a whole lot of chicken


Baby boy turned 22 and Bread came to help him celebrate.

Peter Pan Imagine/Who Are You?

You’re in Neverland, first time ever, and you hate him already, but somehow you ended up in his bed.

Warnings: SMUT, cussing, possessive Pan

You lived in StoryBrooke, a town that was known for it’s magical moments, and fairy tale people who you read as a kid, funny how you lived in a town with them, but when you ended up in Neverland you were not expecting the Peter pan that you knew in the story books, in fact, you met the complete opposite.

When you first arrived you were actually excited, you were always a fan of Peter Pan, you love the movie, the book, so why wouldn’t you like the real thing?

Just as you stepped foot on the soil of Neverland you heard the wonderful sounds that this place has to offer, the wind, the tree’s talking to you as they blow, telling all the secrets, the whistling and the chirps of the birds. As you close your eyes, letting it all in, this is where it all started. 

You heard a leaf crunch on the floor,

(Gasp) you turn around and see nothing. You shrug, maybe it was just my imagination you thought.

That’s when, you heard it again.

“Okay for sure it was something this time.”

You heard it once again but closer, as it was right behind you.

“Show yourself or I’ll make you!” you say as you turn around but nothing is there

“W-what?” you say nothing.

“You’ve got some guts yelling like that.”

You quickly turn around and you see a boy, a tall boy, with long legs, sharp cheekbones, beautiful eyes, chestnut brown hair, and furious eyebrows.

“Wh-who are you?” you ask with a semi confident tone.

“Who am I?” he raised up both eyebrows, but then quickly smirks and laughs.

That sent chills down your spine.

“I think I should be asking who YOU are.” he says in a cocky way.

“That’s none of your business, you must say yours.” with a demanding tone.

“That’s not how it goes, see you’re on my island, I tell you what to do, I tell you when to talk, I tell you what to do and when to do it.” he walks up to you, you are frightened, you are scared, you’re terrified, but you’re damn well not going to let him see that.

“Oh yeah? I’d be a complete idiot to let you control me, some wild boy who thinks he’s charge of this island.” you say

“I’m Peter Pan, I AM king of this island!” he raises his vice at you.

“YOU’RE Peter?”

“Its Pan to you.” he says sternly.

“Ill call you by your first name, your mother called you Peter, so I’m calling you Peter.”

“Call e that one more time and I swear I will make your life a living hell.”

“Pe-mother fucking ter.” you say as you look in his eyes.

“That’s it to the cages!” he yells.

5 days, you were in that cage for 5 days, nothing to eat, drink, and no one to talk to, you were going crazy.

Well that night the caged opened , with Peter right at the door, he gave you water and you near damn chugged that thing like your life depended on it, because well it did.

“Now , are you ready to be a good lost girl for me?” he said a sweet but evil voice.

You stood face to face with Pan himself.

He looked intimidated, but you could not let him see that.

“I’d rather die than be your lost girl.” you say.

Peter turns his face and chuckles. “Well, its your funeral.” he says as he pushes you back into the cage. 

You scream out of shock, no boy has ever laid his hands on you before, but Peter did, he didn’t care, he was pure evil, and you were just figuring this out.

For 2 months Peter would give you enough food and water to survive to make sure you stayed alive, but also to make sure you suffered.

You hated him, you hated him so much, but you couldn’t help but stare, when he would walk by, his jawline, when he licked his lips, his muscular arms, is was sickening, you were crushing over the boy who made your life hell, but little did you know he was thinking the same damn thing.

Peter’s Point Of View

Dammit, she was so damn beautiful, was it sick that I thought about her at night? Her plump lips, her rosy cheeks, her wavy hair, I knew it was terrible of me, but I couldn’t help it, as king of this island I couldn’t go back on my word, but for this once, I wanted her out, out of that cage, and have my right way right then and there, but I couldn’t do that, what would my lost boys think of me? They’d think I was weak, and once they saw that, it’s all over from there.

Regular Point Of View.

It was Peter’s birthday soon and all the lost boys were getting ridiculous crazy with the decorations, they had no idea what to do , nor how to cook, their cooking skills sucked, and you were an amazing chef, so you finally opened your mouth and said something.

“You know I can help.” you said

“The boys all stared at you, you knew all of them, and they all knew you, you had a mutual relationship, it was Peter who was an ass, not them.

“Yeah trust me we’d love if you helped but Pan would kill us.” Felix said

“Then talk him into it! Felix please I’ve been in this cage for almost 3 months, I need to get out, I don’t care if I’m making food for the person I hate the most, I just need to get out of here.” you pleaded to him.

“Alright, I’’ll be back.”

Felix walks to Peter’s door, but it’s open by Peter.

“Great the person I needed to see!.” Felix said.

Peter looks at Felix sideways. 

“Why the hell are you so perky?” he says as he starts to walk.

“I have a question.” Felix said

“Go on.” Peter says.

“The lost boys suck ass at cooking, you know this.” 

“Well duh.” Peter said.bluntly

“But the new lost girl, she’s a great cook.” 

“How would you know?” Peter turns around to raise a brow at Felix

“Oh she told me.” Felix said.

“So you believe anyone who tells you things?” Peter says as he folded his arms.

“Listen she can’t be worse than the lost boys.”

“Oh but she can poison me.” Peter looks into Felix eyes.

“You really think she’d do that?” Felix looked interested.

“Yes.” Peter looked around, then turned to Felix, “Alright, let her cook, but make sure you have an eye on her at all times, if she makes any suspicious moves put her to the cages right away.” he says.

“Good that.” Felix smiles.

About an hour later Felix came back to the camp and opened up your cage, you smiled and thanked him, you both waked to the kitchen and you quickly found your place, it was like you’ve been there forever.

