cooking for my dad

Piper and Annabeth talking and the topic of their boys cooking comes up and pipers like “yah Jason’s pretty hot when he cooks” and Annabeth has flashbacks to Percy wearing a revolting blue apron and those ugly fish oven mitts and she’s just like “Percy’s can be hot sometimes I guess”

tag game: type the main seven shadowhunters character’s names and put the first thing that comes up into the tags

My mom made pork chops for dinner even though she hates cooking because she knows my dad loves them, and downstairs I can hear my dad quietly but enthusiastically singing to himself, “I’m having pork chops, I’m having pork chops” followed by a second verse that I think maybe went, “my baby loves me.” MY PARENTS ARE SO CUTE

3

Cultural Exchange. (Yuuri can’t cook, but luckily he also can’t speak Russian.)

The Nanny

A/N: I know, a new series. But I just needed a new idea. Anyways this is the first part to what I’m hoping to be a 6 part series. Let me know what you guys think

Word count: 2,000 something words

Warnings: Mentions of a house fire, minor death not graphic

Summary: When Bucky Barnes hired a Nanny, he thought he was going to hire someone to take care of the kid. But when she starts, he knows that she is more than just a Nanny

The Nanny MasterList

“Looking for a full time Nanny. Must be able to work late and be able to take care of both a kid and a dog. I am willing to provide a room for you to sleep in. In interested please Email me your resume at jbbarnes6412@gmail.com

Thank you,
J. Barnes”

As you read what seemed like the millionth job ad, you copied the listed email address into the empty email box.

Dear Mr. Barnes,
Below I have attached my resume. I hope I am a good fit for what you are looking for. My hours are flexible and I love dogs almost as much as I love kids.

Sincerely,
Y/N Y/L/N

Keep reading

I am sick and tired of these stupid videos going viral on facebook about how technology has made us antisocial and that social media is evil.

Let me tell you a story. I’m half English, but live in Spain. I get to see my English family, at best, once a year. Sometimes not even that.

I love my English grandparents, but we don’t have many things in common. We can get a nice 20 minute talk going about what we’ve been doing lately, and then I usually fall silent whilst my mum talks about cooking with my grandma and my dad goes on to talk about science with my granddad. It’s so disappointing, because I barely see them, and I can only rely on their interest in what I’m doing with my life to start a conversation.

A few months ago we flew to England and stayed with them a few days. Whilst having supper, naturally (as always) the conversation started with how I was doing, and what I was planning to do with my future now that I had graduated. I told them I was thinking about moving back to Japan to start working there. Somehow, one way or another, we started talking about life in Japan, and my parents chipped in by commenting on their experience in Tokyo as tourists. “There’s so many people!” And then someone asked, “what’s the population of Japan?”

And I said, “Let me google that.”

So I pulled out my smartphone. 127.3 million. Can you believe it? That’s a lot! That’s twice as much as the UK, isn’t it? What is the population of the UK? Granddad says 60 million, but grandma says 62.

Google says 64.1 million.

What about Spain? 50 million, perhaps? 55? Mum says 48, dad says 40. Nope, it’s 46.77 million as of 2014, says google.

We all guessed at the population of the US, of Canda, of France, of Germany; we cheered when one of us had almost hit the mark, and gasped at unexpected numbers. We looked up the dates of historical events, we read random wikipedia facts, we searched Stonehenge on google maps and read about the theories behind it, we googled ‘disc symbols ancient’ to try and figure out what this paperweight my granddad had in his office was supposed to be because he couldn’t remember its name and immediately found out it was a replica of the Phaistos Disc. “‘Disc symbols ancient’! How did google know what we were looking for just from that? That’s amazing!”

We went on for hours, and it was so. much. fun. For three whole hours, three. whole. fucking. hours, every topic we talked about was somehow linked to googling facts or images on my smartphone, and do you know what my granddad said to me as we started cleaning everything up?

He said this thing I had was amazing, and he wanted one too.

Technology is not a conversation stopper. It’s a conversation starter, and if you don’t know how to be responsible, if you don’t know how to make use of this amazing thing we have to keep a conversations going, then the problem isn’t smartphones, or facebook, or twitter. It’s you.

anonymous asked:

Could you write something based on that new bughead pic of them fixing up the car?? Your stories are so good they are holding me over until October haha

Thankyou! I sure can try!
***

Jughead shuffled his feet on the Andrews front porch, he could remember a time where he felt comfortable waltzing into the large family home without even knocking, but that was then and this was now, things had changed, people had changed.

