with your colorful vocabulary from the couch; the food is ready.” Carey laughed, shaking her head at her roommate's antics. She grabbed the rolls out the oven, before removing her apron and oven mitts. She moved to pull a pitcher of sweet tea out of the fridge, and then stood back proudly to admire her work. Dinner was served.

“You sound like my fuckin’ mom,” Pom uttered as she hoisted herself up from the couch, making her way into the kitchen to wash her hands.

“I may as well be. But enough bickering, I missed y'all two!” Carey said, carrying her plate of food to the table where Alicia already sat eating.

“I’m not really hankerin’ for anything, but thanks, Carey. I love you…fuck head.” Pom told Carey with her unique version of affection, leaning against the island in the kitchen and removing her rusty-colored jacket from her body. Pom's jokes and colorful nicknames were her own brand of love, and while it was offputting the first time she called you something like "hoe bag", you learned to acknowledge the underlying "I love you".

“Well at least stay and sit with us, I’ve got something to tell y’all,” Carey said, patting the chair next to her. She needed to tell somebody about how she and Jack had recently started seeing each other. She figured he had already told Tequila, and felt justified in telling the girls. Pom sat down in the chair with a grunt after placing her jacket on the table.

“Oh do tell, this wouldn’t happen to do with a certain mustached cowboy would it?” Alicia batted her eyelids, and suggestively wiggled her eyebrows. Pom knew exactly what this conversation was going to lead to. She wasn’t a fucking idiot; she noticed every small exchange between Carey and Whiskey, it was just something she had an eye for. The two had known each other for over two years and had recently started to go out with each other seriously. It was a wonder they hadn't started fooling around sooner.

“W-well...about that” Carey giggled nervously, maybe she wouldn’t tell them after all.

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Carey Ann! Are you fucking Ole Jack Daniels?!” Alicia exclaimed, pointing her fork accusingly at the shorter Agent. Pom couldn’t help herself from letting out a loud chuckle, moving her long legs to sit cross-legged on the chair.

“Alright, fine. Whiskey and I may or may not have been seeing each other exclusively for the past year while I’ve been back and forth from New York.” Carey said, casually taking a sip from her glass of tea, the clinking ice cubes being the only sound for a brief moment.

“I fuckin’ knew it!” Agent Rum pronounced with great amusement, looking over at Carey with a menacing smile.

“YAS BITCH, OH MY GOD! Tell us everything, and I do mean everything!” Alicia said, standing up and playfully pulling Carey into a noogie.

The girls laughed, Carey pushed Alicia back into her chair before smoothing out her blonde curly hair. Carey was glad that the girls hadn’t reacted negatively like she thought they would. She had missed this comradery with the girls while staying in New York; she leaned forward fully retelling everything that had been happening. It was nice to finally be home.

* * * * *

Pom Graham was awake earlier than the rest of her housemates, as usual. Most nights she would stay up until midnight listening to her favorite kinds of music and trying to gain motivation to do her beloved hobby of painting. But she never slept for long as her natural body clock woke her up just a few short hours after she fell asleep. Still, she was always filled with so much energy.

Pom tip-toed out of her room and down the flight of stairs in hopes of not waking her friends. She was already dressed in her usual outfit that the others rarely saw her out of. The living space downstairs was decorated with rustic, but comfortable furniture and pots of greenery scattered around. Photographs and posters could be found on the walls.

She threw herself on to the couch in front of the large, technologically advanced television. With a press of a button on the remote, the screen came to life with the morning news channel. ‘Boring.’ Pom thought, ‘Carey must have been watching it last.’

“The daughter of beloved Kentucky senator, Xavier Dobios, is still missing and it’s sending everybody into quite the state of distress…..” Said the monotone voice of the news reporter on the TV. Pom scoffed at his words.

“Fuck off, ‘beloved my ass’” Pom returned in a sharp whisper, smiling with amusement. She clicked another button and the kid’s channel started to play. Pom never really liked to watch television, but when she did, she would always turn on the channel that entertained her most.

“Good morning, Pomegranate.” Came Carey’s sweet but groggy voice from the doorway leading into the kitchen. Carey was dressed in cute, pink pajamas and her hair was quite the mess. She let out a big yawn.

“Mornin’, you’re up early,” Pom responded, turning her head to give Carey a nice smile. Carey walked back into the kitchen to start preparing coffee and breakfast for herself and her housemates.

“What do you want for breakfast? And I know you don’t like coffee, so what do you want to drink?” Carey asked from the kitchen to Pom. She sat there thinking for a moment before answering.