You cooked a whole lot of food, chicken, rolls, even a cake for the birthday boy himself.

You felt good about yourself you cooked and baked, and it only took about 2 hours, but it felt good, to be doing something other than being stuck in a cage.

Peter let you stay out of the cage for his birthday, he was feeling nice tonight, so you all sat down and you got to get to know the lost boys, they were very funny and great boys, you wished you knew them sooner honestly.

You all waited for Peter’s arrival for he liked his lost boys to wait on him, no surprise.

He finally came out of the cabin, he had a crown and a scepter, you rolled your eyes, but clapped and cheered like everyone else.

“Your king has arrived, now lets celebrate!” he yelled

You guys played games like heads up 7 up, charades, never have I ever, and truth or dare. It was all fun and games until someone got too drunk, and the lost boys had to take care of him, most of the lost boys left and helped the poor guy, others just went to sleep, it was just you and Peter now, and it was honestly quite intimidating, but you would never let him know.

“So, are you ready to be my lost girl?” Peter said confidently.

“Hell no, are you ready to let me roam free on the island and do as I wish?” you say just as confidently back.

He raised an eyebrow and smiled.

“Tell me something.” he said as he swirled whatever was in is cup

“Tell you what.” you said sternly, not really a question, more of a answer

“Why do you do this?” He asked

“Do what?” you said a little confuse

“Try to act like someone you’re not.” He said as he said as he sipped his drink

“EXCUSE ME?” you yelled.

“I don’t like repeating myself dear.”

“How the hell do i try to act like someone I’m not?!” you continue to raise your voice

“The same reason you didn’t answer the first question I asked you.”

“I already denied your invitation to be your lost girl.” you said sternly

“That’s NOT the question I meant.” he stood up.

“What question?!” you yelled

“WHO ARE YOU?” he yelled

“I’m Y/n! There Are you happy? I’m Y/n a girl who’s lost-”

“No, no you’re not.” he said as he shook his head.

“What do you mean?” you whispered.

“You like to play this bad ass girl, the girl who is the leader of the group, the girl who takes no shit from no one right? The girl who is strong and independent, and what not.” Peter says, then his voice turns soft. “But you’re not, you’re the girl who is fucked up, who is constantly fidgeting with her fingers,  worried about what she looks like, worried about being perfect.”

“Screw you Peter!” You yell at him

“And yet you’re still not denying it.” he smirks and looks into your eyes.

“Oh like I don’t know who YOU are. You pretend to be this wanna be king, who is self centered and the world revolves around him, and everyone praises and loves him, who’s in charge , but the truth is you’re a stuck up little boy who is pissed off that he didn’t get his way so he moved to his own island to get what he wants!”

“Watch your mouth Y/n or-”

“Or what Peter?! Huh? You’re gonna throw me in the cages? Do it I dare you!” you push him , then he pushes you, you push him right back, you guys are inches away from each other, and just as you were about to walk away Peter pulls you in closer and kisses you.

Your eyes open wide but slowly closes as your lips and his melts into a heavenly feeling.

As you both break away from each other, he clicks his fingers and you’re in his bedroom.

As Peter brings you in closer and kisses your neck he starts to whisper dirty things into your ear, he kisses your neck as he pulls your hair. A moan he got out of you, which brought a smile to his mouth.

“Jump.” he says and you did, your legs wrapped around his torso, he brings you to his bed, and lays you down flat on his bad, he quickly gets on top of you and you start to run your fingers through his hair, lightly tugging, he bites your neck as you do so.

He starts to fondle with your breast, squeezing them, and rubbing your nipples til they’re as hard as they can get, he then puts one in his mouth and starts to suck and lick on one while still playing with the other.

Til you couldn’t take it anymore you finally shout out “OH PETER! I can’t take it anymore I want you.” you say

You could see his eyes and the excitement he had once he heard that.

He took ff your clothes and you took off his, he stood at your entrance and you were terrified, and he could tell.

“First time?” he asked

“Yes.” you said , embarrassed.

“It’s going to hurt, but I promise, I can make you feel good, you need to trust me”

“I trust you Peter.” you say with a smile.

Peter smiles and get’s on top of you, his hair is messy, he is sweaty, and his eyes are full of lust, you are excited,nervous, and in love, and thinking to think you’re just damn crazy.

As he entered you , you began to felt pain, you began to freak out and whine about it, Peter say and admittedly started kissing your forehead.

“Shh baby it’s okay, I got you.”

“It hurts Peer.” you say almost in tears.

“It’s going to love, trust me, bite my finger.”

You did as he said and bit his finger whenever you felt pain, sooner than later Peter was right, the pain did go away, and the pleasure began to kicked in.

Before you knew it you were screaming Peter’s name, and he was loving every second of it.

He was moving his hips side to side, grinding , riding, Peter was so gentle but rough all at once, he was like all you needed all in one. He cared about you, he cared about if he hurt you , he kept asking if you were okay, if you wanted him to slow down, it was like he wanted you to enjoy more than him, you mistook his sick twisted ways for what he really was.

You began to moan nothing into his ear, and barely even having the breath to say anything at all.

You grabbed his back and started digging your nails into it, making little droplets on is back, Peter didn’t mind, he loved it honestly, giving you the pleasure, he was glad to take the pain. He would suck on your neck making blue and purple marks, oh no, he wasn’t going to leave little red patches, he was making his territory known. He marked you up and down claiming you and wanting more.

“You, are mine, and mine alone.” he said as he gets a little sloppy on his hip movements, as were you getting a little knot in your stomach.

“Peter I’m gonna-”

“Me too.” he says.

You both come and he rides out your high, he kisses your fore head once again and rubs your face with his fingers softly, assuring you were okay.