Archie answered the door, his hands covered in paint as he rubbed them desperately on his jeans, the red heads eyes widened, it had been four weeks since he had seen Jughead standing beside him at the hospital, he had disappeared after that. Archie just figured it was too much for him, Fred Andrews almost death had been too much for a lot of people, himself included.

“Jughead? Everything okay?” He motioned for the beanieless boy to come in. Jughead followed Archie and sat on the living room couch.

“have you taken up art in the past month?” Jughead asked, his voice teasing but tense.

Archie looked down at his wrecked clothes and paint stained skin, he chuckled lightly.

“This? Nah, dad needs help around the house. Ya know, it makes him feel better to see things done. I let him think he’s the one doing it then when he goes down for his nap I finish it up, pretend he just forgot that he did it.” Archie shrugged his shoulders, scrubbing at the paint in his fingernails.

Jughead felt the familiar stab of guilt, he should be the one helping Fred, after everything that man had done for him, not to mention Archie was his best friend, no matter what he got into he knew Archie would always be his true best friend. Shedding his leather Jacket on the couch, Jughead tied his flannel around his waist

“Well we better get to it, he can’t sleep forever.” Jughead stared evenly at Archie, a wide but cautious smile sneaking onto the quarterbacks face.

“Well alright then.”

Two hours later the entire kitchen was painted minus a few casualties (who needed a blender anyway?) and Archie and Jughead had talked, more like spilled their guts like little girls on the schoolyard. Jughead felt better and he could see the way Archie’s shoulders seemed to be a bit higher. Soon Jughead was back on the porch and Archie was promising to pay him in burgers, the familiar voice of Alice Cooper drew his eyes to the house next door.

“That’s it Polly, just a few more steps left. bed rest? I mean really? I don’t see why they couldn’t just induce you right there. This wait is getting tedious. Never the less there will be no moving from you from this point on” Alice Cooper rambled, leading a very pregnant Polly into the house.

“She’s not home.”

Jughead brought his eyes back to Archie, quirking an eyebrow

“Betty’s never really home anymore, only to sleep and cook. She’s the only reason me and my dad are still alive, she makes us dinner everyday. She also stays super late at Vixen practice, hasn’t missed a game, except for the ones against Southside High because… well you know.” Archie rubbed a hand to the back of his neck, Jughead visibly winced.

It had been four weeks since he’d spoken to her, he wasn’t going to let her get dragged into his business with the Serpents and Southside high kept him ridiculously busy. He didn’t want her to be a part of his dangerous and hectic life. But he missed her.. damn did he miss her.

“Other than that she’s pretty much always fixing up F.ps pickup truck in front of Pops where your dad left it broken down. I’m pretty sure the stupid truck runs like a gem now but she can’t seem to stay out of it, always elbow deep in the engine for hours on end.” Archie sighed “everything thing that happened.. her parents, Polly, her long lost brother? And ya know.. my dad.” He whispered the last part “I think she’s coping in.. Well In her own way. That truck is her anchor.”

Archie had grown surprisingly deep, I guess nearly losing your father would do that to you, Jughead would know.

“I better go.” Jughead started backing away, Archie grabbed him by the arm

“You’re my best friend dude but… be careful okay? I don’t know how much more she can take.” Archie’s voice held a warning but the underlying sadness was also evident. They had all been through so much, too much for teenagers their age. With a heavy nod Jughead made his way to Pops.

She was the first thing he saw, well actually the first thing he saw was the huge green pickup truck parked smack dab in the center of the parking lot, Pop Tate was leaning against the door frame watching Betty, his eyes met Jughead and he smiled.

“Hello son, long time no see.” The older man slapped a hand to Jugheads back when he joined him by the door.

“Yeah, couldn’t stay away from your burgers for long.” He smiled back, his eyes drifting back to the pair of blue jeans sticking out from the hood of the truck.

“I was gonna tow it.” Pops said from beside him “takes up half the damn parking lot but when Betty found out it was your dads she begged me to let her fix it up, your old man left the keys in it and everything. Been like this for three weeks. I just don’t have the heart to make her move it.”
With a final squeeze to Jugheads shoulder Pops went inside promising to be back in a moment, he came back through the front door carrying a milkshake in a to go cup.

“I’m trying to stay “hip” I figured If take out is what the kids want I might as well get a foot in the door.“ Pops nudged Jughead towards Betty and headed back inside leaving the two alone as Jughead held the chocolate shake in his hands.