“Peanut butter toast. And some water. Bless your heart, Carey.” Pom returned gently. Carey was surprised to see how calm she was. She was used to seeing the hot-tempered, mischievous, and swearing version of Pom. But she appreciated seeing this side to her too because Carey knew that’s who she really is. Pom never failed to make her laugh and smile.

Carey made food and coffee with the sound of Pom watching the kid’s channel playing in the background. Alicia probably wasn’t going to be awake for a few more hours but Carey poured her a cup of warm coffee just in case.

“I don’t know how you have so much energy all the time, Pom,” Carey said as she sat on the couch next to Pom, handing her the plate of peanut butter toast and a glass of water. She sipped on her own cup of coffee just the way she liked it.

“I’ve consumed so much fuckin’ sugar in my life that I’m constantly on a sugar high.” Pom joked to her friend, smiling. Carey laughed, the sound mixing the soft sounds of the old Victorian settling over them. It wasn’t often they got a morning to themselves, and they knew they’d have to head to work soon, but for now, HQ could wait.

“GOOD MORNING VIETNAM!” Alicia yelled, bounding in the kitchen shattering the quiet moment the girls had settled into with their breakfast. Carey and Pom sighed, watching as she effortlessly leaped onto the island in the middle of the kitchen. Her gray sweatpants slung low on her hips, her lilac sleep shirt wrinkled, and her braids still wrapped up in the bonnet on her head; she looked crazy.

“What in Sam Hill are you doing?!” Carey said, standing up and rushing to try and push the taller woman off.

“I have some good news, bitches! Dena’s coming home sooner than we thought!” Alicia was elated, it had been almost two months since Agent Sangria had been in contact with Statesman, and more importantly her roommates. She had been advised to keep all communications, few and far in between. Should there be a brother agency, it would be in Statesman's best interest to not alert them of their presence in their territory; what if they were a rogue organization? The return of the lively Latina was definitely a cause for celebration.

“Wait, how do you know?” Carey asked, realizing that Alicia wasn’t budging off her pedestal. She looked over at Pom who looked just as puzzled as she was, no one had any recent contact with Dena. Everything had been dark. Pom got off the couch to get closer to them.

“Well, as y’all know, I spend most of my free time in the lab with Ginger. And I was able to create a concealable communication device!” Alicia said proudly, taking what looked like a normal bottle of concealer. But the girls knew better, Alicia was a crazy tech wiz and inventor. Her and Ginger both could put Tony Stark to shame.

“How does that shit even work… it’s fuckin’ makeup.” Pom questioned. She couldn’t remember the last time she had set foot in the lab, or the last time she wore makeup. Pom would rather be training and being troublesome with the male agents than behind a vanity or in a lab coat.

“Listen, I know it looks a little out of sorts but I promise it works! And the cosmetic part of the contraption is fully functional.” Alicia opened the packaging and did a swatch of the makeup on her arm. A perfect match.

“Say we can’t take any phones or even our glasses with us? Who’s gonna suspect a woman with a compact mirror and bottle of concealer? The idea is we use the idea of the fragile female that men have created against them. But my feminist spiel aside, I talked to Dena and she should be here by the end of next week!” Alicia got down from the counter, slipping her “concealer” into the front pocket of her black backpack.

Pom leaned against the counter as she smiled, "You’re a genius.” She said to Alicia softly.

“I’m no Ginger Ale, but I try! Also, I’ve been making a bat prototype for you in the lab! I meant to surprise you for your birthday but I can’t wait any longer.” Pom smiled at this. Alicia started to continue but paused. The Statesman designated ringtone grew louder from where it was playing on their tv. Well, duty calls.

The three agents made their way into the living room, Carey grabbing the remote from its spot on the ottoman. Once they had all settled themselves on the comfy couch, she pressed the answer button.

“Good morning, Angels!” Champagne greeted; the great window behind his head visible on the tv screen. It wasn’t uncommon for Champ to contact them while they were at home; saving more discreet missions for the four of them to take care of. It saved time, resources, and quite frankly more lives than if they were to send Whiskey, Tequila, or any of the other male agents instead. Hence the moniker, “Angels”.

“Good morning, Champ!” Alicia crowed, shifting to sling her legs across Pom and Carey’s laps making herself comfortable. Pom hastily grabbed Alicia’s feet from her lap and started to tickle them with no remorse, and her loud and mischievous laughs filled the room.

“Would y’all stop? Jesus Christ.” Carey said, pushing Alicia’s legs off the couch and inserting herself between her and Pom. “Sorry, Champ, continue please!” Carey said, turning her attention back to the man on the screen. Pom was holding back her laughter as best as she could.