He smiled at you and said “So , I have a question.”

“Yes I’ll be your lost girl.” you smiled

“No, not that.” he smiled

“What then?” you tilted your head.

“Will you be my queen of Neverland?” he smiled

“I will.” 

“Good, cause you had no choice.” 

You laughed and pushed him, he laughed as well.

Finally Peter had his queen, and you had your king.


thats a WHOLE lot of a chicken but am I complaining? no……


There was a lot of time to kill the next day, so I wanted to dedicate it to getting some Korean fried chicken. After all, we were in Koreatown, so we were bound to find something good, right?


I looked for “Korean fried chicken” on Yelp, and it led us to a spot called KyoChon. According to Wikipedia, Kyochon is one of the biggest Korean fried chicken restaurants in South Korea, and they have a location in Koreatown.

There was a list of things that KyoChon stated on their menu when it comes to frying their chicken, but I can’t remember what it is at the moment and I forgot to take a picture, whoops. However, it seems like there’s a very specific process to the frying method that makes it very light and crispy on the outside, while the meat remains juicy and tender.

Apparently KyoChon is also very popular in Koreatown, but we didn’t have an issue ordering food. We were seated right away, and were able to order right away as well. It’s a pretty modern minimalist spot and the bathroom reminded me of a spaceship.

Enough of that though, let’s get to reviewing! Hit the jump for the review.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

how is school my favorite meme lord? any spicy stories from the first two days?

ok ok wowowowow school has got me so frickin busy i am so sorry if this blog hasn’t been as spicy as usual; I’m building a queue rn so it’ll be aight

so lemme rattle some spicy tales about the first 2 weeks of junior year at my new school okay get ready this might be a lil long

• okay when I was driving to school on the first day “stay alive” came on my radio and I straight flipped and almost cried no really I was screaming in my car when it came on

• there’s a student spirit rock on the east side of campus, during the first week it had a tiger on the front and said “welcome to the jungle” and it also featured Harambe on the back


• I sat in front of a very smely man in home room rip me

• so before school started I had no idea who was gonna be in my classes, so when i walked into my first period Spanish class after home room I met up w/ my official new school tour guide @cupcakesarepeople2, aka sam (honestly the child is an absolute honeybun bless him, meme mommy 2.0) and a friend I remembered from summer camp a few years back aka sierra; we all instantly formed an alliance and we had a power trio (it kinda reminded me of the ending of aaron burr, sir where everyone was like “this new person’s cool, let’s be friends with them”)

• my Spanish teacher actually likes me this year, holla (she and my mom are like really good friends, so I’m set for the year)

• I have like 5 periods with sam so ive kinda been following him around like a lost chicken since I don’t know a whole lot of people

• ok so study halls are usually held in the cafeteria, and the teacher is pretty crabby- but you can go to the library which is like 30000x better but you gotta have a pass; the librarian is a total Cinnabon and made me sam and sierra aides so we don’t have to keep getting passes and we never have to go back to the cafeteria ever

• this school is definitely harder than my last one, I gotta get my ass in gear and get studyin bc I need A’s, especially in math and chemistry

• Ive been working on a really cool panting for Art for the past few weeks, I might post it if you want (it’s very meme-y just sayin)


• I have open lunch this year, and for my first lunch at my new school I bought a chicken sandwich from McDonald’s in my car and contemplated how I survived the day (don’t worry famoli I’ve been eating in the library now so it’s gucci, i got the whole power trio to eat there too)


• I wrote an college entrance essay about giant bottles of mustard for english; it’s due Tuesday but I know mr. rabbene is gonna love it

• we’ve got a group presentation on huckleberry finn due on thursday; it’s finna be lit and full of memes (also I think sam is gonna make apple pie or some huck finn related dessert, it’s gonna be rad)

• on day 2, some peasant emo lady told me to “stop screaming in her f*ckin ear” when I was speaking a good yard away from her (it’s good tho bc I hit her with like 5 tootsie rolls at the parade yesterday)

• algebra 2 is gonna be p a i n f u l, my teachers cool and all but I’m gonna need to work my butt off bc she’s not crystal clear when she teaches

• chemistry this year is gonna be the best but also the worst at the same time; mr. hindy is a walking meme and full of hilarious quotes; I’m also sitting in front of the dude that played Gaston in beauty and the beast; so we probs gon have gaston/lefou lab sessions

• after the first two days of school im not sure if I was like super overwhelmed or adjusting to change or what but I had really bad stress headaches in the evenings

• I’ve mascotted two games, a cross country meet, a pep rally, and a parade and it’s been amazing, I’m having an absolute blast donning the tiger costume every weekend

okay famoli that about sums up my first two weeks at school, hope all ya meme farmers have a wonderful crop yield this season; lov u all ️*scurries back into hole in the ground*

anonymous asked:

Have you ever considered foods you can blend down into small portions but still get lots of nutrition? Smoothies, applesauce or even just a soup you can save and nom at your leisure? I don't mean to be pushy or anything just some part of my brain is demanding that I make sure a random stranger on Tumblr doesn't get sick from Malnutrition or something.

I have vitamin and protein powder that I mix with cups of whole milk. I also eat a lot if chicken noodle soup and snack on apples and peanut butter. I also take vitamins too. I have a blender and I’d live to try some smoothies! I just need to get some ice that isn’t tap water ice cause it sucks.

The other week, I received three Bhut Jolokia chilies, which I gave to my friend Alvie AKA @am-ende-der-welt-blog to make spicy food with, as I am a wimp that way.

One of them, she put in a whole batch of yellow plum chutney, of which she gave me one glass. I tried a tiny dollop, and it was hot as all hell, while the taste of the chutney was still there, so go Alvie.