He stared for a moment more, now wasn’t the time to admire her body but god did he miss holding her and there was no denying how good her curves looked in those jeans. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts Jughead moved over to Betty, she was mumbling under her breath as she twisted a wrench over some metal object, completely oblivious to his presence.

“Did you get her running yet?”

Betty nearly slammed her head into the popped hood, her eyes going wide when she saw the dark haired boy speaking to her, her eyes quickly shifted to the leather jacket snug on his shoulders as she dove back into the car.

“She runs just fine, I’ve been working on the engine, all she really needed were a few new spark plugs. But then I noticed it had a little fluid flooding so I wanted to fix that up before it escalated. And then when I turned the Key in the ignition the check engine light came on and that obviously had something to do with the pressure so I…”

Jughead cut Betty off as he placed a hand over hers inside the hood.

“I’m so sorry Betts.” He whispered.

She turned to him with watery eyes.

“I needed you. Where were you? Where have you been?” She questioned, her voice shaky.

He gently pulled her away from the car leaving his milkshake resting on the side

“I got lost for a bit, I’m still lost but it’s getting clearer. I was looking for a home, for some place where I really belonged, but I missed it. It was right in front of me. You’re my home Betts and .. and I want to come home if you’ll have me.” He knew he was begging but in actuality he would have gotten on his knees if she asked.

But this was Betty Cooper and she didn’t need him to beg, didn’t need him to explain, gripping his hand she pulled him back to the truck

“See right here? Once we get this working the mileage will be so much better and ya know, I’ve kind of been wanting to visit Toledo.” She continued fiddling with the truck but the soft smile on her face let him know what maybe.. maybe they would be okay.

“Yeah Betts, Toledo sounds great to me.”

Physical Therapy

Summary: Stiles gets hurt, and discovers that Derek has some special skills.

Notes: AU where nothing bad happens after the nogitsune, and everyone is alive. Set during Stiles’ senior year, he’s 18. (On AO3)


“My elbow is killing me,” Stiles groans from the living room.

“You been jerking it too much?” Scott asks, the leer obvious in his voice.

Derek, grabbing snacks in the kitchen, really wishes he wasn’t hearing this conversation.

“Dude, no,” Stiles huffs. “I was tenderizing a lot of chicken last night.”

Scott laughs. “Isn’t that what I just said?”

Keep reading

Btw if ur dad sucks you can just cancel your crappy dad and share my dad with me, he cooks good Cajun food, has dorky dad fashion, makes stupid dad jokes, knows a lot about history and politics, is Catholic but the lovably goofy liberal type, has many entertaining writer/ journo on the job stories, and when our cat was still alive my dad would always WhatsApp messenger photos of the cat to complain about his latest cat bullshit

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They’re really crazy, and all my siblings- Lemme tell you, it’s like godzilla when i come home and I’m the city, okay? 
My mom is really sweet and a really calm person. I always try and cook with her but in the end I just get my hand smacked with a wooden spoon because I’m terrible at cooking- 
My dad is pretty cool, too. We were a little shaky before, but we’re cool now! I sometimes help him out in the garage when he’s working on cars! Though, I can’t do much but at least I can make terrible puns lol 

Imagine Being homesick

Dean X Reader

“What are you up to?” The comforting voice of your older sister asked from the other end of the telephone. You twirled the wire that connected the phone to the wall around your finger as you smiled.

“Not a lot. I’ve just been working with the boys mostly, you know.” This bar wasn’t as noisy as most and you were grateful for that. It had been a few weeks since you last got to hear your sisters voice. There was an unmistakable cry in the background of the call and you felt your heart swell. “Is that my niece?” You breathed out, smiling bigger than ever as tears came to your eyes.

“Sure is.” She said to you. “She’s growing up so fast. I can hardly believe it..”

“Tell me about it.” You muttered. “It kills me being away for this long. I’ll come see you guys soon, okay? I’ll come see everyone.”

“You’ve been saying that for so long, (Y/n)…” You could hear the disappointment in her voice. “Dad isn’t himself without you. You know how he worries. Not knowing where you are or what you’re out there doing is taking a toll on the man.”

“I know, I know..”

Dean noticed you shifting from one foot to the next and decided to check in.

“Hey, (Y/n), you good?” He leaned against the wall beside you, pool stick in hand.

“Why can’t you just tell us what you’re doing? Is this because you never rebelled as a teenager?” Your sister was starting to speak faster and you knew she was upset. You looked to Dean, nodding a bit to his question as you answered your sister’s.

