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doctortreklock · 6 years ago

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The Breakfast Club - July 29, 2019

Part of my Resolution19. Read it on AO3.

Prompt: Breakfast in Avengers Tower

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Title: the movie “The Breakfast Club”

Words: 1573

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The communal kitchen of Avengers Tower was in its usual morning uproar. Clint was sitting on the edge of the counter juggling eggs and cracking them one by one into the fry pans next to him, where Bruce was making omelettes with the vegetables Natasha had just chopped up. On the other stove, Steve was stirring a huge vat of oatmeal. Thor was in charge of squeezing orange juice, and had managed to splash every counter and flat surface in a four foot radius. Tony was nominally in charge of setting the table, though in actuality he was just sitting at the table fiddling with something on his StarkPad and complaining loudly about freeloaders and obsolete tech.

"--running missile software on eight-inch floppy drives, I tell you--"

"I think that's enough green pepp--or not, we can always add more."

"Maybe they didn't want you trying to interrupt a nuke launch."

"I require more oranges! Where may I find more of this mighty fruit?"

"It's well within my rights as an American citizen to know our nuclear warheads are--"

"I don't really think anyone believes you're curious out of 'patriotic duty', Stark."

"Where are the oranges?"

"Children," Phil chided gently, gliding into the room in full Agent Coulson mode and immediately taking control of the room. "Thor, there are more oranges in the pantry, bottom shelf on the left in the back. Stark, if the United States government required your input on nuclear protocols, they would request it. Natasha, I believe that's probably enough green pepper for Captain Rogers. Clint, please get off the counter; we prepare food there. Bruce, Captain, how long do we have left on breakfast?" His voice was firm, but Clint could see the warmth in his eyes that he only had when dealing with his favorite group of rogue elements.

The bustle of hungry superheroes fell instantly into smoothly organized chaos.

"Half a minute," Bruce called, absently poking at one pan.

"Just about ready," Steve declared. "Clint?"

Clint had just finished replacing the unused eggs in their carton in anticipation of the Captain's request. He hopped off the counter and whipped open a drawer, pulling a large, lopsided, crocheted potholder out of it and tossing it over to the table, where it landed neatly in the middle. Then he hip-checked the drawer closed and leaned over to give his boyfriend a short, but very warm welcome.

"Hi," he whispered after breaking the kiss.

"Good morning," Phil whispered back, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepening in a smile.

"Oi, Barton!" Tony yelled, not looking up from where he was poking at his StarkPad. "You can canoodle with Agent later."

"Yeah, yeah," Clint shouted, waving an arm vaguely in Tony's direction and peeling off from Phil to help Bruce plate omelettes.

By now Natasha had neatly cleaned up her chopping station, the offending green pepper and her knives nowhere to be seen. Instead, she slid neatly through the whirlwind of her teammates to end up next to the silverware drawer and started picking through the haphazard mess of utensils with ease.

"'Scuse me," Steve said loudly, lugging the heavy tub of hot oatmeal through the kitchen easily. "Pardon me, coming through."

Thor stepped out of the pantry with an armful of oranges and nearly got clipped by the steaming pot. "Apologies, friend," he called, neatly sidestepping around Steve and back to his squeezing station. "I had merely gone to fetch the object of my quest and did not see you there!"

"'S fine," Steve said, concentrating on maneuvering the heavy pot around Tony's head, since the inventor didn't seem inclined to move.

Finally, the large silver stock pot settled on the potholder with a thud, and Steve sighed happily. "There."

"Hmm?" Tony looked up to find the oatmeal right in front of him and a supersoldier behind him. "Cool." He craned his head straight back to meet Steve's eyes. "We got any bowls?"

Steve put his hands on his hips and scowled down at the billionaire. "You do have legs you know. They're not even broken," he pointed out.

Tony just laid the back of one hand dramatically over his forehead and leaned sideways off his chair to get the appropriate depth to the motion. "Oh, but my good Captain," he exclaimed dramatically, "I couldn't possibly." He gave Steve his biggest, most beseeching eyes.

Steve wavered.

"Tony," Phil warned mildly from the other side of the kitchen where he had busied himself with the coffeepot.

Tony huffed. "Fine." He left his StarkPad on the table and pushed himself to his feet. "Don't know why I have to do this," he muttered. "It's my tower, after--Hey!" he shouted as a spoon clipped him on its way to the table. "What was that for?"

"Oops," Natasha deadpanned, holding a fistful of silver.

Clint snickered. He was attempting to balance two plates on each arm and one on the top of his head, but the omelette on his head was wobbling dangerously with each laugh.

"Two at a time, Clint," Phil told him exasperatedly, reaching for the plate, but before the senior agent could reach it, the plate had already tipped past the point of no return.

Natasha caught it deftly, twisting her wrist neatly to avoid losing the omelette. "Ostorozhno, yastrebka," she scolded him.

"Sorry, Nat." Clint's grin was bashful.

Bruce sighed good-naturedly, the last two plated omelettes safely in his hands. "If we're quite finished...."

"Why is the floor sticky?" Tony wrinkled his nose as his sneakers stuck to the tile floor.

"I have vanquished the orange fruits and emerged victorious with pitchers of glorious orange juice!" Thor proclaimed, brandishing a pair of very large pitchers brimming with freshly squeezed orange juice.

"Oh," Tony said, staring at the disaster of orange where he used to have a counter. "Is someone going to clean that up?"

"On it," Steve said. "Thor, the juice can go on the table. Tony, bowls." Steve looked pointedly at the cupboard behind the genius.

"Make way, friends, for the sweet orange nectar which I have wrung from yon wasted fruits!" Thor swapped places with Steve, managing to set the pitchers on the table without losing any or running into Clint, Bruce, or Natasha, all of whom were now flitting around the table with their plates and silverware.

"I'm getting there, I'm getting there," Tony said. "Hold your horses, Cap." He pulled the door to one of the upper cabinets open with a flourish, then paused and frowned. "Aren't the bowls in here?"

A suited arm cut across his vision and closed the cabinet before opening the next one over. "They're in here, the same place they've been for the past six months," Phil said, holding the door with one hand and sipping the coffee held in his other. "Grab seven. Clint," he called. "If you're done bothering Dr. Banner and Natasha, you could get the rest of the oatmeal fixings out."

"On it," Clint called, tossing Phil a grin and a sloppy salute.

Phil smiled into his coffee mug.

"That's disgusting," Tony said, gaping at Phil. "The two of you, in a public venue no less--"

"Bowls, Stark," Phil said, letting go of the door and turning to survey the table. The corner of his mouth turned up a little when Tony yelped at the cabinet door auto-closing on him.

It was almost time to eat. The table was just missing-- Natasha walked past him with seven glass tumblers balanced in her hands. Perfect.

Clint and Bruce finished putting the last of the brown sugar and raisins on the table around the same time Steve finished cleaning up the worst of the orange mess and Tony finally made it to the table with bowls. Phil topped off his coffee and joined them.

The seven of them converged at the table at the same time, pulling out chairs and sitting down before passing bowls of oatmeal around the table at high speed.

"Pass the raisins over here?"

"I thought you already had the raisins?"

"Didn't we say we were going to get two bags of raisins next time? Didn't we?"

"Where did the brown sugar go?"

"Give me the orange juice."

"Weren't we going to get dried cranberries for the oatmeal too?"

"Wow, that's--ahem--that's a lot of green peppers."

"I don't understand how you people can eat raisins. Ugh."

"The small grapes are most pleasing in a meal of steamed oats! You would do well to hold your tongue."

"Clint, if you throw one more raisin at Tony, we are going to be having words later, and you will not enjoy it."

"...Yes, sir."

"Wow, Barton, he's got you whipp--"

"See me after breakfast, Mr. Stark."

"...Fine."

Finally, Steve cleared his throat and looked around the table with his best, most earnest, team-building smile. "I'd like to thank you all for making time in your schedules for team breakfast."

There was a lot of poking at congealed oatmeal and scrutinizing glasses at that, the exceptions being Thor's sharp attention and Tony's uncomfortable scoffing. Phil just watched the whole thing with an air of faint amusement.

"It doesn't seem like a lot, but every bit helps when it comes to acting as a united force in the field." Then Steve put on his brightest bond-selling grin. "I'm sure we're only going to be closer after doing dishes."

That got him pelted with raisins.

Nat's Russian: Ostorozhno, yastrebka - Careful, little hawk (diminutive).

#Resolution19 #Marvel #MCU #C/C #Phlint #Avengers #Breakfast #lots of team building and food #really it's just oatmeal and omelettes #but there's a lot of it #I can't believe July's almost over #oh dear

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scaryscarecrows · 2 years ago

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On a scale from one to ten, how well can the squad + jason cook

Jason: 7.5. He'll try anything once, though oatmeal--instant or not--is his nemesis. Cream of wheat doesn't work out so well, either. But his omelettes could bring about world peace.

Antoine: 7, but lazy. He's more likely to have three or four easy dinners that he just rotates through, but every so often he'll be stricken with the urge to Cook. He makes a great jambalaya, and he knows how to make gumbo, though he and Frank are very divided over who makes the better one.

Frank: Solid 8. Home Southern Cooking, right here, but there's a 55% he'll call the pizza dude. His best, impress-anyone dish is his pulled pork. He could commit murder in broad daylight and his neighbors would cover for him.

Trent: 5. He can grill. That's about it, though he grills well, so that's something.

Riley: 4.5. Riley makes a really, really good ramen broth, thanks to his grandmother, but he's more likely to call for takeout than cook. He also fucked up rice once. In a rice cooker. He's not sure what happened.

Jimmy: 1. Maybe 1.5 on a good day. See: green drink.

Mark: 7-ish. He doesn't usually have time, but every so often he will fry tacos. He also knows how to make tamales, but those are a pain and he doesn't do it often.