Today, I put a very hesitant spoonful of the chutney into a whole pot of One Pot Curry with lots of veggies, chicken, coconut milk and rice, and it’s still rather impressively spicy, but quite edible.

That’s how hot a million scovilles is.

anonymous asked:

fight me the only character development that chicken shit has had is wOW I SHOULDNT DO SHIT THAT FUCKS UP WITH TIME


Okay but in all seriousness, get ready for me to explain why Marty IS in fact a flawed and developed character, because I will defend his character to the grave son.

Marty has a very complex sense of pride. He lets people provoke him into fighting easily, but has little confidence to go through with it when it comes time to actually fight. Most people just shrug this off seeing that’s played for laughs because of how short mjf is, but it could be that he’s actually a pretty insecure person. He even talks in the beginning of the first film about how afraid he is of being rejected. This fear of rejection or appearing weak controls many parts of his life (obviously) when he’s called “chicken”, or when people make a statement about him being afraid of things, etc. it is shown to affect his future very negatively. He gets into the car crash, gets fired, and ends up in an unhappy marriage because of this fear. We see this in Part II as Jennifer doesn’t come home for “hours” (possibly implying that she’s having an affair??) and when Lorraine claims “I think the only reason your mother married Marty was because she felt sorry for him.” when talking to Marlene (assuming she’s referring to the accident).  

Another interesting thing about this is that Marty was actually bullied when he was younger (as is stated in the official comics), so this actually adds more to why Marty would feel the need to fight everyone to “prove he isn’t chicken”. I know a lot of people are very annoyed by the whole “chicken” thing, and like to ignore it for the most part, but honestly it says a lot about Marty. 

BONUS POINT: When Marty’s great-great (?) grandfather is talking about who Marty was named after (the original Martin Mcfly) he states that the original Martin McFly met a deadly fate for the same fear. There’s also a LOT of other factors (the blank tombstone, the coffin-fitting, etc) in Part III which implies that Marty could have met a similar fate had he not been careful or taken Doc’s advice into consideration. Hell, it even did end up with him getting into a car accident, he just got lucky and suffered minor injuries.

Another notable flaw is his uh..greediness (??) okay, I admit that’s not the best word for it, but he is a bit obsessed with money. Some prime examples include him wanting to use the sports almanac to make money placing bets for personal gain, and him saying to Doc in Part II, “I know I make it big, but what do I become like a rich rock star?” (that’s not to say he’s not still passionate about his music, but yes the whole ‘rich rock star’ thing implies he’s pretty concerned with being wealthy as well). This included with well..the entire ENDING of Part I contribute to how highly he places money and material possessions. He even thinks higher of his parents/family members for being more rich and successful then their original 1985 timeline counterparts. A part of the happy ending in Part I even consists of him getting the expensive truck he wanted at the beginning of the film. There are other little things in the trilogy that contribute to this (finding out he lives in Hilldale, all the fancy shit in his future house, etc.) He clearly does not take it as far as Biff does in the 1985A timeline, and he’s definitely not going to let anyone else suffer for his own desire to be rich (hence him burning the sports almanac at the end of Part II, which could also be considered part of his character development).

And as for your point about his character development only consisting of understanding the consequences of time travel, I think this general “don’t mess with the space time continuum” moral has less to do with Marty and more to do with an overall theme of the movie. If anything, Doc is much more concerned about the consequences of time travel. BUT WE’RE HERE TO TALK ABOUT MARTY. 

Marty, by the end of the third movie, actually refuses to fight Biff’s great great grandfather (??) and claims “I don’t care what Tannen thinks, and I don’t care what anybody else thinks either!”, maybe you didn’t see this as that big of a statement, but this was probably a big breakthrough for him, as he has not said no to a fight any other time in the entire trilogy (and possibly not for years before the events of the trilogy). 

I see all of this as GREAT, but still subtle character development. Maybe it isn’t as huge as some other larger character-developments, but I do think Marty’s character is really-well written. Just because his flaws aren’t huge and dramatic, and don’t take up a huge portion of the story, doesn’t mean they’re not there. 

Anyways sorry for rambling, I do see your point and I get why at first glance it seems like Marty doesn’t learn anything, but he in fact DOES, it’s just pushed to the side in order to compensate for the story.  I also tend to relate to his character flaws so maybe it’s just easier for me to see them personally, whereas many people probably don’t see it because they think he has unrealistic tendencies, and don’t personally relate to him. But I rest my case, Marty is a developed character who learns lessons, and has flaws. You just need to look a little closer.

Lets Talk Chicken........

…….Whole roast chicken that is. Now there are a lot of complicated roast chicken recipes out there with long lists of ingredients and complicated instructions that involve making complicates stuffings, and complicated roasting techniques, and complicated pan sauces and that’s great. Those recipes can yield some delicious meals. But I’m here to tell you that it doesn’t have to be that complicated. It can be something that takes you 5 minutes to get into the oven or takes 2 hours (if that’s what you want this recipe is not for you).

Here’s the Bare-Minimum: (But read this whole post through before you start because there are some REALLY REALLY REALLY simply (we’re talking crazy simple here guys) extra things you can do to make it extra good if you want, have time, have spoons, and have ingredients)

Neccessary tools:

  • oven
  • oven safe pan or dish large enough for your chicken to sit without being crowded.
  • hot pads
  • a knife
  • cutting board


  • 1-3-5 lb chicken (makes 3-6 meals)
  • Lots of Salt (Kosher salt is best but really anything will work)

1) If time allows set your chicken out to come to room temperature (if you don’t have time or forget like I usually do don’t spend one singe second worrying about this)

2) I can see you fretting….. STOP IT!!! It’s going to be great, I promise.