“Well, when y’all are done horsing around, I have something for y’all to take care of. As you know, the senator is hiding his daughter trying to make it seem like she’s been kidnapped. Tonight, he is hosting a gala to impress some of the big wigs in the country and gain more support. I need y’all to infiltrate the gala and expose this sun’ a bitch before he can carry this tomfoolery on any longer.”

“Do I gotta dress all fancy and shit?” Pom asked, pulling her jacket tighter around herself. She had makeup, she hated dresses, and if she didn't hate her unruly hair getting in her face, she'd hate doing it too.

“I would prefer it if you did. The senator is very conservative, and has a strict dress code for this event.” Champagne said. Pom sighed angrily at this.

“Awe, c’mon, Pomegranate. I thought you liked playing dress up.” the screen expanded to show that none other than Agent Whiskey sat next to Champagne at the grand mahogany meeting room table.

“Whiskey!” Pom exclaimed with joy. A big grin was on her face now. She tucked her messy waves of hair behind her ears. Pom could feel her heart racing with pure happiness. Whiskey was the closest thing she had to a father, and she practically glowed in his attention.

“Howdy darlin’, you ready to join your old man on the dance floor?” Whiskey tipped his hat, grinning at the young agent.

The adopted father and daughter duo were the best partnership to come out of Statesman; Whiskey having taken Pom under his wing, saying that he saw himself in her. A troubled girl who needed a little guidance and TLC, and had unfathomable potential. Whiskey had promised Pom’s mother that he would ensure that the young woman would be taken care of while she was in the states. A promise that had been well kept.

“While I’m all for sappy reunions, I need you, girls, to get gussied up and make your way to that gala ASAP! I’m sending Whiskey to pick y’all up at 0800, We got a party to crash.” Champagne said, ending the video call.

Alicia stood and looked at her phone, an invitation addressed to a Penelope Vontrapp, and associates lit up her screen. “Well Miss Pom, or should I say Miss Penelope; it looks like you get to play the part of the daughter of some rich oil tycoon.”

“Fuck you, I’m not wearing any fuckin’ makeup!!” Pom said while jumping off the couch to sprint up to her room before the others could stop her.

“YOU’RE LUCKY THEY’RE MAKING A BIG DONATION IN YOUR HONOR! OTHERWISE, I’D BE FORCING YOU INTO A DRESS AND PUTTING SOME BLUSH ON THOSE CHEEKS!” Alicia shouted up the stairs, knowing that Pom was going to put on the same suede pantsuit she wore to all Statesman functions. It would be a cold day in hell before anyone forced her into a dress, and Alicia knew better than to even try and wrestle her into one.

“Will you curl my hair, please? May as well get some joy out of tonight.” Carey remarked, making her way up the stairs. Alicia noticed the sad air around her friend, she stopped reaching out to grab her friend's arm.

“What’s wrong? You were all chipper early, now you’re all….” Alicia made a fart noise with her mouth, hoping it would bring a small smile to her Carey’s face.

“It’s nothing, I promise. Just forget it, okay?” Carey pulled her arm away, continuing up the stairs. But it wasn’t really anything. Was it right for her to feel a little envious that Whiskey hadn’t acknowledged her? Had Champ told him something? Or was she just overthinking? Either way, they had a mission to focus on, and this worrying and pining could wait.

(a/n: thank you all for reading and standing by while i get in the swing of things. i now have a masterlist, and post with who and what yall can request will be coming soon. <3 roach)

#Statesman:Ablaze #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x oc #agent tequila x reader #agent tequila x oc #agent whiskey fic #oc fic #jack daniels #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x reader #Pedro Pascal #kingsman golden circle #statesman

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whencallstheheart · 4 years ago

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Thank you all so much for the questions. They were fun to answer. There were some repeats so I skipped over them when they came up again. If there’s more you’d like to know don’t hesitate to ask! 😀

It’s a little long so I’ll put it under the cut.

I love a “ask me anything”!! what made you such a fan of the show that you started this blog??

I think I initially saw a tweet from John Stamos congratulating Lori on her new show and that was the first I had heard of it. I think a couple episodes had already aired. I hadn’t ever watched anything on Hallmark prior. I'm a huge Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman fan (which was the first fandom blog I started) and when I watched the first episode it felt sort of reminiscent of that. There wasn't really anything on Tumblr about it at that time so I started the blog and now here we are.

Are you a fan of historical dramas in general? If yes, have you seen Outlander?

