food is priority


Hey, I was a bored kid, and Dean actually played along.

…. For the first twenty pies, anyway.


Originally posted by piscesandpercy

Summary: Civil War told from the perspective of the Reader, Bucky’s girlfriend.

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Nothing?

A/N: This has probably been done so many times but ehh… it turned out good. Big thanks to @sergeantjamesbarnes107th for looking over this and editing for me!

Word Count: 1552

Getting an early start to the day, Bucky and I decided to take a much needed trip down to the market. We didn’t have very much money, or own very much for that matter. Our apartment was barely big enough to sustain the two of us, and our mattress took up most of the room on the floor, but we always made sure to keep food a top priority.

Keeping a leisurely pace, Bucky pulled me towards a stall along the path, his eyes looking over the fruit on display as he grabbed it with his free arm, the other wrapped securely around my waist. I looked around as he began talking to the woman behind the stall - the words slipping from his lips with ease; he had picked up on the language easily, no doubt having already spoke it before. While glancing around the other side of the street, I noticed a clearly distressed man staring in Bucky’s direction.

I glanced up at Bucky before glancing back over to the man. The man looked frightened and I wanted to know why. Slipping from Bucky’s grasp, I went over to the stall and picked up a newspaper. The man looked down at his own and then cast a look behind me, causing him to quickly run out of the stall and run down the street.

What I saw made me pale in fear. Without talking, Bucky came up behind me and placed a hand on my shoulder, then picked up the newspaper seeing his own face printed on the cover. He looked over at me briefly before his eyes flitted to the crowd, taking everything in.

I could practically see the gears turning in his head as he grabbed my hand and started to pull me in the direction of our little apartment.

As soon as we were inside and heading up the stairs of the apartment building, he started to walk in front of me; his body froze momentarily as he reached the door. The thought of some sort of threat being behind it sent shivers down my spine.

He unlocked the door slowly before taking my hand and walking inside, keeping himself slightly in front of me.

We stood, locking eyes with the infamous Steve Rogers who was holding onto Bucky’s journal.

Bucky stretched his arm protectively in front of you as he stepped forward, barely giving away any of his unease.

Steve directed his question at Bucky, but his eyes were fixed momentarily on you, “You know me?”

“You’re Steve.” Bucky replied, “I read about you in a museum.”

Steve timidly stepped forward, as if not wanting to disturb anything in our house. Or at least, anything but the journal. “I know you’re nervous… and you have plenty of reason to be, but you’re lying.”

“I wasn’t in Vienna. I don’t do that anymore.” Bucky looked over at me as his arm dropped slowly and he laced his fingers through mine.

“Well the people who think you did are coming here now and they’re not planning on taking you alive,” Steve stated.

Worry immediately flooded over me as I instinctively stepped closer to Bucky and shot Steve an incredulous look, “I’m sorry, what?!”

Bucky don’t respond to my comment, instead fixing Steve with a neutral look,“That’s smart, good strategy.”

Steve clenched his fists as he glanced over at the window before back to Bucky,“This doesn’t have to end in a fight, Buck.”

“It always ends in a fight,” Bucky mumbled as he pulled me closer to him.

Steve sighed, “You pulled me from the river. Why?”

“I don’t know.”

Steve replied, his voice stern,“Yes you do.”

At this point I could hear voices coming from Steve’s earpiece as the person began to end their countdown.

Before I even had time to react, the window shattered as a grenade flew through it, rolling across the floor. Bucky kicked it over to Steve as I stood frozen, watching him place his shield over it to mask the explosive.

If only it ended there.

Bullets rained in from the outside as Bucky kicked up the mattress to stop them as best he could.

While crouching down, I turned and watched as the door flew open and men with guns started to flood into the room; I quickly ducked further down as Steve jumped in front of me, pushing back men before they could do anything to me.

When I looked over at Bucky, I saw his fist colliding with a man’s face, efficiently ending that fight before he grabbed my hand and pulled me out the door behind him at a run.

Getting up the stairs was anything but easy as Bucky and Steve deflected incoming bullets and grenades, keeping me firmly in between them.

My mind was racing a million miles per hour as I watched Bucky tackle more than one man at a time; every gunshot causing a flicker of panic to rise in me as I watched man after man fire at him.

The last man had Bucky pinned up against the wall, immediately causing a roar of anger to rise within me as I reached for a nearby gun on the ground. Flipping it, I slammed it into the back of the man’s head and watched him collapse, releasing Bucky.