3) Preheat your oven to 450 degrees F.  Place you chicken on a cutting board, and look at the cavity and if there is lots of extra fat or skin around the opening trim that stuff off and toss it.

4) Rub that baby down with lots of salt inside and out, seriously make it snow. Believe me.

5) Place Chicken in your oven safe dish and bake in the oven for 60-90 minutes until chicken registers 165 degrees F in the thickest part of the thigh (that’s the part under the drumstick). If you don’t have a thermometer that’s when the flesh feels firm and juices run clear when pierced with a knife in the thigh. Now set a timer and get out of the kitchen, go watch some TV, or do some homework, maybe take a shower, call your mom and brag, of follow my blog because I’m cool and I like followers jk….. I don’t care but get out of the kitchen, but for god’s sake set a timer because forgetting your chicken will lead to sadness.

6) Remove from oven, let sit for 10 minutes (believe me you want to wait or all the wonderful juices that make your meat moist and tasty will run right out). Carve and eat.

Now you can be done. And you can eat it and it will be really great. And really delicious and really impressive.

You could try trussing it which will mean that your breast cooks more evenly and is more moist….. I really recommend you do this its easy (watch this 49 second video)….


and it really helps.

Things you can stuff in the cavity: (or just toss these on the side in the backing dish)

  • fresh herbs (thyme, sage, rosemary, oregano, and/or tarragon are my favorites)
  • lemon cut in half
  • head of garlic cut in half

Things you can rub on with the salt:

  • pepper
  • really any dried herb
  • really any powdered spice

Things you could pour in the pan with the chicken to make sure its extra moist and flavorful:

  • water (yup that stuff that you get out of your tap probably for freesies if you live in an apartment)
  • wine (red or white, cheap or expensive, boxed or bottled, fortified or otherwise just as long as you think its tasty enough to drink)

So you think something on the side would be nice?

Well I agree and here are some things you could do….

  • Warm up some crusty bread in the oven while the chicken is resting, slice it up (or rip it up) and tada you have a really super french meal.
  • Make a salad this can be as simple or complicated as you want, a salad can really just be some greens will a dollop of you favorite dressing on top. Or you can make crouton and chop a bunch of stuff an make a nice dressing but really I recommend the bag of spring mix with a bottled vinegrette on it.
  • Roast some root veggies with the chicken by:

                gathering your desired veggies (carrots, potatoes, onions, shallots, parsnips, etc.)

                wash and your veggies and peel the ones you want to peel.

               cut them up into bite sized chunks, toss them with a little oil and salt and pepper and any herbs you might want and add them to the dish with the chicken after about 30 to 45 minutes and let the chicken and the veggies finish together.

Think an little sauce might be nice?

Make one by……

When the chicken is done roasting remove the dish from the oven and move the chicken to a cutting board to rest, then if necessary remove any herbs or or garlic or lemon halves you tossed in that you might not want to eat straight and reserve the lemon if you used it but discard the herbs and garlic. Now remove the veggies if you roasted them and put them in a bowl to serve them from.

Now if your dish is safe to use on the stove top (glass is not safe for the stove top it will break) place it on a burner set to high and bring to a boil (if you dish is not safe scrape as much drippings as you can into a saucepan and proceed) once it is at a boil ad in half a cup of water or wine if you have it and boil until it has reduced to a nice thick sauce stirring frequently scraping the bottom to get any stuck on bits. If you used a lemon and you did not use wine you cold then squeeze in just a little juice into the sauce and stir it in. Done.

Now you can use any combination of the above ideas and your chicken will come out brown crispy moist and delicious. Make this for your friends, family, or that special someone and I promise it will never fail to impress and delight even if all you do is the bare-minimum. If you have any questions feel free to visit my blog (which is NSFW) and hit me up, I love talking about food and cooking, and I love getting mail.


Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9.  Part 10Part 11. snip.

Summary: Arranged marriage in the twenty-first century might have been uncommon, but not unheard of. “What,” she muttered tiredly, “have I married into?”


In a world full of temporary things, you are a perpetual feeling.


It was only after she’d said it that she realized how it had been niggling at the back of her mind ever since he’d told.

She appreciated his honesty—she really did, but that didn’t mean her heart wouldn’t rebel against her mind. She was, by no means  one of those people whose lives were commanded by the concept of chastity. She’d kissed her fair share of frogs—it was just that her mind was scared to admit that Sasuke might be, not only a prince, but the prince. And if he was The Prince, then he wasn’t perfect and the little child in her heart would be crushed.


He had the sexiest lips she’d ever seen; just the right amount of pouty and luscious. Gorgeous. And soft, she remembered. So soft. She dreamed about biting into them, sucking on them, kissing them thoroughly. She would almost feel the softness of them, taste the saltiness of them and she would lean forward unknowingly. Then she’d catch herself and blush furiously. She’d busy herself with menial tasks—run an errand, clean her locker, immerse herself in research, and one unfortunate time, even cooked.

Sasuke for his part seemed to have returned to his usual quiet, solemn self. He spoke when spoken to, took care of her when she needed him to and once, even let her talk him into lining his eye—until she actually started doing it—“Are you insane?” He’d cried out in listless fury.

His eyes were magnificent; black as onyx and such a startling juxtaposition of cold and warm her heart thudded with the intensity of it. Every time he would pin her with his gaze, she’d lose her train of thought. Case in point—

“Sakura, you put a goddamn fork in the microwave?” he asked incredulously, brandishing the fire extinguisher with exaggerated severity. Sakura feared it would fall from his hands and crash on the floor.

“I—you were distracting me!” she accused.

He gave her a disbelieving look. What is wrong with you? It said.

They looked at the charred, barely recognizable disposition of the microwave. It looked sad and depressing—like a cadaver lying lifeless on the morgue table. On the inside, they watched the grisly remains of that nights dinner with the tines of the fork still sparking menacingly.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, not meeting his gaze.