I don't watch many historical dramas but, yes, I have seen Outlander. I'm behind but I do really enjoy that show and plan to catch up eventually. Another one I liked a lot was Jamestown. I also enjoy The Alienist. And Dr. Quinn, of course.

Where do you live (city) and what do you do to pay the bills?

I live outside Portland, Oregon and I work for a large bank in operations. Currently working from home.

Were you ever a member of the crazy fanatical hearties group on FB?? Are they really that deluded about the show’s shortcomings?

I am a member of the Facebook group but don't participate or really look at anything but I like to be able to see if someone important posts something. I just see whatever happens to end up on my feed when I'm scrolling. Yes, but they're also not allowed to comment anything negative. It's highly policed so fans can't really have discussions even if they wanted to.

What is your favourite food of all time? The food you would want as your last meal, the food that makes you glad to be alive.

These are hard questions. Maybe a cheeseburger and fries. I also really love Mexican food. One of my favorite meals is something my mom makes which is porcupine meatballs. It's basically a beef meatball with rice in it with a tomato soup sauce served over mashed potatoes. Throw some peas on top and I'm a happy camper.

How do you stay so positive about the show when it disappoints you? Like the disaster of season 5!

There were some good things about season 5. It's definitely just a mindset. I was sick of people being so negative and dragging me down that hole with them. I still enjoyed a lot of aspects about the show. I still cared about the characters. I wanted to focus on those good, positive things and be happy that we still had a show to watch. And even now, I don't have many expectations. I just want to watch and enjoy it and not pick everything apart to the point where I hate it. It's not a perfect show but it's fun to watch and that's all that matters at the end of the day. There’s plenty of other things in the world to be mad at and a Hallmark show doesn’t need to be one of them, you know?

What's your favorite pastime and favorite non-Hallmark show? Also, have a lovely day :)

I basically have no hobbies. Tumblr is my second job. I watch a lot of TV (too much these days) and I like listening to podcasts as well. I play games on my phone. That's honestly about it. I'm super interesting, obviously. My favorite show right now would have to be Yellowstone which just ended its third season. I'm pretty obsessed. Otherwise, The Killing is high up there. ER. Dr. Quinn.

If you could a character on WCTH to hang out with for a day, who would it be? If you could pick an actor on WCTH to hang with for a day, who would it be?

Rosemary/Pascale for sure.

What is your fav color? Music? Other TV shows? Books? What type of job do you have? What State or Country are you from?

Probably blue but it depends on what I'm picking the color for.

I'm not huge into music or have anyone in particular I really love. I've listened to The Chicks a lot lately. I recently watched The Greatest Showman for the first time and promptly downloaded that soundtrack. I don't know. I just listen to whatever suits my mood. If I'm listening to the radio, it's usually Top 40 stations or sometimes I'll throw a Russian pop station into the mix which is fun.

I watch a lot of shows. I watch General Hospital and have for like 15 years at least. Grey's Anatomy, Station 19, Roswell, all the Bachelor nation stuff including some foreign series, Love Island UK, a bunch of ghost hunting and adventure shows lately on the Travel Channel, random shows on Netflix, A Million Little Things, 911 and 911: Lone Star, Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist, 90 Day Fiance and all its shows, The Rookie, Prodigal Son, New Amsterdam. I could go on.

I don't read as much as I would like to. I enjoy the Virgin River series by Robyn Carr a lot (also a Netflix show now but the books are much better). I mostly just read the trashy free ebooks in the Apple bookstore.

Realistically, could this show run for as long as Heartland has?? Does it have that kind of staying power with the fandom and l do wonder - is it growing it’s audience in any way? Cos that would help it stick around for longer.

Of course. I think it'll be around for a long time. We're at 8 seasons and with the reset, we're basically starting over with Elizabeth which is really exciting. The audience certainly isn't shrinking. I think the ratings generally stay about the same but more and more people find the show on Netflix all the time.

This is a very girly question but whose wedding dress is closest to your style - Rosemary’s , Elizabeth’s or Clara’s?

Rosemary's was my favorite.

Do you have a favourite colour?? And a favourite brand of make up?

I only wear mascara now because of masks and I honestly might not go back to wearing makeup. I don't have a brand in particular that is my go-to but I just stick with drugstore makeup. It works good enough for me since I don’t really care or spend much time on that stuff.

hi! I have some questions for ya! How did you get into watching WCTH? Do you enjoy period dramas in general? If you do, would you recommend any? Is anyone in your family or friends fans of WCTH? Do you like to read? Those are kind of a lot but I’d love to hear from you! Really enjoy your blog and fellow WCTH fans! Thanks for all you do!

No one I know personally watches it. Or at least I don't know if they do.

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