“No. It’s just easier if I keep this part of my life separate from you guys, you have to understand.” You sighed.

“This part of your life?” She scoffed. “You’re keeping your whole life from us, not just part of it. You’re missing everything. You’ve only held your niece twice. Do you think she’s even going to know who you are by the next time you visit? What about years from now?” You started to cry as your sister went on. You knew she was right with everything she said.

“Woah, woah, hey there.” Dean panicked at the sight of you in tears, wrapping his arm around you.

“I’ll call you soon, okay, sis?” You sniffed. “I love you so much. Give everyone hugs for me.” You hung up before she could respond, turning to burry yourself into Dean’s arms. “I’m so sorry.” You cried.

“Don’t apologize to me, kid.” Dean rubbed your back. “You’re okay.”

“Sometimes I wish I never got into the hunting life.” Your head rested on his chest and you watched all of the bar goers laughing and having a good time. “I miss them.” More tears fell as you thought of your family.

“I know you do. Listen, how about you and I take a trip to your hometown?” Dean pulled you at arms length so he could see your face. “You could see your family, your friends. I’d love to meet them all too.”

“You’d really do that for me?” You let out a breath. “You’d put up with my sisters questions about whether or not we’re an item, my dads terrible jokes, and my moms questionable cooking?” You smiled a bit, wiping away your tears.

“Sounds like a date to me.” Dean smirked pulling you back into him. “We’ll leave tomorrow and get you back home for a few days. Promise.”

Being White-passing and Native in America

I am a white-passing mixed white/native nonbinary individual living in Indiana, USA. I am bisexual and nonbinary. My mother is Eastern Cherokee and white mixed, and my father is white. There are three main federally recognized Cherokee tribes: the Cherokee Nation, the Eastern Band, and the United Keetoowah Band. We are Eastern. 

Daily struggles: Being white passing, people don’t normally know that I’m mixed unless I tell them – and then they don’t believe me when I say so. I feel insecure about reclaiming any part of my culture, due to my white-passing-ness. Cultural appropriation is abundant in America, and it sucks. 

Food: My dad is the cook in the house, so what we eat is mostly influenced by him. But I will say that Native Americans are largely lactose intolerant. It’s a thing. My mom and little sister don’t drink milk, and I’m lactose intolerant too but I drink it anyway.

Holidays: We celebrate Christian/American holidays, for the most part. Yes, even Thanksgiving. We celebrate it at my Cherokee grandma’s house. She has a figurine of a stomp dancer placed in the dining room, and every Thanksgiving she replaces it with a statue of two white pilgrims. I don’t think the white side of my family notices.

Home/Family life/Friendships:

My grandma has all of our heirlooms, papers, and family history concerning our Nativeness kept away somewhere. “Upstairs in a box somewhere” is her verbatim, I think. She’s ashamed of our history, and what we’ve been through, and therefore has never shared anything with us, good or bad. This is cultural assimilation still at work. I am angry that I’ll never know what my family house was; that I had to Google what “tsalagi” means; that slowly, my family history will die out, and it’s not even my grandma’s fault. I understand her. 

My mother is abusive. This is hard to process, because on the one hand, she’s awful to me; but on the other hand, I have a strong desire to connect with my culture and my heritage, and one of the only ways I know how to do this is through her. 

Identity issues: I have considered using the term two-spirit as an identifier for my gender, since I don’t identify strongly with any other term, and it helps me connect with my heritage. However, since I am white-passing, I feel like I don’t deserve this title, and therefore I don’t identify with it.

I also usually don’t use the term “POC” for myself. I’m blonde, for fuck’s sake. I usually just say “mixed” or “part native american” when identifying myself.

Things I’d like to see more of: Natives in love! Natives not doing Stereotypical Native Things©! LGBT Natives! Natives travelling, natives with families and young natives!

Tropes I’m tired of seeing: The Unholy Trinity: native savage, holy savage (spirit man), native princess. Avoid these three tropes, y'all. Thanx

Burger King

When I was younger my brother had an obsession with plain burgers. He didn’t want anything on them, he just wanted a patty with buns.

We go to Burger King and my dad orders a plain burger. (Nothing unusual, we’ve done it before.) They then proceed to serve us a burger with EVERYTHING on it.

We go back through and ask them to correct their mistake to which they agree (and repeat back that we want only a patty on a bun). They then proceed to give us ANOTHER burger with everything on it.

My dad went on to the cooks asking them if they are having a brain fart. This will forever go down in history in my family.