#asks #the squad #jason todd #arkhamverse #scaryverse #cooking

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salt-and-spice · 3 years ago

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Let’s talk for a moment about breakfast stuffings, and some variations on that theme that you could treat a character (or yourself) to:

A classic hearty breakfast with eggs, bacon or sausage, and toast or a fluffy biscuit. Perhaps a short stack of pancakes or some crispy fried potatoes on the side, or some fruit to help cut through all those heavy foods. To be enjoyed with orange juice and a hot beverage. This menu is pretty versatile as far as fic types go! You could easily have a character wind up heavy, dazed, and very content afterwards, or have them eat to the point of an aching stomach if you prefer.

Continental breakfasts are known for being light, but they’re also generally served buffet-style, so a character can eat to their heart’s content. Let’s not underestimate the versatility of bread -- a character could fill up on bagels with cream cheese, toast with peanut butter, croissants with butter and jam, and pastries of all kinds (cheese danishes, cinnamon rolls, pain au chocolat, coffee cake, blueberry muffins, apple turnovers, glazed doughnuts, I could go on...) Plus cold meats and cheeses, fruits of all kinds, and yogurt or cottage cheese. There’s something fun about the kind of fullness that results from filling up on “light” foods -- not terribly heavy or sleepy, just immensely stretched out.

A big sweet breakfast is a great option for characters with a sweet tooth, or if you want to write a fic where that stuffed stomach doesn’t feel so good afterwards. Think a big stack of pancakes or a pile of french toast with whipped cream, chocolate chips, and/or sweet fruit compote. Optional additions of a giant cinnamon roll that just can’t be passed up and a big mug of hot chocolate to drink.

It’s hard not to overindulge on a fancy brunch! And from a writing perspective, it can really fun to describe characters getting to treat themselves to something a little extravagant. There are so many possibilities for the main dish: omelettes loaded with cheese and vegetables, eggs benedict (perhaps with smoked salmon), scrambler bowls with eggs and meat served over fried potatoes, breakfast tacos, bagel sandwiches, quiche... Add on sides of fruit and bread, plus some juice and coffee (or a few cocktails, if your character would be into boozy brunch) and you’ve got the perfect recipe for a very full and well-treated tummy.

If you’re looking for something more simple, oatmeal is a really good food to fill up on. It falls into the same camp as potatoes, rice, and pasta -- heavy yet easy to digest, and so likely to provide a really satisfying feeling of fullness without troubling your stomach. It’s also easy to dress up! Add sprinkles of cinnamon, brown sugar, or maple syrup, and stir in dried fruit, chopped nuts, or a little bit of milk or cream, and you’ll have something both filling and delicious.

#stuffing ideas #tummy fic resources #still lowkey trying to figure out what kinds of posts work best for this blog c:

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thenewfuture · 3 years ago

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From what I know from the ingredients listed and regular breakfast meals, you could make a really hearty and good omelette plus some orange juice, or some pancakes and juice with a side of bacon or such.

*Hajime is making omelets while humming a little tune...*

*Makoto and the others walk in* Oh, who's making breakfast-?

Hajime...?

Hey Makoto, just in time. My omelets are just about done.

You....you did this...? *Makoto looks and sees on the table an assortment of pancakes, waffles, fruits, eggs that are boiled, scrambled and sunny side up, bacon, sausages, rice, toast and french toast, quiches, crepes, oatmeal, and now omelets*

My goodness....you...certainly have been busy...

Yeah I wanted to make more, like fried rice but I was cautious of the sodium intake already. And steak to go with some of the eggs, but that'll take forever to thaw out. I also wanted to make hash browns but I just settled on potatoes instead.

*Ding!*

Oh, my biscuits! *Hajime goes to the oven*

My, if I had known you would've been this courteous, I would've told Chiaki to wake you up sooner.

I'm just doing my part around here. It's my way of saying thank you.

*He puts the biscuits down into a basket* Careful with these, they just came out.

........

You didn't....poison any of this, did you?

Byakuya!

I'm just taking necessary precautions, Makoto.

I don't know why don't you ask, Hina and Hiro there?

Hmm?

*Hina and Hiro are busy stuffing their faces with some of the food*

Does that answer your question?

Th-those two idiots are just reckless with their lives.

So you don't want some of this french toast?

.......

....I'll take some, thanks.

#asks #anonymous #danganronpa #hajime hinata #makoto naegi #kyoko kirigiri #byakuya togami #aoi asahina #yasuhiro hagakure #super danganronpa 2 #danganronpa 3 #the new future #jabberwock island arc

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justthehiddleswrites · 4 years ago

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Accidently Married | Tom Hiddleston x OFC | Chapter 3 | And Miss Out on Mum Meeting the Girl You Married Without Telling Her? Not a Chance

A/N: Tom makes certain comments about an ex (who is unnamed). It is a fictional girlfriend, take from it what you will. Keep your hate to yourself.

SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Molly Bishop)

Summary: Tom is stuck in a news cycle from hell; Molly is stuck in the dead end job of bartending with a pile of student and credit debt. Tom has an idea to solve all their problems. Get married, get the paparazzi off his back, divorce after a year and Tom pays off Molly’s debts. Tom has everything figured out, that is until he sees Molly as more than a just a friend and so does someone else. In this vying for affections who will win, the handsome Brit or the boy from Boston?

This Chapter: Molly finally gets to meet Luke and they try to convince him that this marriage is not some elaborate plot to manipulate the press. And Tom makes a critical error. We learn more about Molly and her past.

Warnings: fake marriage, smut (vaginal sex), mentions of: child abuse/neglect, foster care, substance abuse, cheating.

TAGLIST IS OPEN! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED! THANK YOU FOR READING!

–

Tom regretted drinking two cups of espresso the next morning before heading to Luke’s. He definitely regretted not eating anything more than a piece of toast with butter and marmalade. Even after Molly offered to make something for him.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to make you eggs, an omelette? I could probably manage some French toast before we have to leave.” Molly sipped her tea as she ate some oatmeal.

French toast sounded divine at the moment as Tom’s stomach did somersaults. Molly’s knee bounced in the passenger seat on the way to the Prosper office.

“Do you think Luke will yell at me?” Molly asked. “I don’t do well when people yell at me.”

Tom’s head snapped over at her. She sighed.

“Foster parents are not always kind. Bio parents can be worse.” She wrung her hands.

He reached over and squeezed Molly’s knee. “I promise I won’t let him yell at you.”

“Thank you, Tom. Are we telling him the truth?”

“Only if necessary.”

“Then what are we telling him?”

“That I went to Vegas, and I fell madly in love with you and on a whim we got married.”

“A fanciful tale.” Her head dropped to her chest.

“Oh, I don’t know, darling. You sell yourself short. You’re bright, funny, caring and dare I even say easy on the eyes.”

Molly blushed. “Thank you. You are not so bad yourself. Although I seriously question your dietary habits.”

Tom chuckled. “I’ll work on it. And I hope after all of this we will be good friends.”

“Me too.”

“Looks like we are here.” Tom parked the car on the street. He hustled around to open Molly’s door and help her out. “Time to face the firing squad.” Her eyes widened. “Kidding!”

By the time the meeting was done, Molly wished it had been a firing squad.

“Luke, this is Molly Bishop, now Hiddleston.” Tom wrapped his arm around her waist. “My wife.”

“My condolences.” Luke shook Molly’s hand.

Molly’s brow furrowed. “I…”

“Of all the stupid shit you have ever fucking done—” Luke started in on Tom.

“Luke, watch your tone.” Tom jabbed a finger in his publicist’s face. “You are not to yell at Molly.” His bright blue eyes flashed and his fists clenched.

Luke took a step back. “Right. Take a seat and let’s see if we can straighten this out.”

They sat next to each other. Molly reached for Tom’s hand and he took it. Luke sat down behind his desk, staring at the two of them. Luke pinched his nose hard and took several deep breaths. Before speaking, he poured a glass of water and dropped two Alka-Seltzer into the water. Molly stared at the whole thing. Tom leaned over.

“For later. Luke says I give him indigestion.” he whispered.

“And headaches.” Luke added.

“I can understand the feeling.” Molly muttered under her breath.

“I beg your pardon!” Tom twisted around to face Molly. “Et tu. Is this about the vegetables?”

“It wouldn’t kill you to eat one every so often. You’re not 21 anymore.”

Tom gritted his teeth. “I said I would work on it. Can we not talk about this right now?”

“You’re the one who brought it up. I was just making a comment.”

Luke’s head bounced back and forth like watching a tennis match, a smirk growing on his face.

“You two are good. Really good. Damn Tom, the lengths you will go to… hiring an actress to pretend to be your wife, that’s—”

“We got married, Luke. In Vegas.” Tom retorted. “Darling, do you have the copy of the license?”

Molly grumbled. “I do, but we are not done with the whole diet thing.” She rummaged through her purse and produced the folded piece of paper. “Show him the photos.” She whispered to Tom as she handed over the license.

“I’m not showing him the photos unless I have to.” Tom hissed.

“Show me the photos, Tom.” Luke beckoned him.

Tom side eyed Molly and handed over the license and his phone. Luke glanced at the license and then scrolled through the photos, eyes growing wider. He zoomed in on one and squinted.

“Is that a spider ring?” he asked.

“His name is Clive.” Tom deadpanned.

Luke cuts his eyes at Tom. “Of course, you named it. You wouldn’t happen to have the ring, would you?” He turned to Molly.

She let loose a breath, exasperated. “Honestly,” she jabbed a finger at Tom and then Luke. “I was not expecting the Spanish Inquisition.” She dug through her purse again. “You are both lucky that I planned ahead.” Molly slammed the two Tiffany boxes on the desk. “There, here is your pound of flesh.”

Luke opened the boxes and found the spider ring and plastic gem ring. His eyes went to their proper rings and then ran his hands through his hair.

“Holy shit, you got married.”

Tom rolled his eyes. “I have been saying that for the last 24 hours, mate. Can we move on?”

Molly giggled.

“I… I… apologize. Sorry.” He sputtered, he turned to Molly. “I’m sorry, Molly. You have no idea the things this man has put me through.”

“I can imagine.”

