c rations

‘Boy, you sure get offered some shitty choices,’ a Marine once said to me, and I couldn’t help but feel that what he really meant was that you didn’t get offered any at all. Specifically, he was just talking about a couple of C-ration cans, 'dinner,’ but considering his young life you couldn’t blame him for thinking that if he knew one thing for sure, it was that there was no one anywhere who cared less about what he wanted. There wasn’t anybody he wanted to thank for his food, but he was grateful that he was still alive to eat it, that the mother-fucker hadn’t scared him up first. He hadn’t been anything but tired and scared for six months and he’d lost a lot, mostly people, and seen far too much, but he was breathing in and breathing out, some kind of choice all by itself.
—  Michael Herr in his book Dispatches

anonymous asked:

Donation fic request: foodie verse, steve/tony and Chicago deep dish pizza. Or whatever you feel like writing, its all good fun.

So I missed the “Stony” the first time around, and thus it is not the focus of the fic, but the Chicago Style Pizza part is very in evidence! :D

“Okay, but…what is it?” Steve asked, studying the object on the table curiously. The waiter, with a warning look, slid a pie server underneath a slice and lifted it out. Cheese dangled everywhere.

“It’s Chicago-style pizza,” Tony said, holding up his plate to be served. 

“That’s not pizza,” Steve replied.

Chicago style,” Tony emphasized. 

“That’s not pizza,” Steve repeated. 

“You’re adorable,” Tony told him, and Clint made a gagging noise.

“I lived next door to Italians. I served in Italy. I know American pizza doesn’t look like Italian pizza but this doesn’t look like any pizza I have ever seen anywh – why is it like that,” he asked, as another slice was lifted and basically drizzled onto his plate. 

“Because it is delicious,” Natasha said, stealing a forkful of cheese from Tony’s pizza. He made to stab her with his fork, then thought better of it. 

Steve picked up a fork and carefully separated the crust from the back of the slice. The cheese, incongruously given its earlier runniness, stayed stiff. 

“If you’re chicken, I’ll eat your slice,” Bruce offered. Steve turned his glare on him. 

“I’m not chicken, I ate c-rations,” Steve said. “I ate sausages made before the FDA existed. Are we sure the FDA has cleared this?” 

Thor had already eaten his entire slice. He’d apparently twirled it around his fork and unhinged his jaw somehow. He was eyeballing Steve’s with intent.

“Look, we came all the way to Chicago to punch bad guys,” Clint said. “We might as well enjoy the local delicacies.”

“It’s okay,” Tony said. “I thought this might happen. I got you something else, Steve.” 

The waiter, who had briefly vanished, returned with a pile of palm-sized, golden half-circles, gleaming with melted butter. 

“Potato-cheese pierogies,” he announced, and deposited them at Steve’s elbow. Steve looked at the golden-brown pierogie crust, broke off a corner, and tasted it. Then, without speaking, he dumped half the platter of them onto his plate.

“Are you going to eat that?” Thor asked, pointing to his slice. Tony was battling off Natasha’s forays into his pizza. 

“No, go for it,” Steve said, mouth already full of pierogie. “Now THIS is a delicacy,” he added to Clint, as Thor transferred the slice to his plate. 

Fun Fact 153

During the Vietnam War, some US soldiers would eat small amounts of C-4 explosives to get high. Eating a larger amount would also induce illness and was a way for soldiers to get sick leave. It was also sometimes used as fuel for heating rations because C-4 burns rather than explodes without a primary explosive.

gee-studysugar  asked:

Cherry how do we attract a person in life ...Is it by our rising, Venus sign or the moon sign?

hey lovely… not in terms of romance but in general we tend to attract people whose sun or ascendant conjuncts our descendant because this is our polarity, the illumination of our shadow, the people who were written into the lesson plan to mirror yourself… libra is the ruler of the 7th house and identifies through the handheld mirror glyph, finding yourself through others. jung really focuses on this stuff.  its interesting cause his chart ruler is Uranus in the 7th house. It will be the sign opposing the ascendant so you are looking for the bridge that brings the polar worlds together. so if you have sagittarius rising you will have gemini on the descendant and so on. I don’t know if it exactly spells compatibility in the idyllic romantic sense but they present a well of qualities and traits you need and should be integrated.

asc aries - dsc libra: i need someone who settles me
asc taurus - dsc scorpio: i need complexity, intensity, depth
asc gemini - dsc sagittarius: i need deep meaningful conversation
asc cancer - dsc capricorn: i need a father figure
asc leo - dsc aquarius: i need change and stimulation
asc virgo - dsc pisces: i need a healer
asc libra - dsc aries: i need a challenge
asc scorpio - dsc taurus: i need security
asc sagittarius - dsc gemini: i need lightness and freedom
asc capricorn - dsc cancer: i need a mother figure
asc aquarius - dsc leo: i need someone to be proud of
asc pisces - dsc virgo: i need some rationality 

-C.