She heard him let out a sigh of long suffering and caved a little into herself.


He cried when Mufasa died. She was ninety nine point nine, nine, nine percent sure that he did. It was dark and the only part of his face she could see was his profile but—there was the smallest, tiniest pinprick of a tear. Her heart gave a little flip and keeled over in her chest.

She wanted to pinch the life out of his cheeks, kiss the thoughts out of his brain and hug the soul out of his body.

She didn’t.

What she did do was weave herself around him even more snugly than usual, so that he wouldn’t be able to move even if he tried.

He didn’t.


She started noticing the bleary eyes and the late night’s right when their schedules started coinciding. He woke up early, went to sleep late, tried to be everything else in between. She could see the heaviness in his shoulders, the knots in his muscles, the strain on his mind. She started worrying.

It kept niggling at the back of her mind, but when she tried to actually do something it always backfired.

“Sakura,” he’d choked past the assault on his taste buds, “Please don’t ever do that again.”

In defiant retaliation she had taken a bite out of her homemade healthy egg white and kale omelet. Then she’d sat back in her seat and promised herself she’d never, ever go near the stove again.

A week after, he’d collapsed from a temperature of a hundred and four degrees. She had never felt more like a failure in her life.


She made the requisite calls for him—and by that she meant notifying Itachi, who handled things from there. Then she watched him lay down and breath hard, sway this way and that until she pushed him back on the bed, stroked his hair aside and felt his forehead. It was burning.

She tucked him in and fretted about what to do next, remembered she was a certified medical professional and cursed herself for losing her mind over nothing. She sighed. Then she reminded herself of the time when she’d insisted upon attending school in a hundred and three degree fever. It wasn’t that bad.

She only just collapsed once.

She promptly took out her phone and called in a family emergency. Then she thought longingly of all the surgeries she’d miss, steeled her resolve against all the bad karma she was inviting by thinking such thoughts and came back to fretting over Sasuke again.

She wondered how he used to manage without anyone being there for him. An image of Mikoto popped unbidden in her mind and she understood now, how Mikoto would take care of her kids like a mama bear.

The fever would break only with proper rest, a tiny bit of medical intervention and a whole lot of chicken soup—both for the health and the soul. She was not good at making chicken soup—either for health nor for the soul.

With tentative, hesitant fingers, she called Mikoto.


Mikoto arrived in a whirlwind of homemade dishes and imported pashmina blankets.

Sakura immediately felt better.

“Thank you for calling me, Sakura-chan,” she smiled at her, then went back to stroking Sasuke’s cheek. His breathing was still hard, his skin was still glossy with sweat and his temperature was still running high. All of that was completely normal, and yet Sakura couldn’t help but fret.

“I didn’t know what to do,” she told Mikoto, ashamed.

“It’s alright,” Mikoto told her kindly. “He’s just tired.”

All those late nights, all those early mornings, catching up to him, thought Sakura. She wondered if Mikoto thought if she was a failure of a wife. She didn’t want her to.

They sat on the bed; Mikoto folded elegantly next to Sasuke and Sakura by his feet, almost at the very edge.

“He needs to take his medicine, but I didn’t want to give him any on an empty stomach,” she said, looking at the duvet. “I don’t—um.”

“I know Sakura-chan,” said Mikoto gently. “Come help me make some porridge.”


In the kitchen, Mikoto took out porridge oats, milk cartons and a jar of honey from a shopping bag. All the while Sakura stood on the side, awkwardly picking at the counter edge.

“Would you get me the salt, love?” Mikoto asked, taking out a saucepan and sprinkling a batch of oats in efficiently.

Sakura felt like an assistant nurse handing over the tin blade to the doctor. A small prickle of shame went down her spine as she handed over the salt. She found herself floundering for something to say.

“It’s not like I didn’t try,” she started defensively, “It’s just that every time I cook it turns into an epic disaster!” she finished, slightly hysterical, not wanting Mikoto to think less of her. She realized in that moment that Mikoto’s impromptu and slightly senile liking of her had given her a confidence that she would never be ready to let go off.

“Oh, Sakura-chan,” said Mikoto lovingly, “I would never judge you on something like that.” She opened her arms wide and Sakura found herself sinking into her warm embrace. It felt like love and Sakura soaked in the acceptance from it.

When Mikoto let go, she felt the distinct loss of that embrace deep in her chest.

She accepted the carton of milk and yogurt she was handed and set on to thin the mixture while Mikoto poured milk into the saucepan and set it to boil. They worked in a comfortable silence and Sakura felt all her long-bottled misconceptions about the Uchiha matriarch slowly ebb away.

Mikoto poured the porridge into a bowl and put a thick glob of golden honey on top. It looked absolutely delectable.

Mikoto gently shook Sasuke awake. His face sharpened as he finally registered her face and when he tried to force himself up, it was Mikoto who lightly pushed him back and made him lean on the pillows instead. She spoon fed him the porridge forcefully and Sasuke shot her a look of such indignant grievance that Sakura couldn’t quite smother her smile. He shot her a betrayed glance, then accepted the spoon hovering in front of his mouth.

Later, when Mikoto was whipping up dinner, he held Sakura back and with a puffy-faced, reproachful gaze, he said, “You called my mother?”

She shrugged helplessly, not wanting to explain how she’d lost all her senses.

He held her eyes for one, two, three seconds; then swayed precariously. Blinking back her edginess, Sakura gently pushed him back on the bed. “You have to rest. Let the meds work.”

She could feel the annoyance in his sigh. She could also feel the dampness of his shirt. The fever was breaking, she noticed with relief. He must have been feeling slightly loopy, as through the delirious haze of fever, he said, “Thank you.”