“Hey! I—”

“Not talking to you, Tom.” Luke held up a hand. “I am talking to your bride. Clearly the reasonable one. Although she did marry you, so…”

Tom slumped in the chair. “Two of you. I thought you were on my side.”

Molly reached over and rubbed his arm. “I’m always on your side, honey.”

Tom smiled and leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Thank you, darling. Do you believe me now, Luke?”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but yes, I do.” He slammed his hand on his desk, rattling his water. “Now let’s talk about these.” He held up several newspapers.

Forty-five minutes later, they finally ended the meeting. Tom was starving. Luke grilled Molly about her background. By the end of everything, Tom now knew that Molly spent the ages of 12-18 in foster care, went to college where she worked two jobs to make ends meet, and has no contact with her younger brother who was adopted. Tom felt a twinge of guilt listening to Molly tell her life story. He never really bothered to ask.

Luke led them to the door but stopped short.

“How did your mom take the news, Tom?” Luke asked. Tom froze and paled. Luke leaned in. “You did tell her?”

Molly glanced between them. “I thought you called her when we got home.”

Tom ran his hands through his hair. Little bits stuck up. His mouth fell open and his eyes widened. “I forgot. I was distracted by someone yelling at me.”

“You haven’t told your mother about us?!” Molly screeched.

Luke chuckled, which soon turned into a full belly laugh. “You are so dead, Tom.” Molly gasped. “You will be fine, Molly, but pray for your husband. There is nothing scarier in this world than Diana Hiddleston mad at her only son.”

Molly gulped. “I will keep that in mind. Now if you excuse us, we have some calls to make.”

Tom nodded, still reeling from the fact he didn’t tell his mum, or his sisters, that he got married. Fake or not. He hoped she hadn’t seen any of the photos yet. But knowing Emma and Sarah, they sent her the links. “Right, calls.”

Molly pushed Tom out of the office and towards the elevator. She waved bye to Luke as the doors closed.

“That went better than expected.” Molly shifted her weight from side to side.

“Yeah, yeah!” Tom blinked and came back to reality. “You were brilliant. What made you think to bring the rings?”

“People have the tendency to believe you when you can present physical evidence. That, coupled with the photos, lends credibility. I mean, who gets married with a plastic spider ring?” She laughed and Tom joined in.

“Genius, really. Luke would have never—” Tom’s stomach rumbled. He blushed. “You were right I should have eaten something.”

Molly stretched to reach his cheek and gave him a quick peck. “You will soon learn I am always right. Let’s find you some food and then you call your mother.”

“Fine.”

They found a place for Tom to grab a sandwich since it was too late for breakfast and not quite time for lunch. Molly stared on as Tom inhaled the sandwich, a bag of potato chips, and a bottle of water.

“Did you taste any of that?”

Tom glanced up at her as he poked the last bit of the sandwich into his mouth. “Yes.”

She shoved a napkin towards him. “You have crumbs on your face.”

Tom swallowed. “Thanks.”

“Call your mother.”

Tom slouched. “Can’t we wait until we get home?”

“No.” She stared him down. “If you don’t do it, I will.” Molly lunged for his phone, but Tom was too fast and grabbed it first.

“I’m calling her right now.” He held the phone to his ear, praying it would go to voicemail.

“Tom!” Diana’s warm voice filled his ear. “How are you doing, love?”

“Doing good. A bit of jet lag, I was in Vegas over the weekend.”

Diana hummed. “And how is Luke?”

Tom chuckled. “Angry at me as always.”

“If you would just listen to him…”

“I like her.” Molly popped in.

Tom waved her off.

“I know, Mother. Listen,” He fidgeted with his hair again. Molly realized it was an absolute tell when Tom was nervous. “I was wondering if you might like to grab some lunch this week. We can catch up. So much as happened since I last saw you.”

“I would be delighted, Thomas. Why don’t you come up to the house? Does Wednesday work for you?”

Tom mouthed “Wednesday” to Molly, who shrugged her shoulders.

“Like I’m doing anything? You and Luke are the only people I know here.”

“Right.” He returned to the call. “Wednesday is perfect, mum. Noon?”

“It’s a date. Don’t forget to bring that wife of yours, Thomas. I am quite keen on meeting her.”

All the blood drained from Tom’s face. “I… I… can explain—”

“I’m sure you can. On Wednesday. I have to go, love. It was good to chat.” The line went dead.

Tom stared at the phone. “I’m so dead. She knows about you.”

“Oh, she knows. You are her son. And didn’t you mention having sisters? They totally ratted you out.” Molly smiled at him.

Tom had some appointments on Tuesday which kept his mind occupied from seeing his mother the next day. Molly took some time to figure out how to change her name, get a new passport, and figure out how to maneuver life in a foreign country. Tom took her to get a phone that would work.

“Here you go.”

The first thing she did was snap Tom to add to his contact list. He was laughing in the photo.

“Don’t use that one!” Tom pouted. “Let me pose.”

“But I like this one. It captures your essence.”

But now it is Wednesday morning. Tom woke up early to go for a run. Molly was already up, sipping tea in the living room.

“Can I join you?” she asked upon seeing Tom in workout gear.

“I run about three miles…”

“Sounds perfect. Give me two minutes.” She bounded off the couch towards her bedroom.

Tom fiddled with his headphones until Molly emerged in sneakers and workout leggings. Over the ear headphones around her neck.

“Ready to go.” She tucked her phone into a pocket. “I will just follow you.”

“Let me know if you need to turn around.” Tom winked as they set off.

They returned home about thirty minutes later.

“Sure you don’t want to go another mile?” Molly bounced on her feet.

Tom breathed hard. “Maybe another time. I’m a bit out of shape. You run?”

Molly nodded. “Most days I run. If I get up in time. I miss the gym.”

Tom chuckled. “We need to get you a membership. And I need to ..get into shape myself. Can’t let my wife show me up in paparazzi photos.” he half-joked.

Molly coughed. “They take photos of you running?!”

“Sometimes.” He took a sip of water, his heart rate going back to normal. “Definitely now with you in the picture.”

Molly raised an eyebrow, stepping towards him, grabbing the water bottle from him. “Think they are out there right now?”

Tom glanced around and sure enough, he spied a few cameras with zoom lenses down the street.

“Yup.”

Molly wrapped her arms around his neck. “Maybe we should give them a more scandalous photo.”

Tom leaned down. “What did you have in mind?” he smirked as Molly tugged his head towards her and her lips crashed against his. She sighed and Tom slipped his tongue into her mouth. Molly did the same. As he fisted the back of her shirt, Tom noticed one of Molly’s arms moving.

“AH!!” He screamed as the cold water poured down on his head and Molly jumped back laughing.

“I thought you needed a little cooling off.” she laughed.

Tom lunged for her with a smile on his face, droplets of water falling from his hair.

“You’ll pay for that!” Tom gave chase, while Molly dashed into the house, screaming and laughing.

She made it as far as the living room before Tom’s long legs caught up with her.

“Got you!”

Tom grabbed her by the waist to pull her towards him, but their feet slipped and they ended up on the couch. Tom on top of her. Their eyes locked for a moment before Tom scrambled to his feet.

“I’ll get you all wet.” he commented nervously. “I should…”

“Right.” Molly nodded, sitting up. “I’ll make some breakfast. Eggs and toast. I don’t know what your mother is planning on for lunch.”

“A light breakfast would be best.” Tom shook out his now soaked t-shirt and Molly caught a glimpse of his abs.

“No problem.” She smiled.

They both headed off in different directions. When it was time to leave for Diana’s house, Molly fidgeted with her casual dress and knee-high boots.

“Do I look okay?” she glanced at Tom in jeans and a sweater. “I’m overdressed. Look at you, casually gorgeous. I’m going to change. I have nothing to wear. Nothing to wear…” Molly’s face broke down.

Tom wrapped his arms around her. “What’s going on, darling?” She buried her head in his sweater. “You didn’t freak out like this when we went to go see Luke.”

“That was business. This is your mother. I don’t do well with families, particularly mothers. What if she hates me?”

He kissed the top of her head. “First off, you look beautiful. Second, if my mum hates anyone between the two of us, it will be me. She is going to love you, darling.”

Molly sniffled and dabbed her eyes with the back of her fingers. “Really?”

“I am 100% certain. Now let’s get on the road.”

Molly smiled and nodded. The fear wasn’t gone, but she felt better knowing Tom would be there with her. That fear came rushing back as they stood on the front step of the house of Diana Hiddleston. Tom reached for Molly first.

“I’ve got you, darling.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek right as the door opened.

“Gross, Tom. And at Mum’s house no less.” Emma gagged.

Tom’s cheeks turned a bright pink. “Emma! I didn’t expect you to be here.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “What a surprise.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “And miss out on Mum meeting the girl you married without telling her, not a chance.” Emma turned to Molly. “Emma.”

“Molly B… Hiddleston.” She smiled and extended her hand. Emma shook it with a firm grip.

“The papers didn’t give a name. She seems nice, Tom. Clearly she doesn’t know the real you.”

Tom continued to blush. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Em. Can we come in or are we eating on the front step?”

Emma held the door open wide and stepped aside. They stepped inside. “Mum’s in the kitchen.”

As if on cue, Diana’s voice rang out. “Is that them, Emma?”

“They just got here!” she yelled before turning back to them. “She’s been cooking all day.”

Molly gulped. Tom squeezed her hand. An older woman with grey white shoulder length hair. She came up to Tom's shoulder, if that.

“You were supposed to tell me when they got here.” she scolded Emma.

“I was on my way to tell you.”

“Go take the food out of the oven.”

“But…” Emma protested.

“Go, child. You’ll have the entire meal to listen to me yell. Right now I need a word with your brother.”

Emma pursed her lips as she walked into the kitchen but made a slashing throat gesture, mouthing the words “you’re so dead” at Tom before disappearing.

Diana wiped her hands on her apron. “Now where is my new daughter-in-law?”

Molly raised her hand. “That would be me. Molly, ma’am.”

Diana held open her arms and wrapped them around Molly tight. She realized where Tom got his hugging skills.