4

Meal, Combat, Individual

Photo #1:

  • One Spaghetti W/ Ground Meat 
  • One pecan nut roll 
  • One peanut butter 
  • One B-2 unit(crackers and chocolate bar) 
  • One plastic spoon 
  • One accessory packet in aluminum foil 

Photo #2:

  • One Beans, W/Frankfurters Chunks In Tomato Sauce 
  • One peanut butter 
  • One date pudding 
  • One B-2 unit(crackers and chocolate bar) 
  • One plastic spoon 
  • One accessory packet in aluminum foil

Photos #3 & 4:

  • One cigarette box (Marlboro OR Salem) 
  • Matches 
  • Chewing gum 
  • Toilet paper 
  • Instant coffee 
  • Coffee creamer 
  • Sugar 
  • Salt
TBH ENTP #16

I was just making a post about dating and about how peoplee think I like them more than I do, and I just realized that I’m a douchebag.

Point of curiosity: Did anyone else take Agent Camp’s statement from his lil speech to Sam and Dean in prison, about how they’ll “get so crazy to talk, to see someone real, you’ll tell me exactly what I need. You’ll tell me with a smile.”

Was anyone else’s first thought of Frank in 7.11, telling Dean (while Dean was experiencing the absolute most horrifying and abandoning series of losses in his entire life… I mean s7 was nothing if not about losing EVERYTHING, and this just one episode after losing Bobby)

Dean: I’m not gonna quit. It’s not even an option. I’m not gonna walk out on my brother.
Frank: Okay then, fine. Do what I did.
Dean: What - go native? Stock up on C-rations?
Frank: No, cupcake. What I did when I was 26 and came home to find my wife and two kids gutted on the floor. Decide to be fine til the end of the week. Make yourself smile because you’re alive and that’s your job. And do it again the next week.
Dean: So fake it?
Frank: I call it being professional. Do it right, with a smile, or don’t do it.

followed by probably the most awful screencap of s7, which was Dean pasting on that smile? With the look in his eyes that screams I AM DEAD INSIDE WTF?!

Yeah.

Water and Fire

The Human Condition (a series in vignettes), Pt. I

Pairing: Human!CastielXReader

Warnings: Plenty of fluff – some suggestive situations – absolutely nothing explicit here.

A/N: Set after Dean kicks newly human Cas out of the bunker and the reader offers him a place to stay. Basically this is a series, published in parts, of shorts involving daily domestic life with the former angel. Requests are open if you have a certain situation in mind!

Previous Vignettes: Prologue, Homecoming, Cereal and a Shave, Nightmares and Birthdays, The Rulebook, Confession(s)

Water and Fire

“The weather forecast calls for biblical floods,” Cas stated, face lined with worry, “I do not believe we are prepared.”

“Cas, we’re good,” you gestured to the kitchen table. “Batteries, flashlights, candles, matches, firewood, water, and C rations if it comes down to it,” you hoisted the final grocery bag onto the counter and began unpacking, “We’re better prepared than most of the town.”

“You forget, I’ve witnessed biblical flooding,” he wrung his hands, voice gravel, “Noah’s neighbors thought they were prepared too.”

You stifled a giggle, turning towards him, frowning in mock seriousness, “So you’re saying you’d feel better if we had an arc?”

He pressed his lips, subtlety squinting his eyes, “Are you saying you wouldn’t?”

Keep reading

Part Three: It’s My [Pity] Party. (Ghostfacers! S03E13)

Useful Links: Last Part | All Episodes
Word Count: 3,676.
Warning: Swearing.
A/N: One more part before this episode is done! I promise the last part will be out fairly soon enough. Now enough with me talking, hope you guys enjoy!

Keep reading

7.11: Dean goes Beautiful Mind over the numbers Bobby gave him on his death bed.

Bobby’s phone rings, and it’s a girl calling for his help, while Dean’s desperate to hear back from Frank about the numbers. Dean argues with Sam that they should focus on what Bobby spent his dying breath trying to tell them, but Sam argues that they should help the girl who’d reached out to Bobby and help her (because that’s what Bobby would’ve done). So they split up.