He let out a soft laugh before grabbing my arm and pulling me the rest of the way up, muttering, “Nice one.”

I looked around as Bucky kicked out the door to a balcony. He turned and gave me an apologetic look before turning so his back was facing towards me.

“Buck- Bucky, what are you doing?”

“Just hold on tight. Please.”

I sighed softly as I jumped onto his back and wrapped my arms tightly around him.

I closed my eyes as I felt him take off at a run. Almost instant regret flooded over me as he jumped over the balcony.

I yelped as my eyes instantly flew open.

As I looked down at the now ant sized cars parked along the street below us, I realized I had a newfound fear of heights. Although I may not have before, I definitely did now.

We both landed with a grunt as we dropped to the rooftop of a building. Pushing myself up, I looked over to see Steve watching with a worried gaze.

I frowned, following his gaze to see a figure smash into Bucky and send them both flying meters away.

I stand and get ready to run over to them before stopping short. I, in no way shape or form, would be able to take down this man. A man who had a black suit, a mask, and claws.

Yep. Claws.

I could only watch helplessly as the two fought, the “Black Panther” clawing at Bucky. As soon as Bucky managed to momentarily throw him off, he ran over and grabbed my hand, barely giving me enough time to register what was happening before he took off at a run, dragging me behind him.

Knowing how to take a hint, I jumped onto his back again and held on tightly as he started jumping off the different levels in order to get to the ground.

He put me down and spoke quickly, “Stay safe, okay? Wait for me. I’ll come back.”

Having no time to reply, I watched as he ran off into highway tunnel.

Even though it was against Bucky’s wishes, there was no way in hell I was going to sit here and wait as everything played out.

I took off at a run into the tunnel behind Steve.

Quickly trying to formulate a plan, I ran over to one of the cars stopped in the middle of the road, the driver standing near it, watching everything unfold from a distance.

Approaching as silently as possible, I slipped inside and slammed on the accelerator, yelling a curt “sorry” back to the driver.

I had no fucking clue what I was doing or what I even planned to do by the time I passed Steve. At this point, I was neck and neck with the black panther and the only thing running through my mind was ‘His running speed is impressive as fuck.’

Taking a breath, I slammed my foot harder on the gas and turned my car in front of the Black Panther, making him crash into it as my head slammed into the steering wheel.

Before even processing the fact that I was now bleeding, the door of the car was being ripped off and thrown.

I was next.

Just as he reached for me, he was hit from behind with Steve’s shield.

Steve yelled, “Run!”

And boy did I run. I pushed myself out of the car and ran ahead of the two of them as they resumed their chase behind Bucky; I didn’t even stop when my vision started to blur.

But when the cops came? Then I stopped. We all did.

Or, better put, we were all forced to.

The sirens rang in my ears as police cars pulled up around all of us.

I felt someone pushing me into the middle of the road before Bucky scooped me into his arms. Steve stood protectively in between him and the black panther.

“Everybody stand down!”

Can somebody just stop produce 101 by Mnet?

I don’t watch produce 101 and not loving the whole concept anyway (reminds me too much of gladiator/ hunger games underage-fate-in-public’s-hand type of thing) but putting caste system for food and toilet priority is just too far (just google produce 101 season 2 grade system).

They basically means “A grade trainees got access to better food and priority for toilet/bathroom, and got worse to F grade”.

This is outright discrimination and abuse, how is this getting approved for public broadcast??? (It’s already recording btw) And they put people in hard place because they can’t just ignore the show since it will affect the grade. Mnet needs to put a stop with their drama thirst, these trainees already got their career hang on their editing in this show what else do you want to sacrifice?? Their morals? Their health?


All the amazing amazing amazing food I got a Vegan Soulfest in Baltimore on Saturday. This was like one of the best days of my life. A vegan festival filled with Black people. I was in heaven! It was an awesome event, I enjoyed it way more than the 2 vegfests I’ve been too. There were tons of vendors selling tons of stuff but I’m a sucker for food so that was priority #1

But yea everything was delicious. I brought a lot of it home because I couldn’t eat that much food in one day! I got lots of mac & cheese and vegan chicken, a rib sandwich, a cheese steak, chocolate chip cookies, carrot cake. The mac and cheese in the last 2 pictures is my fav, it’s from Sweet & Natural and the drumsticks above are too good for this world. I had way too much fun throwing money at people… Black people :))))

I’ve been erratic this past week (yesterday was REALLY up and down–not emotionally, but perceptively), but I’m rescheduling my therapy appointment tomorrow because if I don’t, I’ll have to be up, in a binder, and awake from 5 am to 430 pm, minimum. With no chance to eat at all except…. one 30 minute window between 3 and 3:30 pm.