“You are just a doll. Is my son treating you well?”

Molly nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“So polite and much shorter than the last one. Right at eye height for me.”

“Mother…”

Diana waved Tom off. “And please call me Diana or Mum or Mom. I promise I don’t bite.”

Molly giggled. “Yes, ma.. Diana.”

Diana hugged her again before spinning to face her son.

“Tom.” She crossed her arms.

“Mum.” Tom grew very interested in the rug on the floor.

“Do I get a hug?” Diana smiled.

Tom looked up and grinned. “Always.” The two of them hugged tight, Tom bending at the knees to wrap his arms around her. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” Diana pulled back.

Her hand reached out and smacked Tom right upside the head. Tom cowered, covering his head.

“Mum!” he howled.

“You got married and didn’t tell me!”

“I was getting around to it. Luke distracted me!” Tom explained.

Diana smacked his arm. “Do not blame Luke for this, he is a saint! You were keeping this lovely girl away from me.”

Molly beamed as Diana smacked Tom one more time.

“You think I’m lovely?” she asked.

Diana turned to Molly. “Oh dear. You are perfectly charming. Unlike my wretch of a son.” Another smack to the chest.

“Really, Mum? In front of our guest?” Tom flinched.

“Molly is family.” Diana stopped, took a deep breath, and smiled. “Now with that sorted, let’s go eat.” She spun on her heel and headed back to the kitchen.

Tom hooked his arm with Molly’s. “My mother.”

“I like her.”

Emma and Diane pumped the two of them for every detail about this abbreviated courtship.

“A chapel in Vegas, Tom? Romantic.” Emma sneered.

“I thought so.” Molly added.

“Thank you, darling.” Tom leaned against her.

“Awww.” Emma commented.

Diana stood to clear the dishes as Emma examined Molly’s ring.

“Let me help you.” Tom rose to help, taking the rest of the dishes. Diana grabbed his arm when they reached the sink.

“I really like her, Thomas. You did well.”

“Thank you. She is something.” Tom smiled.

“Much better than the last girl you brought home.”

Tom frowned. “Mum, I…”

Diana held up her hand. “I know. Don’t mention her. But I will say this. There was something about her that didn’t sit right with me.”

“You never said anything to me.”

Diana smiled softly and cupped Tom’s cheek. “You seemed so in love and happy. And all I have ever wanted for all my kids is to be happy.”

“Oh.”

“But none of that matters. You have Molly now and the two of you have years of happiness ahead.”

Tom glanced over to where Emma and Molly hunched over Emma’s phone. Tom’s heart twinged with guilt.

“Right. Of course.” He smiled.

Molly burst out in laughter.

“What is so funny over there?” Tom called out, heading over to the table.

Emma giggled. “Just some old pictures.”

Tom’s face fell. “No, you didn’t…”

Molly giggled. “You were so skinny and that hair!”

The two girls fell into a fit of giggles as Diane placed a hand on Tom’s shoulder.

“Yes, I like her very much.” she whispered. “Why don’t we pull out the old picture albums?”

Tom groaned.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston angst #accidently married

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adhdarcheologist · 3 years ago

Text

Feeding Yourself on Site

Ok I’ll be the first to admit, I am not the poster child for this. I am notoriously bad at planning and bringing meals to the dig site. Doing it in my normal life is hard enough and then you add planning, a time limit to make and eat it plus the facilities available to you on site? It’s not great. But this is a super important part of digging. You’re using allot of energy and you need to eat. So here are some tips and favourite items I’ve complied to try and make that a reality.

Things you might always want to have

> Chocolate/ cookies > Tea/ instant coffee/ hot chocolate etc. > Electrolyte/ vitamin drink mix

These are just some basics you’ll probably want on site. When you’re digging the little mood boost provided by chocolate or cookies etc. Is invaluable. Not to mention that it’s pretty common to bring snacks to share with others and cookies or candies are always a hit. I’d also suggest a favourite warm beverage of choice cause sometimes you just need it to keep going. Most sites have hot water of some kind available but if it doesn’t I’d suggest bringing a thermos of it with you (even then it’s good to have your own cup/ mug to drink from).

Snacks are your friend

> Hummus + crackers and/or veggies > Fruit bars/ leather/ strips > Granola bars > Nuts or trail mix > Oat cakes > Cheese > Soup packets/ to go cups (my go to is miso soup packets)

Even if you can’t manage to make a full meal (which I never can), snacks are perfect. They usually come pre made and pre packaged and you can just throw them into your bag and you’re done. The two main things for this though is that 1. You want enough of them to keep you going, and 2. They need to be filling an healthy cause they’re replacing a meal. Even if you’re just packing snacks to add to a meal these principles stay the same, and worse comes to worse if it’s more than you eat that day you can keep it in your bag for the next.

Easy meals to bring

> The ever underrated sandwich

- Even if it’s just the components of a sandwich thrown together but eaten separately it’s always a solid option.

> Chickpea salad/ pasta salad

- Theses are good because they’re filling and easier to keep in the field than other salads. Throw some pasta or chickpeas together with some cucumber, red onion, herbs, peepers or tomatoes and toss with some oil and vinegar/ lemon juice and you’re good to go.

> Wraps or pancakes

- Like the sandwich you can throw anything in these. If you’re in Europe you can usually buy pre-made thin pancakes (or you can find them at IKEA).

> Oatmeal

- This can go either savoury or sweet depending on your taste and can be eaten hot or cold. For sweet i’d suggest adding seeds (chia, pumpkin, sunflower) and some kind of nut or seed butter, along with some dried fruit to bulk it out. Savoury I’d say add in some frozen veg (spinach, veg mix etc), hummus and some sort of veggie or regular sausage.

> Charcuterie/ smörgåsbord/ ploughman’s

- This is a fancy way of basically saying cold meat, bread, cheese, some veg, maybe a hard boiled egg. Plus some sort of spread like jam, marmalade, tahini etc for the bread.

> Frittata (thick omelette)

- Again sounds fancy but really just load up some whisked eggs with veg, meat, cheese, etc. And cut pieces to take with you as needed.

—

These are just some suggestions but of course everyone has their favourite foods. Just make sure that everything you bring can be eaten cold because you aren’t always guaranteed somewhere to heat food. And most importantly just remember that food is food. As long as you’ve gotten some sort of sustenance for the day that’s an achievement even if it’s not the ‘ideal’.

#archaeology #archaeologist #digging #archeology dig #food #snacks #adhd #neurodivergent #history #classics #anthropology #archeology #archeologist

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redgillan · 5 years ago

Text

Under Pastel Skies - 2

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 2,024

Warnings: none

A/N: I’m just going to remind you that this sugar daddy fic isn’t about smut. I love smut but it’s not what I’m focusing on here.

Bucky stood under the glass awning in front of the hotel, the neon green light illuminating the path to the automatic doors. He forced his eyes closed and listened to the sound of rain hitting the glass shelter.

It was just after 6:30 in the morning and he had been standing there for over ten minutes, trying to work up the courage to enter the building. He was sweating, trembling, breathing like he’d just run a marathon. Every sound around him seemed amplified; cars honking, people talking or listening to music. It was hell.

He desperately wanted to take a cab ride back to Brooklyn and hide in his apartment. Bucky had a strict routine -get up at six, eat, shave, shower, go for a walk, etc- and he needed it to keep his mind focused and his body healthy. Though lately, his therapist had encouraged him to stray from his routine if he felt like it. And he wanted to, but his body wasn’t cooperating.

Instead he just stood here, stuck between two choices that terrified him. He could go back home and hate himself for taking the ‘easy way out’, or he could take the plunge and enter the building. He had come here on a whim, but now that he was here he felt as if he really needed to see you. He didn’t even know if you were working.

He looked over his shoulder, he could almost see the metaphorical pack of wolves waiting for him. It would be easy to give in and let them take him. He could go back to his old life, his old habits, or he could jump off that metaphorical cliff and hope for the best.

Your chances are infinite. Anything can happen.

“Can I help you, sir?”

Bucky greeted the receptionist with a smile. He asked if he could have breakfast at the hotel restaurant and she agreed before leading him to the Bar Lounge.

The room was large, with row after row of square tables perfectly aligned. There were a few more private seats close to the bar and an oval buffet in the middle of the room. A woman in a dark grey suit scooped a small portion of scrambled eggs onto her plate next to two slices of toasted white bread. She raised her gaze to his and nodded in greeting.

The swing door that led to the kitchen burst open and Bucky turned his attention to the sound. You were carrying a large tank of orange juice to the buffet table, a pen tucked behind your ear and a piece of paper between your lips. There was a slight furrow between your brows as you set the tank on the table.

Your scuffed boots were gone, replaced by black ballet flats. Your pencil skirt rose up as you stretched to reach the highest part of the buffet. Bucky hastily looked away from your bare legs, not wanting to look like a total creep. Once you were done, you smoothed down your skirt and tucked your white shirt into your skirt.

Your hair was brushed away from your face and your lips were painted red, something dark and empowering, and it contrasted beautifully with your strict, uninspiring uniform, which only intended to erase any sense of individuality.

“Hi, how can I h- Hey, I know you,” you said, approaching him. “You’re Bucky.”

He bashfully looked at his shoes. “Yeah, hi.” He cleared his throat and raised his gaze to yours. “I was hoping to run into you. I, uh, I can’t stop thinking about our talk.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I was rude and brusque, and you were incredibly nice. I really feel like an ass.”

You chuckled. “It’s fine. Honestly, I was nervous, too. You should have seen me –I was a complete mess.”

“Could have fooled me,” he replied with a grin. “Though you did say that meeting me was like choosing between a pack of wolves or jumping off a cliff.”

“Gosh!” You facepalmed. “See? A complete mess!” You gestured to the table behind you. “Have you eaten yet? Sit down, it’s on me.” He opened his mouth to protest but you cut him off. “You paid for the taxi. It’s only fair.”

Amused, he shook his head and followed you to the buffet table. Everything looked and smelled delicious. He spotted several glass cereal dispensers filled with frosted flakes, Cap'n Crunch, Lucky Charms and good old Fruit Loops.