I love this, because Bobby wouldn’t have been able to cover both of these problems as just one person, but Sam and Dean can, because they are TWO people– just like the vetalas in this episode. They’re so successful as monsters because most hunters expect them to be ONE monster, when they actually work in PAIRS. Right down to the end scene where Sam and Lee are tied up in a situation where the vetalas would’ve killed Lee with one more bite, but Sam goaded them into biting him first. TWO IS BETTER THAN ONE. Even when Dean barged in to save them and tried to leave Krissy behind where it was safe, she escaped and came to join the fight anyway– again proving that two is better than one.

And heck, if three ain’t better than two… after 12.19 it’s all Go Team Free Will.

(Dean shows up at Frank’s, Frank wants Dean to prove he’s not a Leviathan so Dean cuts his arm and then hands the knife to Frank, because fair’s fair, douchebag. So basically Dean and Frank become blood brothers. I don’t make the rules)

DEAN: I’m glad we could share that together.

(see? Even Dean thinks so)

DEAN: Wait – Dick’s got people watching you?
FRANK: Do I look like I know? You think it’s easy to see this deep into what’s real and also be bipolar with delusional ideation? There is no pill for my situation, sweetiepop, so, yeah, best guess – the bigmouths are onto me. Next question.

(there’s a reason I really like Frank)

Dean finally gets some sleep at Frank’s Paranoia Caravan (I guess he feels safe enough, trusting in Frank’s security measures to finally nod off for a bit), but misses Sam’s call about the monster Krissy’s dad was hunting and asking him for help.

SAM (on phone): Dean, hey. So I think this guy was hunting a Vetala. Um, Dad took one down back in the day. Silver knife to the heart, twist, they’re done. He says they’re maladjusted loner types – like to knock a guy out, drag him home, feed slow. So, if Krissy’s dad got grabbed, there’s a chance he might still be alive. Be nice to get this girl’s dad back home to her, you know? All right, I could use your help. Call me.

(see my note at the top about working better in pairs, rather than “maladjusted loner types.”)

Meanwhile Dean sleeps 36 hours, and wakes up to Frank pointing out the Cas-coded (tan trench, buttoned up, dark hair) leviathan in a field:

Dean finally gets Sam’s message and knows Sam is working from bad information, because apparently John never updated his journal with the new info Dean had learned about vetalas hunting in pairs.

FRANK: Okay, then, fine. Do what I did.
DEAN: What? Go native? Stock up on C-rations?
FRANK: No, cupcake. What I did when I was 26 and came home to find my wife and two kids gutted on the floor. Decide to be fine till the end of the week. Make yourself smile because you’re alive and that’s your job. Then do it again the next week.
DEAN: So fake it?
FRANK: I call it being professional. Do it right, with a smile, or don’t do it.

Dean tries to keep Krissy out of it, because Sam had mentioned she didn’t seem to know what her dad really did for a living… but she absolutely KNEW everything about hunting…

DEAN: Vetalas usually hunt in pairs. Sam and your dad both assumed it was one thing hunting solo.
KRISSY: Why’d they think that?
DEAN: Because they had the wrong info. Or, best available. Our dad took down a loner years ago. Sam has his journal. Your dad must’ve been going on the same facts.
KRISSY: And you know different ‘cause…?
DEAN: Because I hunted one that turned out to be two a couple years back.
KRISSY: And you never told Sam? Wow, thanks. How 'bout sharing that with the rest of the class so we don’t all get killed?

And there it is. Dean had critical yet otherwise apparently unknown info, and he never bothered to even write it down, let alone “sharing it with the class.” Hunters coming together, pooling their info and resources, like the next level version of the Bobby and Rufus Hunter Switchboard Service. I think this is very much a part of where the MoL storyline is leading Sam and Dean (and all the other hunters that are being targeted by the MoL now). They might come together out of a need for survival, to share info and pool their resources, but maybe that will survive the end of the MoL and inspire them all to launch something better to help hunters be better at what they do…

So Lee and Krissy get to retire for a while until a twisted hunter drags Krissy back in, but meanwhile Sam and Dean get to drive away thinking they actually earned a win here. Even so, Dean pastes on the absolute WORST smile I have ever seen on him as they’re leaving, listening to “Dear Mr. Fantasy” while wearing Frank’s “professional” face, and it just makes me want to scream. It makes the usual performing dean seem like a bloody relief in comparison. This is Dean so crushed by reality he can’t even be bothered with the performance anymore.