I know being unstable means my perceptions are untrustworthy. So I know I have to check in with others because I can’t assess situations (or reality) properly. An hour-long therapy session isn’t going to affect any of that. It’s probably going to result in her recommending me DBT exercises or asking me how I “feel” about the situation.

My problem isn’t emotional distress, my problem is I can’t tell if something is real or if my brain is lying to me.

….also, that we’re out of Cokes.

Becoming More Brown Among the White Canvas

You become so much more proud
unapologetically brown
so aware of your mother tongue
so aware of the path you crawled
to open these university doors

Because you come from vecinos
that can’t retell a story
of attending higher ed
a familia with zero history
of enrollment.

Bills and food were priority.
Not the need to study.

You come from ninos
who don’t have teachers
and doctors that look like them.
An absence of graduates.

You come from the bets
your familia placed on you
like a new card in la loteria –
el estudiante – a first generation dream
crossing borders
of low funded schools
to search for yourself
in curriculum
that doesn’t reflect you.

You are the product
of a familia who left
their entire vidas
on the other side of la frontera.
Now they work like machines
to give you a shot at a dream.

So for the first time ever
you walk through halls and classrooms
like an endangered species
surrounded by students and professors
that don’t look like you.
Surrounded in students
who don’t understand you.
Surrounded in the feeling
that you don’t belong.

You carry your mother’s esperanza
in your palms and it feels like a brush
you will use to color
the endless white canvas
that surrounds you.

And you will paint it with the taste
of overcoming a tangled tongue,
of being the first in your familia to balance
el trabajo y el estudio. You will paint
the strangeness of being the chisme
of la vecindad, with all its assumptions
and expectations.
With all of its pressures.

Can you feel
your tios and tias look to you?
Can you feel your primas and primos
look up to you?
Can you feel your papa look
for you?

And so you turn
much more brown,
with all its beauty
and burden,
when you realize how
only your voice
in this class
carries the story
of what it means
to be a prodigy
of your people.

With the pen cradled
in your palm
you listen to the voices
whisper the endless prayer
in your ears…
hechale ganas
para que tu, como yo,
no te quebres la espalda
mi hija, mi hijo.

—  Eric Eztli ( 

hi im mio, im an autistic, trans minor and im living with my dad. my dad can afford to eat at restaurants with his girlfriend, and buy my sister things but he neglects me and refuses to buy me even basic things that i need such as food, clothes and hygiene products. he leaves the kitchen empty until my sister complains about it, which she doesnt often because she eats with her friends. i also have hardly enough close, and almost no masculine clothes. im too young and also too unwell to work myself, and i dont have a paypal i can use for commissions. you dont have to, but itd make me really happy if you could buy me something off my amazon wishlist. the address is preset so dont worry about that. theres clothes, snacks and sweets, things from my special interests, stuff for stimming and some other stuff. clothes and foods are the highest priority for me right now, even if a lot of the food is junk food. again, you dont have to, but itd be really appreciated if you could even buy one thing. the list is here, if you could reblog this too, thatd be nice. if you want something in return i could draw you something if you message me after buying something, but im not the best artist.

One of the most fundamental and also one of the saddest facts in human life is well brought out in a French proverb which, freely translated, means: ‘If Youth had the knowledge and Old Age the strength of doing,’“ said Mr. Tesla. "Our condition of body and mind in Old Age is merely a certificate of how we have spent our Youth. The secret of my own strength and vitality today is that in my youth I led what you might call a virtuous life.

"I have never dissipated. When I was a young man I understood well the significance of that old French proverb, although I doubt that I had even heard it then. But I seemed to have a clear understanding while still young that I must control my passions and appetites if I wanted to make some of my dreams come true.

"So with this in view, quite early in life I set about disciplining myself, planning out a program of living for what I considered the sane and worthwhile life.

"Since I love my work above all things, it is only natural that I should wish to continue it until I die. I want no vacation–no surcease from my labors. If people would select a life work compatible with their temperaments, the sum total of happiness would be immeasurably increased in the world.