“We also have French toasts, pancakes, croissants, turnovers, omelettes, eggs, four different types of bread with margarine, butter, jam, Nutella, or marmalade,” you said without pausing for a breath, “freshly sliced fruits, a variety of yogurts, granola, oatmeal, orange juice, apple juice, Danish pastries, muffins and a great selection of teas.”

“And that’s it?” Bucky asked, his face breaking into a teasing smile. You liked the way his eyes crinkled at the corners right before he smiled.

You pouted your lips while you thought. “Actually no, we also have scrambled eggs –which, frankly, I don’t recommend. They come in a plastic bag and we have to heat them up in the microwave. It’s a little gross. You can try the sausage and bacon though, unless you don’t eat meat.”

“And coffee?” He found your flustered reaction to his teasing absolutely adorable.

“Yes, of course,” you said, biting your bottom lip. “Sorry, I get a little excited sometimes.”

“I understand,” he nodded. “That’s a pretty great buffet, though I’ll stay clear of the scrambled eggs.”

You took a few steps toward the kitchen and turned back to him, a little apologetic cringe on your face. “Um, how do you take your coffee? Expresso, Americano, latte, cappuccino, macchiato, mocha, ristretto-” you paused to take a breath “-or iced coffee?”

A laugh bubbled out of him. He couldn’t help it, you were just too endearing. “Black,” he said, grinning. “I know I’m boring.”

“Oh, no! You’re not boring,” you rushed to say, then realized what he was doing. “Ugh, you’re messing with me, aren’t you?”

“A little.” His nose scrunched up as he said it.

You went to the kitchen to make his cup of coffee and Bucky began to browse the length of the buffet table. Scooping food onto his plate with only one hand proved more challenging than he expected, and he was glad that the lounge was mostly empty.

He could feel the lady in the grey suit’s eyes on him as he moved around. He set his plate on the bar, removed the glass lid, scooped up two hefty pancakes and stacked them on his plate. They looked pretty fluffy, it wouldn’t be hard to cut them with the edge of a fork. Then he replaced the lid and moved his plate closer to the maple syrup bottle.

He glanced at the woman who hastily looked away as if she hadn’t been staring at him the whole time. Annoyed, he kept looking at her while he poured maple syrup over his pancakes. He hated when people stared at him as if he were a freak. He narrowed his eyes menacingly and grinned to himself when she started fidgeting in her seat.

“You must really love maple syrup.”

Bucky paused at the sound of your voice, his features immediately softened. He looked down at his plate and realised he had drowned his pancakes in a gooey river of maple syrup. He must have spaced out during his staring contest with the business woman.

He had a strange look in his eyes, his expression a mix of confusion and anguish. Finally his eyes found yours and you smiled warmly at him, making him fight back a blink. You pried the bottle out of his rigid hand, and he let you take it.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice weak.

You weren’t sure what he was apologizing for but it wasn’t something you were going to analyse right now. “There’s a cup of coffee waiting for you. Best cup in Manhattan.”

He laughed, the crinkles were back. “You’re an angel.”

Bucky returned to his table and loaded his coffee with three teaspoons of sugar before he took a sip. He had always preferred sweet to savoury, and coffee was way too bitter for him.

There wasn’t much to do in the lounge. The television was behind him, the sound kept to a minimum. The lady in the grey suit left soon after and Bucky watched you clean her table.

You moved back and forth between the main room and the kitchen, going about your work and occasionally shooting him a smile. The food was good, not spectacular, but still better than his usual breakfast –two slices of toasted white bread with butter and a cup of coffee.

“Do you need anything else?” you asked, standing next to his table.

“Company?” he said with a hopeful look. “Please.”

You offered him a pained grimace when he gestured at the seat across from him. “I’m not allowed to sit. Sorry.”

It was hard to resist his puppy dog eyes but you needed to keep your job if you wanted to be able to afford your own place.

“Do you like working here?”

“It’s okay,” you shrugged. “I’m glad I have a job.”

“Sam mentioned you’re an artist.”

You shyly looked around you, you were the only two people in the room now. “I haven’t painted since I got this job,” you revealed. “I’m pretty sure my artist membership card has been cancelled.”

“Nope, those are for life.”

You laughed. “I hope so.”

You looked at each other before he asked, “Do you have any pictures of your work?”

You were genuinely surprised that someone wanted to see your work. Usually people offered a half-hearted ‘oh, that nice. I paint, too, occasionally” and changed the subject. You patted your pockets, searching for your phone, and groaned when you remembered that it was in your locker.

“I don’t have my phone with me but wait-” You took a napkin from the table and started writing. “This is my Instagram. I do a bit of everything, mostly landscapes and portraits.”

Bucky took the piece of paper and, before he could comment, a family of four walked into the lounge area. You apologized to him and walked over to the family, greeting them with a smile and asking them if they had a good night’s sleep.

The children looked like walking zombies until they spotted the cereal bar, and then chaos ensued. More people went down to breakfast and you didn’t have time to chat with him anymore.

He stayed a little longer, watching you help the kids pour cereal and milk into their bowls. A man who didn’t speak English very well asked you a question and you froze, trying to make him understand since you didn’t speak his language. Bucky smiled when you mimed the answer. The man laughed and gave you a thumb’s up.

There was something about you, something soft and caring, that made people at ease. Even when people started complaining that the platter of scrambled eggs was empty, you defused the situation so smoothly that they left with a smile on their face. It was the kind of person you were, kind-hearted and willing to help.

An angel.

When you looked in his direction again, Bucky was gone. You felt a pang of disappointment that he hadn’t said goodbye, but you had been so busy that even if he had been trying to get your attention, chances are you wouldn’t have noticed him.

Pouting exaggeratedly to yourself, you went to his table with your tray and a clean rag to collect the dirty dishes. You moved the unfolded napkin and what you saw underneath made you stop. You blinked, once, twice, three times, certain that you were hallucinating. You scooped up the bills and counted them.

$300

Your eyes were the size of saucers as you ran back to the lobby. You checked outside for Bucky but he was gone. You stood there, under the glass awning, with a bewildered look on your face, still clutching the bills.

Part 3

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #marvel #bucky barnes x reader #marvel imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel imagines #bucky barnes imagine #redgillan #redgillanwrites

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charofthestars · 3 years ago

Note

[ clean ]

[ clean ] your muse cleaning a smudge of something off mine’s cheek , forehead , etc

“ —keep telling them that the rations are going to be better for emergencies, or for after we make land. People are going to go off exploring and they’re going to need food they don’t have to cook. ”

Charlie points with his spoon, and the Captain nods seriously. He can’t quite tell if they’re patronizing him or not, but they aren’t stopping him, so he decides to proceed. It’s their own fault, really.

“ Nobody knows how long it will take to establish on the ground either. People aren’t going to come back up to the Invincible for food. ” He huffs. “ Yet people keep dipping into the ration boxes because it’s easier than coming all the way down here, or even waiting for me to come to them. But here I am fighting to make good food out of fucking— ” He shakes a packet currently sitting on his worktop. “ —pinto bean flakes. And I just feel like nobody appreciates how much freeze dried nonsense I have to deal with to make their oatmeal and their soup and their pasta and— ”

Charlie is cut off by Hare suddenly reaching a hand out and scrubbing their palm over his jaw. He reels back, startled, but the Captain hauls him closer and continues to rub at it despite his protests until they’re satisfied.

When they show him their glove, he can see the smear of green flakes left behind, removed from his face. He blinks at it, and then smiles somewhat sheepishly. “ That would be some of the spinach flakes from the omelettes I made for breakfast. ”

[ Make them eat flake sandwiches. ]

Charlie sputters out a laugh. It’s hardly a solution, but it does make him feel better to imagine those high-and-mighty pricks chowing down on powdered veggies on rye.

#i hear the universe calling my name (asks);#splittinghares #( charlie loves hare ok they’re so good )#( like in a friend way. he adores his captain )

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jessbakescakes · 4 years ago

Text

@twwobsessed asked for either 89. I noticed or 90. you can tell me anything from this post..

I accidentally deleted the ask, sorry!

This one spans across the series... it also got way longer than I anticipated. Oops?

“Want some chips?”

Donna looks to her left to find Josh holding out a bag of barbecue potato chips he insisted on getting from the store across the street before they loaded up the bus to South Carolina. “Thanks,” she says, taking a couple from the bag.

“Take as many as you want. It’ll probably be a little bit before we can stop to get something to eat, and we didn’t get a chance to eat lunch.” He places the bag between them, but doesn’t so much as reach for the chips again.

~*~

“Pizza’s here!” CJ announces, dropping several pizza boxes on the table in the center of the room.

Josh tosses his pen on his notepad. “What did you get? I’ll grab it for you.”

Donna looks up from her note cards. “Oh, no, I didn’t get anything.”

“What? Why?”

She thinks back to the intern who came around asking for everyone’s orders about an hour ago, and the excuse she gave him. The Massachusetts Democratic Party catered a lunch with a sandwich spread; she told the intern that she was still full from lunch, but Josh would see right through that. He sat right next to her while she ate half a turkey sub and a just-this-side-of-stale oatmeal raisin cookie before they were ready to head to their next meeting.

The truth, of course, is that she’s made a pretty big dent in her already modest savings account since rejoining the campaign. Her parents, in an attempt to impart some financial wisdom upon her during her teen years, had declared that half of each paycheck from whatever after school or summer job she held at the time was to be deposited into a savings account. She managed to make it all this time without having to dip into it; selling her car and sleeping on the floor had made it easier to stretch her limited budget. But it won’t last forever.

Before she can answer, CJ interrupts, calling out everyone’s orders. “Looks like we have some breadsticks on top, here, and some wings… here’s a cheese pizza for Kevin McCallister over there,” CJ says, motioning toward Josh as she opens the box, places it beside the stack, then closes the lid.

“Hey now, Donna and I are splitting this pizza, I wanted to make her feel at home,” Josh retorts, grabbing a plate and handing it to Donna before pulling two slices of pizza out of the box CJ just abandoned.