For what, she never knew.


All hands at deck, her pager insisted. It was ten to midnight and she needed to book it to the hospital. She also needed to take care of Sasuke. In the end, she decided to err on the side of caution.

“Would you stay with him?” she asked Mikoto.

“Do you even need to ask, darling?”

In a flurry of pink hair and neon backpack, Sakura was gone.


Sasuke came to again at precisely six-thirty in the morning. He was disoriented to find that he wasn’t backed up in his usual tiny corner of the bed. In fact, he was very firmly tucked in and could distinctly feel the swollen state of his throat. His eyes, he found were gritty and irritable. His body felt heavy and cumbersome. His nose was stuffed and unable to perform.

He heaved himself up on noodley arms. His head swam. He sighed and hauled himself up, then trudged slowly into the kitchen.

Halfway through he couldn’t quite catch his breath, but because he was Sasuke, and therefore intermittently stubborn, he pushed himself all the way into the kitchen. He even managed to pour himself a glass of cool water that he promptly choked on because his throat constricted at the cold.

And then, like an avenging angel, his mother swooped out of nowhere and pounded him on the back to ease the cough. Sasuke hacked through the bewildered haze of the severely sick and when he finally felt like he could breathe again, he croaked out an incredulous, “Mother?”

“Oh, Sasuke-kun,” Mikoto sighed, dismayed, “Why would you get out of bed?”

Sasuke blinked long and hard to clear away the disorientation, then croaked again, “Mother?”

“Yes, darling,” said Mikoto, gently helping him up and towards his room.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, shuffling listlessly and trying to pry away from her.

“Sakura-chan had to go to the hospital, so she asked me to stay,” she told him kindly and held on firmly to his arm.

Sasuke scowled past the soreness in his throat.

“Are you hungry?”


“I’ll make you some porridge.”


“You just lie down, darling.”

“I am not an invalid, Mother!”

“Of course not, darling.”

Sasuke found that he didn’t have the energy to even sputter out a decent rebuttal. So he gave up and let his mother tuck him in.

By the time Mikoto returned, he’d partially dozed off again. He woke up to a gentle hand stroking his head and let her feed him porridge. Then he swallowed his medicine with warm milk and passed out again.


Sakura found herself rushing from one patient to another, not even having time to breathe. The labs were overcrowded, her chief was on a warpath and there was a girl bleeding her guts out on the OR table. In the back of her mind she worried about Sasuke, and in the front of her mind, she worried about the artery being cauterized and still bleeding blood.

Ten hours later, when she finally had time to breathe again, she called home. Home.  The modernist monstrosity that Sasuke owned was now home. She wasn’t quite startled.

Mikoto picked up after two rings.

“Hey, how is he?” she asked urgently.

“He’s fine, sweetheart.”

“That’s good. Did he take the afternoon dose?”

“Not yet.”

“Okay, would you please make sure he does?”

Mikoto’s laugh was happy and tinkling. “Of course, dear.”

Sakura breathed a small sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, dear. When will you be back?”

Sakura looked around the throngs of people morosely. “A bus was hit by a train. It’s going to be long.”

“I see,” said Mikoto, and Sakura could hear the sad compassion in her tone even through the phone. “Take care, Sakura-chan.”

“I will.”


When he woke up next, he felt decidedly clear headed. Even his throat itched less. Mikoto sat at his desk, a pair of reading glasses perched on her nose as she read.


She looked up and smiled. “Yes, Sasuke-kun?”

“You’re still here.”

“Of course I am.”

Her bright, sunny countenance made him feel a little better. “Sakura?” he asked.

“At the hospital, still.”

He closed his eyes, opened them again when she came to sit by his side. The look in her eyes made him remember childhood years when he used to stick to her like glue.

“Do you remember Sasuke-kun? When you were a baby, you never used to sleep unless you had a fist full of my clothes in your hands.”

Sasuke did remember. “Aa.”

Mikoto sighed. “I miss babying you boys.”

He didn’t reply, just scooted to the side so she could sit beside him. He closed his eyes in warm bliss when she stroked his hair again.

“How is life with Sakura-chan?”

Sasuke knew she must have been dying to ask him that. “It’s…getting there.”

“Is she nice?”


Her laugh was warm and bright. “Are you happy?”

Sasuke thought about it. “Yes.”

“I’m happy for you, too.” Mikoto leaned across and tucked him in a little better. “When you reach my age, you realize what really matters most in this brief time on earth. Family, honor, love.” She put a gentle hand on his head. “Of a man should have all three, he is indeed blessed.”

“I know, Mother.”

“Now if we could just find a nice, young man for Itachi—”


“Oh, alright,” she said, and was silent for only a second. “But I was right about Sakura-chan and you.”

She sounded triumphant and Sasuke didn’t have the heart nor the energy to deny her. “We were lucky,” he said instead.



“What?” she said innocently.

Sasuke let out a resigned sigh. Mikoto patted his hand. None of them missed how it was fisted in her shirt.


By the time Sakura returned, Mikoto was spoon feeding chicken-noodle soup to Sasuke.

“What,” she muttered tiredly, “have I married into?”

“Sakura-chan!” Mikoto trilled. She looked ecstatic. Sasuke looked about ready to jump off the deep end, but Sakura suspected that was just a ploy to appear more adult than he actually felt.

“Hi,” she said, and moved forward to feel his forehead. It was slightly warm; better then the furnace it was ten hours before.

“You look tired,” said Mikoto, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“I am,” she said, feeling the ache in her bones and the grit in her eyes.

“Oh, honey,” said Mikoto, taking her bag and pulling her into a tender hug. “Let’s put you to bed.”

Sasuke suspected his mother was having the time of her life.