"Many are saddened and depressed by the brevity of life. 'What is the use of attempting to accomplish anything?’ they say. 'Life is so short. We may never live to see the completion of the task.’ Well, people could prolong their lives considerably if they would but make the effort. Human beings do so many things that pave the way to an early grave.

"First of all, we eat too much, but this we have all heard said often before. And we eat the wrong kinds of foods and drink the wrong kind of liquids. Most of the harm is done by overeating and underexercising, which bring about toxic conditions in the body and make it impossible for the system to throw off the accumulated poisons.

"My regime for the good life and my diet? Well, for one thing, I drink plenty of milk and water.

"Why overburden the bodies that serve us? I eat but two meals a day, and I avoid all acid-producing foods. Almost everybody eats too many peas and beans and other foods containing uric acid and other poisons. I partake liberally of fresh vegetables, fish or meat sparingly, and rarely. Fish is reputed as fine brain food, but has a very strong acid reaction, as it contains a great deal of phosphorus. Acidity is by far the worst enemy to fight off in old age.

"Potatoes are splendid, and should be eaten at least once a day. They contain valuable mineral salts and are neutralizing.

"I believe in plenty of exercise. I walk eight or ten miles every day, and never take a cab or other conveyance when I have the time to use legpower. I also exercise in my bath daily, for I think this is of great importance. I take a warm bath, followed by a prolonged cold shower.

"Sleep? I scarcely ever sleep. I come of a long-lived family, but it is noted for its poor sleepers. I expect to match the records of my ancestors and live to be at least 100.

"My sleeplessness does not worry me. Sometimes I doze for an hour or so. Occasionally, however, once in a few months, I may sleep for four or five hours. Then I awaken virtually charged with energy, like a battery. Nothing can stop me after such a night. I feel great strength then. There is no doubt about it but that sleep is a restorer, a vitalizer, that it increases energy. But on the other hand, I do not think it is essential to one’s well-being, particularly if one is habitually a poor sleeper.

"Today, at 77, as a result of well-regulated life, sleeplessness notwithstanding, I have an excellent certificate of health. I never felt better in my life. I am energetic, strong, in full possession of all my mental faculties. In my prime I did not possess the energy I have today. And what is more, in solving my problems I use but a small part of the energy I possess, for, I have learned how to conserve it. Because of my experience and knowledge gained through the years, my tasks are much lighter. Contrary to general belief, work comes easier for older people if they are in good health, because they have learned through years of practice how to arrive at a given place by the shortest path.

—  Nikola Tesla. “Tremendous New Power Soon To Be Released.” By Carol Bird. The Charleston Daily Mail, Charleston, West Virginia, Page 40. September 10, 1933.
We all have that ‘one’
The one you think of when you read that first sentence.
The one that weakens us, not only at the knees but deep in our hearts.
The one that can use us like an option when they’re our priority.
The one that we could never hate, no matter how much we try to convince ourselves.
The one, that is our ‘one’
But that’s only because they’re like our fast food;
They taste so sweet and it doesn’t matter what they look like,
because we still crave them at midnight, we want them while we are drunk, we have them when we are lonely,
But after we have them, without fail,
They make us feel uncomfortable and regretful.
Sometimes, the 'one’ can’t stay forever.
…You’re killing me.
—  The one reason I can’t see you.

Internet friend: Do you mind if I ask what you ate today?
Me: Peanutbutter and banana sandwich, why?
Internet friend: I’m just kind of hungry, that’s all.
Me: When is the last time you ate?
Internet friend: Three days ago.
Me: Why don’t you eat?
Internet friend: I’m too busy.
Me: Then make time to eat.
Internet friend: I can’t. I need to work.
Me: Food is a priority! Eat!
Internet friend: I told you, I don’t have time for that!
Me: Fine. If you won’t eat, then I won’t.
Internet friend: Please don’t do that, really, I’m fine.
Me: Promise me that you will eat something?
Internet friend:…Okay.

(Both log out)
Internet friend:*goes down stairs to eat*
Father of friend:*Catches him digging through bread box* What have I told you about taking food?
Father of friend: Food is a privilege. Not a god given right!
Internet friend: But-
Father of friend: But nothing! Now get back to work before I beat your ass.

(Weeks later)
Me: Long time, no chat. ^-^
Internet friend: Hi.
Me: So, Have you eaten?
Internet friend: Oh, yeah…I ate food.
Me: Good. (:

After a long while of talking he admitted to me that he never actually ate and then explained to me why. I wanted to beat his father with a baseball-bat.