Donna turns to Josh. “I’m fine, Josh, really.”

“Donna,” he says, grabbing her hand and pulling her up from her seat.

“I don’t want to eat your food.” Josh gives her a pointed look, and she lets out a sigh. “How much do I owe you?”

Josh laughs. “What’s mine is yours, Donnatella.” He places his hand at the small of her back and ushers her toward the pizza box. “Eat.”

~*~

They manage to find a 24 hour diner in Little Rock two weeks before the convention. When their server approaches, everyone’s either staring blankly at their menus or engaged in subdued conversation. They were already tired, but they were pulling hours even longer than normal due to what should have been a minor PR snafu turned media beast that just wouldn’t die.

Josh had gotten Leo to agree to bring Donna on as a salaried member of the campaign once the Governor was no longer the presumptive nominee, but the official nominee; all Donna needed to do was make her last few dollars stretch as far as possible for just a little longer. Her stomach growls loudly as the server moves next to Josh.

“I’ll have the chicken and waffles,” Josh starts, handing the server his menu and sliding Donna’s toward him. “She’ll have an omelette with spinach and feta.”

By the time she opens her mouth to protest, the server’s gone and Josh is listening intently to whatever it is Sam is saying to his left.

~*~

“I’m just saying,” Josh starts, putting his half-eaten box of Chinese food on the table in the Mural Room, “if Thompson thinks Braun and Miller will pull out, we need to plan for that now.”

“You really think they’ll do that?” Toby asks.

Josh nudges the container toward Donna. “I do. At least, that’s what Braun was hinting at earlier. I don’t know what the hell that guy’s up to; he’s harder to read than any woman I’ve ever dated.”

Donna reaches for the food and peeks inside, noticing that it’s honey garlic chicken - her favorite.

~*~

“I think you’re not giving theoretical physics enough of a chance,” Josh insists. “I think you have some weird, unfair bias against it.”

Donna holds out her hand and takes the wrapper to Josh’s chicken sandwich. “Well, considering physics was the only class I ever came close to failing, I think my biases are perfectly fair.”

Josh laughs. “Donna Moss almost failed a class?”

“I stayed every day after school for a month and pulled it up to an A minus. But for a little while there I was in the mid-C range.”

“Painfully average,” Josh teases.

“Shut up and eat your salad,” Donna sighs.

“I’m full, you can have it.”

Donna rolls her eyes. “Josh, you ordered this salad. You said you wanted this salad, and I didn’t question you…”

“You’re about to go back to work, and I know you won’t have time to stop and grab something for another… seven, eight hours? Eat the damn salad.”

~*~

The Hawk and Dove is nearly empty; it’s just CJ, Sam, Donna, Charlie, and Josh in the late hours of the snowy evening.

“Toby was mentioning that earlier,” CJ says. “I don’t buy it.”

Donna pulls Josh’s untouched tray of cheese fries toward her and begins to eat, expecting a grumble or a whine from him. It never comes.

~*~

She’s not invited to this particular State Dinner. She could have gone home an hour ago, but she decided to take advantage of the rare opportunity to catch up on some filing while Josh wasn’t around.

Donna works through the last stack of files and returns to her desk to find two plates full of hors d'oeuvres.

~*~

Donna opens her eyes and stretches as much as the hospital bed will allow. Josh hears her stir and stands up from his chair. “Hey,” he says. “How are you feeling?”

“Been better,” she says, her voice a little hoarse.

“They brought you some breakfast. Looks like you’ve got some fruit and eggs. They’re probably a little cold by now, though. You hungry?”

“A little, yeah.”

Josh extends his hand and offers her a small package of mini muffins. “Don’t ask me how this works, but apparently there’s a vending machine down the hall that has some American snacks in it. I thought these would be chocolate chip, but… they’re blueberry.”

She takes the package and notices that the word blueberry is written in bold, blue font across the front, directly underneath the logo. He hasn’t eaten any of them.

~*~

“If anyone asks, the Congressman won’t be commenting on the situation with Senator Stephens,” Lou says. “Donna, do your best to make sure they don’t ask.”

Donna nods. She walks back to her seat to find a small bag of chocolate covered pretzels sitting in the chair. She looks across the room at Josh, staring at an electoral map, eating a bag of the same pretzels. He turns to grab a marker and makes eye contact with her from across the room.

Donna’s stomach nearly ties itself in knots when he gives her a small smile before returning to the board.

~*~

Josh takes his seat next to Donna, leaning in for a kiss. “Hi.”

“Hey,” she says, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Everything okay?”

He nods. “Yeah. I was just getting the ‘don’t you dare hurt her’ talk from the President.”

“Which one?” Donna asks, taking a sip of champagne.

“Either. Both. They both like you better than me, anyway, does it really matter?”

Donna laughs. “No, I guess it doesn’t.”

Josh looks down at his empty plate, then at Donna. “You ate my slice of cake?” He’s saying it in a tone of incredulity, but he’s grinning.

She shrugs. “You left it; I assumed you didn’t want it.”

“Donna,” Josh whines. “I was going to eat that.”

“There’s still plenty left,” Donna reassures him. “Don’t worry. You can get another slice.”

“Why, so you can eat that one, too?” Josh sighs. “At what point did you start stealing my food, anyway?”

Donna moves her arm to rest on Josh’s chair. “Probably around the time I noticed that even though I was on salary, you still continued to feed me. I don’t think I ever thanked you for that, by the way.”

Josh turns to face her. “Wait, you knew?”

“Of course I knew, Josh,” Donna says. “It was your way of taking care of me. It’s really thoughtful, actually. One of the many reasons I fell in love with you.”

She looks at him for a moment, studying the smirk on his face. She’s still in awe that she gets to call this man her husband - this incredibly caring, ridiculously sweet, wonderful man married her.

“I’m going to start putting my name on my leftovers,” Josh declares

“I’ll just eat them anyway,” Donna says, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“Yeah. You will.”

#josh x donna #my fics

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inwintersolitude · 3 years ago

Text

- April 11th 2022 -

Were you upset when you found out certain things weren't real? (santa, tooth fairy..) No. As far as I can remember, I came to the conclusion on my own that that stuff wasn't real, simply based off of it not making logical sense. And then when someone else told me that it wasn't real, I was like... "well duh, I already figured that out."

Name something you're proud of. brag a little bit. I got my pilots license when I was only 19.

Where would you like to go right now? Nowhere. It's a chilly/gloomy/stormy day, and I'm happy to be relaxing at home.

Which store would you like to win $1000 for? Pottery Barn. They have really nice furniture. There's an upholstered armchair there that I've been thinking of buying.

What do you usually eat for breakfast? A bagel with either plain or vegetable cream cheese, avocado toast, an omelette, oatmeal, or muesli topped with berries. Sometimes I'll have a hard boiled egg as well. I like to have a lot of variation in what I eat from day-to-day.

Do you pay any attention to celebrity drama? Nope.

Name a random fact. Bananas produce anti-matter! As they ripen, they emit one positron every ~75 minutes.

What's been an embarrassing phase you went through? I went through an "I'm not like the other girls" phase when I was 18/19 and in my first year of college/flight school where I thought that I was better/tougher than other women just because I was in a very male-dominated field. I never expressed this stuff outwardly towards anyone, but I'm sure that people could still pick up on that egotism and internalized misogyny. Yikes.

Would you ever move a far distance for a relationship? Not exactly applicable to me... I'm married, my husband and I live together and we move together. I've never been in a long-distance relationship, and never will be.

What's the ugliest animal in your opinion? That hairless cat breed. Sphynx cats, I think? They look like a cross between an uncooked chicken and a ballsack.

What about cutest? Budgies, guinea pigs, donkeys, hairy woodpeckers, capybaras.

Are you good at math? Yes, I've always had a natural talent for math.

What song describes your life currently? I can't think of one.

What popular food do you dislike? Hershey's chocolate. It has a chalky texture and a slight vomit-ish taste.

How long could you be famous before you got "canceled"? I don't know.

Is water wet? If you define “wet” as “having been made damp/saturated due to coming in contact with liquid or moisture,” then I suppose so, because technically water is in contact with itself... or something like that. Lol.

How old were you when you got your first cell phone? Around 14 or 15.

Are you in any pain currently? Nope.

What's the closest object to you that is red? A red Sharpie.

Do you have any cats? Nope.

Are you impulsive? Nope.

What 3 things do you think you'd need during a zombie apocalypse to survive? Hmmm... a water filtration system, a gun, and a gardening kit to grow your own food.

What's the last meal you've had? Dinner. I had chicken parmigiana.

Have you ever got in trouble with the law? I've gotten a speeding ticket before, but that's all.

What's a law you would create if possible? I've always had a HUGE problem with the current attractive nuisance laws as they pertain to homeowners, so I'd get rid of those. If you have a pool, fountain, trampoline, yardwork equipment, etc... anything that attracts a curious child onto your property, and then that child hurts/kills themselves on your property, that should NOT be the homeowner's fault. It should 100% be the fault of the child's parents for not doing the most basic level of parenting, which is supervising your child and making sure they don't wander onto other people's property and hurt/kill themselves. People who don't have children should not have to make their property child-friendly just because the neighbors are shitty parents who won't watch their kids.

Have you given any thought about what the Christian God looks like? I'm an atheist, I don't believe in that stuff. But I was raised Christian, and as a young kid I remember imagining what "God" might look like.

What's your most used emojis? 😂

What age would you choose to be forever if you had to choose? Roughly the same age as I am now. Early 30s.

How many slices of pizza can you eat in 1 sitting? I guess I technically could eat 3-4 slices, but I would never actually eat that much!

Do you prefer to fix things yourself or always call an expert? It depends. I enjoy fixing things, so there are some things that I do myself, but I also know my limits on what I can handle so I have no problem calling a professional for bigger repairs. And of course there are times where I could fix something, but it's just easier and more convenient to hire someone to do it.