Mikoto returned home on the utmost insistence of her husband. Sasuke suspected Itachi might have a hand in her impromptu departure. He felt grateful yet strangely bereft.

Sakura lay next to him—still tired, yet awake.

“How are you?” she asked.

“Better,” he replied.

Sakura squinted at him. “I guess you are,” she said, for he looked slightly better than death warmed over. Then, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

She looked ashamed of herself and Sasuke didn’t know why. “It was fine.”

“It wasn’t,” she insisted, “If you’d have left me like that I would have punched you in the face.”

Amused, Sasuke said, “I’ll keep that in mind.” Pensive, he added, “Although I would have preferred if you wouldn’t have called Mother.”

She smirked, the edges of which were softened by exhaustion. “As if. You like being emasculated by mommy.”

Sasuke let out a series of decidedly undignified sneezes in response and she patted him on the head, almost patronizingly. “It’s very cute.”

“Shut up.”

“You, shut up.”

Sasuke shot her a semi-irritated glance. Any other day, she would’ve leaned forward and cocooned herself in his embrace. Today, she stayed rooted for risk of infection. “How was your day?” she asked instead.

His lips twitched at the side, before settling back into a straight line. He shrugged.

“What did you do all day?”

He shrugged.

“Was it like being little again?”

His expression was self-aggrandizing, so Sakura knew she’d hit the nail on the head. She burrowed deeper into the pillow and rested her cheek on the side. “What did you used to do when you were a kid?”

He didn’t answer. Just stared up at the ceiling.

“What did you used to play with? What was your favorite subject to study? What did you like to eat the most?”

Slowly, Sasuke turned his head to the side.

Under the duvet, she reached out and tucked her hand in his. “I didn’t have many friends, so I played with my dad. I used to love chemistry because I liked mixing stuff in beakers; made me feel like a scientist,” she squeezed his hand gently and whispered grandly, “I always did and forever will, love cheesecake.”

Slowly, Sasuke squeezed her hand back, then looked up at the ceiling again. Just when she thought he had fallen asleep, he said, “Played with my brother, studied hard and tried to please my father.”

He fell into silence again and she scooted a little closer to him. “My only friend was a kid named Shikamaru and he was so lazy he refused to play anything but board games.”

“Itachi was my best friend.”



“He’s evil.”

“He’s not.”

“Is, too.”

“I refuse to indulge your childish behavior.”

“And I refuse to indulge your crappy entendres.”

He coughed. She didn’t cringe away. “You’re annoying.”

“Your face is annoying.” There was no inflection in her words.

They both fell into silence.

“I would very much like to kiss you,” she said softly.

Sakura knew that his shuddery inhale could only have been of surprise. In the soft light of the lamp her cheeks grew warm. “I mean, not now, because you’re sick and I don’t want to catch that bug. But maybe when you get better?”

“Of course,” he said in stiff appropriation, as if committing the remaining days of his life to a suicide squad.

“Good,” she said and closed her eyes, finally succumbing to sleep.


Part 9

anonymous asked:

Hey I follow you on snap. You always eat so healthy and work out so inspiring seriously! Have you lost any weight and any tips xxx

Thank you 🙏🏾✨ yes I’ve lost 19 pounds since I started end of last summer! I make sure to not lose it too fast cause I don’t wanna gain it back. I drink 2-3 litres of water each day, eat 3 portions of vegetables and 2 of fruits, a lot of fish and chicken breast and only whole weat noodles, brown rice, sweet potatoes etc. And I work out 4 times a week ☺️

5'8’’, age 20, training for a marathon in the spring. I run 30-ish miles a week now (I started with 10) and I eat pretty much what I want (lots of egg whites, whole grains, vegetables, Cliff bars, and grilled chicken), especially when I’m burning 2500+ calories a day. My motivation isn’t weight loss at all, but I feel awesome and fit! (also sorry my room is a disaster all the time haha)

1st: Sep 2013, ~140 lb, 35-28-39

2nd: Oct 2013, ~135 lb, 35-27-38

3rd: Dec 2013, ~128 lb, 35-25.5-36

Follow here for more before and after weight loss, fitness, and healthy lifestyle!

I always see those posts that say something like “Vegans wouldn’t survive the apocalypse!” and I’m almost thinking about making a sort of satirical e-book about how to survive the apocalypse as a vegan. I think it could be an interesting and fun concept, which would actually contain a lot of practical information incidentally (especially on how to survive when you’re poor or in a bad situation).

Fitz Theory

Ok, Fitz was acting kind of weird in that last scene. He’s hiding something and I have three theories about what it is:

1. He’s hiding how upset he is and trying to make everyone think he’s ok. This is the most obvious choice and I think that, even if one of my other theories proves true, this one will remain true as well. Poor guy is barely holding it together and when, not if, he blows up it will NOT be pretty.

2. He’s hiding the fact that one of the simulations really did work and he can open the portal, but he doesn’t want to. I hope the show will never go there because if there’s one thing that we know about Fitz, it’s that he’s good. I hope he wouldn’t sacrifice Will’s life just to avoid him getting in the way of his relationship with Jemma.

3. He’s hiding something he’s found out about Will: something that would upset Jemma. This is the theory I personally think is right. I think he was about to tell her something a whole lot bigger than “the simulations didn’t work” but he chickened out. He was acting like he did in 1.19 when he was too scared to tell her he loved her. Then, when she said he’d understand her desire to get Will back if he knew Will, he said that weird “Oh, I am going to know him” line. I think he’s found out something weird about Will and he’s looking for a way to prove it to her. Also, did anyone else notice that Will looked EXACTLY the same in those pictures on Fitz’s computer as he did on the planet? Sign me up for whatever skin care he’s using because dude hasn’t aged in 14 years!