#survey #surveys #random questions #personal blog

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lovelyirony · 5 years ago

Note

“Did you just hit me? With a pillow? Oh. It’s on now.” for Sam and Bucky aka the weiner club

Sam has seen some questions floating around on the internet about the worst thing that came out of World War II. He has a lot of answers.

But he thinks he has the final answer as to the worst thing that came out of World War II:

James Buchanan Barnes.

What a dumbass.

For one thing, absolutely wrecked his credit score when he ripped his steering wheel right out of his car. It was a new car too, just gotten and Sam had gotten a fancy car-freshener, not one of the trees that was labeled Black Ice. You know, the scent that every guy-in-his-twenties had. No, he was getting fancy in life. Upgrading, as it were.

And then this absolute goddamn travesty of a human being with a metal arm that was more indestructible than that one spoon that keeps getting stuck in the garbage disposal and somehow makes it out.

Steve brings him back. And now Bucky--which is a very stupid name--is currently stealing all of Sam’s fancy oatmeal and he knows he’s doing it.

Bucky is having a lot of fun at Sam’s expense, and Sam can’t say shit about it because Bucky goes “oh boo I’m a traumatized war veteran who had to go to Russia for like fifty years. Let me eat your oatmeal you stupid bitch” and Sam has to let him.

So Sam decides that he will just refuse to ever interact with Bucky on any level except Enemy.

Sharon tells him he’s being a tad dramatic.

“That oatmeal cost me seven dollars every week and he fucking eats it.”

“Not all of it,” Sharon says. “He’s not bad, he’s just messing with you. Steve is still treating him like he’s one of those glass figurines that Bruce collects.”

“Bruce collects glass figurines? What?”

“Yeah. I think he finds them in thrift shops and just collects them. I can’t decide if it’s an intimidation tactic for the Hulk or for Tony.”

“Tony is scared of glass figurines?”

“He’s scared of breaking stuff. Don’t ask, it involves Pepper.”

“Oh. I think it’s weird that you know him on such a personal level.”

“Why?”

“I was literally just telling you the last time I went grocery shopping and you told me, and I quote, ‘stop telling me all this personal shit I have limited memory storage in my brain’.”

“It’s because I do. I don’t give a shit about your grocery purchases unless any of it is for me.”

“Very self-centered.”

“Quite. But give Bucky a little leeway.”

“Absolutely not.”

Bucky absolutely knows what he is doing. He really and truly does. He’s been texting Maria Hill about the whole thing, who finds it absolutely hilarious.

In fact, everyone knows what he’s doing. Except for Steve, which makes it even funnier.

Steve is under the impression that Bucky has no idea that that was Sam’s oatmeal, or Sam’s favorite coffee cup.

He most definitely knows it. But Sam has funny reactions, and in all honesty, a lot of it isn’t that big a deal.

And then Sam wacks him with a pillow.

“You hit me. With a pillow.” Sam wacks him again.

“Oh, it’s on now.”

The Pillow Wars commence.

There are three rules:

1.) No headshots. Those are mean and stupid and bad.

2.) You cannot use any of the pillows that Tony or Pepper bought. Both are incredibly enamored with their own interior design and decoration choices, and will not be messed with. It took Bucky only once to learn this. He was threatened to be launched out by an arm, and it wasn’t gonna be his left.

3.) Steve and Bruce cannot know

This is mainly for humor purpose. Steve--maybe--would be fine with it. Bruce knows too much about how brains work and how maybe Bucky gets hit with a pillow and Something Bad happens.

So begins the Secret War.

Sam ditches an official interview to sneak on a plane and absolutely wreck Bucky with pillows.

Bucky stealth attacks from ceilings.

The most entertaining is when other people are in the room and the AI Friday informs of “Dr. Banner’s” or “Captain Rogers’s” imminent arrival.

“Hey Steve-o,” Bucky says, just casually draping his arm over Sam’s shoulders. (And potentially maybe holding him quite tightly so as to not have him escape. He’s made the mistake before.) “What’s going on in the world with you?”

“Nat and I are going to practice parkour,” Steve says. “You guys have gotten...closer?”

“Yeah,” Sam says, grinning. “Best buds, us two. Peas in a pod.”

“Or more,” Steve teases. “I’m right, right? The hugs, the way that Sam was on top of you earlier, Buck...my two friends dating?”

They freeze.

They can’t tell him no, because then Steve is going to know that they’ve been fighting.

“Yes,” Bucky answers. “Sam asked me out a couple weeks ago. We’ve been trying to take it slow, but you know how modern men are. Too quick for their own damn good.”

Sam wants to fucking murder him.

Because this? Exactly what he wanted to avoid.

“I hate you.”

“Love you too. Baby.”

“Oh, ‘baby’? That’s the one you’re going with? Listen you fucking asshole--”

“Nope! Sorry!”

This leads to dating. And even more lying.

Because Sam has to keep it up and pretend like he’s been sharing his oatmeal. They have to go out on actual dates because Steve “checks in” on his runs that he takes (he takes multiple because he’s insane) and they have to be in love.

It is disgusting.

Bucky has had to use hard-earned money to get Sam stupid shit like flowers and “just thinking of you” gifts and a birthday present. He had to spend money on a nice shirt and a cute plant that Sam will like.

This is what changes things, by the way.

Bucky was not supposed to be thinking about how Sam has been wanting a peppermint plant for a while, but he won’t fucking shut up about it and he won’t stop telling Bucky about all the cute pots that he wants to put it in and Bucky was not supposed to go to the nursery and go get it.

But he did. Because Sam wouldn’t shut up and Bucky wasn’t gonna be a basic bitchy boyfriend and get him flowers and a dinner. That is for losers. Which Bucky most certainly is not.

Sam is surprised that Bucky is listening.

And then they realize that it’s not exactly that they’re mad that they’re dating. In fact, Sam kind of likes having a special someone to go to breakfast with, even if Bucky kind of hates the diner he keeps choosing.

(To be fair their muffins are dry but also to be fair Bucky will simply not order an omelette, which is their best option.)

Maybe Bucky likes remembering fun little facts about Sam, like how he hates red petunias because his old neighbor always had them everywhere, or how he secretly thought that Captain America was literally just a media project meant to consider how well propaganda worked on the American people.

(If Bucky hadn’t remembered that Steve was literally just That Stupid, he probably would’ve agreed with that theory.)

So now they have Stupid Feelings. This Sucks.

Also? Sharon is laughing at Sam, because she’s a terrible gay best friend.

“You’re gay too, so that makes us just friends. Cancels all that shit out. But it doesn’t change the fact that you’re stupid and didn’t recognize that you liked him. It literally took Steve assuming you were a couple to get this whole thing rolling.”

“Wait, so you knew? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Sam I’m sorry you have to hear it from me, but I had a hell of a lot more faith in you than I should have. Is that a sin? That should be a sin.”

“I will literally write you out of my will just watch me.”

“Who else is going to take your ugly paintings, Sam? Who? Steve? He went to art school for a year. He knows quality.”

“I hate you.”

“Yeah, just like you hate Bucky,” Sharon says, laughing. “Have fun with that, by the way. Hope you confess your feelings soon!”

Sam is not having fun with this. No, not at all.

It’s mostly because Bucky is still stealing his oatmeal and they’re in Public and he can’t confess his feelings. It’s just not convenient. Also Bucky is having a lot of conversation with a certain guy that Tony knows in one way or another, and they’ve hit it off.

Steve is looking at Bucky.

“Huh, he seems to like that guy a lot, they’ve been talking for a while. You know him, Sam?”

“No,” Sam says. “But I’m sure everything is fine.”

(Well everything is probably fine on Bucky’s end. Sam is trying Very Hard to not be jealous at all. People talk all the time. He’s talking to Steve right now. It doesn’t mean he’s going to do anything to Steve.)

(It’s not working, if you wanted clarification. The whole “I’m not actually jealous” thought.)

He hits Bucky with another pillow.

“What the hell?” Bucky mutters, flicking on the light.

“Come to bed, asshole.”

“I hate you,” Bucky grumbles, shrugging off his tuxedo jacket. “Let me get into my pajamas first before you start a pillow war.”

“Surprised you came home at all. Thought you and that guy were getting awfully cozy.”

“Ain’t my type,” Bucky answers, “and his wife wasn’t my type either.”

“Then who is?”

Bucky looks at him.

“You seriously wanna know?”

“If you’ll answer, yeah.”

“Sam, my type is someone who is an absolute asshole who I hate a lot.”

Sam blinks.

“You wanna know what my type is, Barnes?”

“Who?”

“Someone who keeps stealing my fucking oatmeal.”

Bucky stops and pauses. Then starts shaking with laughter.

“We really are the worst, aren’t we?”

“In a sense, yeah. We have an early breakfast tomorrow with Maria and Pepper, by the way. So come to bed.”

“Yes, dear.”

Doesn’t matter if it’s said sarcastically. Sam still likes it.

There’s a part to this story you should know:

Steve’s absolutely not stupid about this certain situation. He knew Bucky was a little shit who kept stealing oatmeal. He also knew that Sam liked him, even if he didn’t recognize it himself.

By him insinuating that he thought they were dating, he knew they would never crush his dreams. He’s secretly a manipulative genius like that.

(It also helps that Maria owes him about a thousand dollars or five favors, give or take a couple.)

#surprise surprise sam and bucky are too busy acting like assholes to realize they like each other #steve rogers #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sharon carter #maria hill #lovelyirony writes #anyways sam is cool

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badhockeymom · 5 years ago

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Assorted highlights of the Sebastian Aho story

First of all: I'm not in the mood of spending a huge amount of time on stealing from freelancers so I won't copy more pics than I already have or translate the full story. It's a big feature: 11 pages in total, 4 full text pages.

The story is based on interview/s made on the last week of April. The pics are from two photo shoots (it's told in the story), most in the gym of the Raksila arena in Oulu and in an outside location (Pikisaari). They all share this distant melancholic aesthetic and costume, Sepe in his red track suit and shoes, mostly looking away from the camera.

He has picked up cooking but claims it's nothing fancy, following simple recipes: " fish, chicken, and a sauce."

"I'm no masterchef, I can't cook any gourmet meals. If you can eat and finish it, it's a good starting point."

"I was more into gaming a couple of years ago but these days I'll lose interest in an hour or so and start doing something else. I can't keep focused for as long as i used to."

He has the same breakfast every morning: two slices of rye bread, two boiled eggs and coffee. "Coffee is a must. In America it's usually oatmeal and an omelette."

He'd slip out of schedule in quarantine if he didn't get up in time to get the day going.

"Morning is the key. When you get on the bike after breakfast and start your workout, it sets the day going. After that, lunch and a nap or PlayStation. Then it's afternoon, you can start thinking what to make for dinner, maybe put on a movie or a TV series. If I just linger late in bed and don't start doing much of anything in the morning, the whole day just passes and I don't get anything done."

Sebastian followed the self quarantine instructions dutifully when he got back to Finland in a shared private charter flight with a few Finnish and Swedish players. He remembers the two weeks as painfully boring.

After that staying home has got easier. He doesn't feel like a caged lion, like the reporter would expect.

"There hasn't been anything too special."

"This must sound pretty boring."

"No action here. Basic life."

"I don't think too many other people have anything special going on either in this situation."

Quarantine time has passed surprisingly easily for Aho whose off-seasons in Oulu tend to be something completely different. He has never been a homebody, quite the opposite.

"I train in the morning and go out to lunch with my training buddies. I golf, we have dinners at my parents. I see a lot of people. I'm pretty social, I always like to be out and about with somebody. Of course it makes the isolation difficult. "

Aho says he's as much in the dark as anybody about the plans to continue the season.

"I hear the same scenarios, sometimes a day or two earlier than they're in the media, tops."

Aho is aware that he won't suffer financially as hard from the season cut short as players with higher yearly salaries but says he doesn't really think about it.

The week of the interview starts with Aho taking his car to the shop for maintenance and a game of tennis with Jesse Puljujärvi after getting up at 7 am. The last contact is on Thursday, May Day eve, about a game of Fortnite while waiting for an online concert of JVG that Sebastian plans to watch. (He has planned to watch Tiger King ever since the beginning of the quarantine because everybody talks about it but hasn't started.)

"Ei ollut kehuskeltavaa fortti sijoituksissa :D", "Nothing to brag about in the Fortnite results :D" he texts the reporter.

#sebastian aho #canes #image #media #my post

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ill-stop-after-i-promise · 4 years ago

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-43

i need to find a fucking hobby or at least a reason to go outside because restriction is actual hell and I need distraction from food.

oatmeal for breakfast (180 cal)

corn, cottage cheese and some other shit for lunch (170 cal)

omelette for dinner (400 cal)

I really just want to fast. This is so hard and I feel like shit about myself, about the fact that I'm eating and about how everyone is worrying about me and I don't feel sick enough to be worth it.

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ohsh1t2wksl8 · 5 years ago

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Food Survey (#1)

Breakfast It’s the most important meal of the day! Do you even eat breakfast? I do eat breakfast every day. But if I eat it too early, my stomach gets upset and angry with me. What time do you typically eat breakfast? Lately, it’s been sometime around 8:00 AM, but once I head back to work, it’s going to switch back to 6:00 AM-ish, so my stomach is not going to be very happy with me. Would you say that breakfast is typically your largest meal of the day or your smallest meal of the day? Usually it’s my smallest meal of the day, unless I’m going out over the weekend to some big breakfast or brunch place. Do you like going out for a sit-down breakfast? I don’t typically go out to eat for breakfast, but Denny’s is probably the most well-known breakfast place around here - either that, or IHOP. Do you visit a coffee shop (ie: Tim Hortons, Starbucks, Dunkin’ Donuts) and place an order every morning? If so, what do you typically get? No, I’m too poor for that. I typically just eat or drink whatever it is that I have at home. How many different ways will you eat your eggs? I’ll eat them scrambled, hard-boiled, deviled, or over-medium. But I do need to take a Tums first, otherwise my stomach will get all messed up. How do you prefer your bacon to be cooked? I don’t want to still eat it raw, but I don’t want the extra-crispy version either. Have you ever had Canadian bacon before? Which do you like better? I prefer “American” regular bacon. Lol. Do you prefer sausage links or sausage patties? I’ll eat either. I’m not that picky. What do you prefer your sausage to be made out of? (chicken, pork, etc) Or do you not like sausage at all? I typically can’t tell the difference. Or maybe I can, but none of the ones that I’ve tried have tasted gross to me. Would you rather have a breakfast bowl, a breakfast sandwich, or a breakfast burrito, and why? These are all delicious options, I think it just depends on what I’m in the mood for. The two things I won’t eat are Breakfast Toaster Scramblers or Breakfast Hot Pockets, though. Blech. Do you prefer French toast, pancakes, or waffles, and why? Again, I’ll eat any of these three options, it really just all depends upon what I’m in the mood for at the time. Do you ever eat bagels for breakfast? If so, what type do you typically like, and what do you put on it? I’m boring and I only like butter on my bagels - I’m not a fan of cream cheese spreads. I either have plain or onion bagels. Do you ever make banana bread? With or without walnuts? How about pumpkin bread? With or without chocolate chips? I like making either of those, and I always throw in some chocolate chips. I don’t really like nuts in any of my foods, really. Do you prefer cereal bars or granola bars? Which flavors? I used to eat cereal bars all the time as a kid, but now I’m definitely all about the granola bars instead. I prefer them with peanut butter or chocolate chips. Do you ever eat cereal for breakfast? Or do you ever munch on it as a snack instead? What’s your favorite kind? I prefer French Toast Crunch or Waffle Crisp, but the latter doesn’t exist anymore, sadly. Do you put milk in your cereal, or do you eat it dry? If it’s a cereal like Cheerios or something, I’ll just eat it dry, since I have to take a Tums if I’m putting straight milk into my system without it being baked into something. Have you ever had biscuits and gravy? How about chicken and waffles? No, I’ve never tried either of those before, to be honest. Do you ever have steak or chicken fried steak with your eggs? No, I’ve had chicken-fried steak with mashed potatoes and broccoli before, and I’ve had steak with roasted potatoes, but neither of those meats with breakfast before. Do you ever eat cinnamon buns for breakfast? Yes, I’ve had some with regular icing, and I’ve had some with pumpkin spice icing before. Do you enjoy eating coffee cake for breakfast? It’s not one of my go-to breakfasts, but I have had it for this meal before. Do you like doughnuts? What is your favorite kind to eat? I like a lot of the cream-filled ones, for sure. Or those that are glazed. I hate the red jelly in my doughnuts, though. Blech. Have you ever had a crepe before? I do like crepes with strawberries, chocolate syrup and whipped cream. Yum. Would you rather have a croissant or a scone, and why? I think I’d rather have a flaky croissant. It would make a bigger mess, but scones have always seemed hard to me, and I’m not about that life. Do you have a preferred flavor of muffin to eat? I enjoy chocolate chip, blueberry, peach, and pumpkin muffins. Also double-chocolate muffins as well. When’s the last time that you had a toaster strudel? Which kind would you prefer? It’s been quite some time now. I do enjoy strawberry or raspberry ones. When’s the last time you had a Pop-Tart? Do you have any particular favorite flavors? It’s been a long time since I’ve had one of these as well. There are a few flavors that I can handle, such as S’mores, Hot Fudge Sundae, Wild Berry, and Cookie Dough, to name a few. Has anyone ever made Eggs Benedict for you before? Did you enjoy it? No, but it doesn’t look that appealing to me, so that’s okay. Have you ever been served breakfast in bed? What was the special occasion? No, but I used to do it as a kid for my mother for Mother’s Day. That much, I remember. When’s the last time you had an English muffin? Would you rather have this or a bagel instead? It’s probably been about a month. The only thing that I put on it for breakfast is butter. Otherwise I’ve done pizza bagels as well as pizza English muffins before. Do you ever have fruit salads for breakfast? What do you prefer to put in them? I’ve made them before - one I usually do is strawberries, green grapes, and mango chunks. The other one is raspberries, strawberries, and blueberries. Would you rather have hash browns or home fries, and why? Probably home fries or a hash brown patty, because it’s hard to get all those little pieces onto your fork in a civilized manner. Lol. What would you put into your omelette? I wouldn’t put anything in there. I think it’s a texture thing. I feel like I’m chewing on a sponge. Have you ever had a quiche for breakfast before? Yes, I love quiches! How do you like your toast, and what do you put on it? I like it lightly toasted, with butter and jelly or jam. Do you like to eat oatmeal? Do you prefer it to be warm or cold? What flavors do you enjoy? I don’t like to eat oatmeal at all. The smell itself is so off-putting that I’ve never actually tried to consume it before. Have you ever had a popover before? Do you like them? I’ve never had a popover before, so I can’t give an accurate answer about this. Do you know anyone who puts peanut butter on their toast? How about avocado? I’ve put peanut butter on my toast before, but I’ve never tried avocado on there before. It just doesn’t look appetizing to me. Do you have a favorite-flavored danish that you like to eat? No, I’m not a fan of those types of pastries, really. Do you ever eat yogurt for breakfast? Do you prefer it plain, or flavored? Yes or no to the fruit chunks? How about granola or chocolate flakes/candies in there? I can do flavored yogurts, with our without fruit chunks. I don’t like plain/vanilla yogurt. I don’t like granola in my yogurt, but I have had M&M’s or chocolate flakes in certain flavors before. Do you ever eat anything for breakfast that isn’t typically classified as a “breakfast food”? No, I always eat something breakfast-related for breakfast. What do you typically drink with your breakfast in the morning? (coffee, tea, juice, milk) I typically drink some mixed fruit juices that have been created by the Dole brand. Sometimes during the wintertime, I’ll have some hot chocolate. Very rarely will I have a specialized iced coffee drink, usually on a seasonal basis. I only drink hot tea when I’m feeling sick. [a-zebra-is-a-striped-horse]

#survey

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