the famous chicken

Father’s Day: A Markiplier Egos One Shot

“It’s called ‘Father’s Day,’” Host explains. “The idea is that it’s a day to honor father’s. It’s really not that complicated.”

“But what do we do?” Wilford asks, stretching out his suspenders and quirking an eyebrow at the Host as they lounge in the library.

“Well, as figments, we don’t actually have a father. We just… exist,” Host says with a shrug. “This day doesn’t really apply to us.”

“Isn’t Ed a father?” Wilford’s face screws up in confusion. “How did that happen?”

Host pauses. “I… don’t know.”

Wilford shrugs and claps his hands together suddenly, startling the Host. “Oh, sorry, Hosty, but hear me out, what if we did something for Mark? He’s kind of like a father to us, right?”

“You have a very skewed definition of what a father is, Will.” Host takes a sip of his coffee and makes a face. It’s gone cold. Conversations with Wilford are not good for hot drinks. “Lewis?” the Host asks softly, and the dragon obliges, breathing a stream of fire towards the cup and heating the liquid inside. “Thank you,” and then back to Wilford, “What would we even do? Grill steaks? Toss around a football? That would be plenty of fun for me.”

Wilford shakes his head. “No, Host. You’re thinking about this all wrong! This is the Markiplier, we’re talking about here.” Wilford playfully nudges the Host. “And we’re the Markiplier Egos. If we’re going to do something…” Wilford’s eyes get very devious. “We’re going to do it our way.”

 

Mark finishes up recording for the day and flops down onto the couch. Chica jumps up, stepping all over him, before settling down beside him, her tail wagging happily. “Hey, bub,” Mark laughs, petting the pupper and feeling the muscles in his shoulders relax. They always get tense after playing horror games.

When he hears the doorbell ring, he assumes it’s one of the gang. Amy or Ethan or someone, but when he checks his phone, which he always neglects to do while recording, none of them have tried to contact him. Mark gently pushes Chica off of him, hops up, and goes to check who’s at the door. To say what he sees surprises him is probably the understatement of the millennium.

Most of the Egos are on his doorstep, arms full of gifts and video games and food. Mark opens the door slowly, poking his head out and trying to give them a convincing smile as he worriedly asks, “Um, hey guys. Wh-what are you doing here?”

“It’s Father’s Day!” Wilford screams in his face, tossing a fistful of glitter at Mark.

“Uh, yeah?” Mark blinks the glitter out of his eyes and surveys the others: Bim, Host, Doc, Silver, and even Google have all shown up for… whatever this is.

“You’re the closest thing we’ve got to a father, so here we are!” Wilford waves his hands in the air, eyes and mouth wide with excitement.

Google steps up. “We have brought gifts of chicken and dumplings from Cracker Barrel, the video games of your liking, and…” Google pauses, looking at the Host. “Host and I designed a little gift for you.”

Mark is baffled. They all stand there for a few more awkward moments before Mark finally snaps back to himself and invites them all inside before the neighbors start to stare. They already think he’s insane. Mark doesn’t want to prove their point. Bim gives Mark a quick hug as he enters, and Mark can’t help but smile. “Ed would’ve come, but he’s with his son, which is… weird. And Dark… well, I don’t guess you’d want him here anyway.”

Mark shakes his head and watches as they all stand around inside like they have no idea what to do. “Um, did you bring enough food for everyone?” Mark asks.

Wilford looks at the single order of chicken and dumplings that he’s holding and makes a face. “Oh, I guess we didn’t think about that.”

“Well, I can’t just eat this all by myself while the rest of you starve,” Mark says, walking towards the kitchen. “Come on, I’ll make some of my world famous chicken and dumps for all of us!”

They spend the next few hours watching Mark make the food—he even lets Wilford debone the chicken which he seems to enjoy way too much—and playing video games afterwards. At the end of the night, Google hands Mark a wrapped box with a sad looking bow on top.

“Silver sat on it,” Google accuses the hero.

“I didn’t mean to! How many times do I have to say that I’m sorry?”

Mark laughs and waves them off. “Guys, you shouldn’t have gotten me anything.” He unwraps the box and opens it to find… another box. “Um…” Mark takes the box out of the box and looks at it carefully.

“Speak to it,” Google says simply, and Mark shrugs. Host smiles to himself and listens carefully for Mark’s reaction.

“Um, hi?” Mark watches in awe as the box blinks open two blue eyes and yawns open a tiny, pink mouth.

“Hi, Mark! I’m your little biscuit, Tiny Box Tim!” Mark almost has a heart attack, and the Egos, after Dr. Iplier assures them that he’s not dying, are very proud of themselves for a successful, if unconventional, Father’s Day.

Torisho, Tokyo

Sure, yakitori tend to get all the buzz in Japan these days, but when it comes to chicken dishes, there are myriad Japanese preparations one can enjoy if you know where to look. And one such place you should be looking is at Torisho in Tokyo…

Torisho is a small restaurant not far from Roppongi that those “in the know” consider one of the city’s best palaces of poultry. Yes, they have yakitori, but that’s just the tip of the iceberg here. It’s cozy, it’s quiet, you usually don’t need a reservations, and their food is as good as it gets. They get their chickens daily from a few specific farms around Japan and only serve limited amounts of a certain number of their most popular dishes, so while they are open late, it’s best to get to Torisho early if you want to feast on their freshest fowl!

Here’s a look…

There’s always a small amuse bouche when you sit down, this night it was fried eggplant and poached chicken breast with umeboshi plum sauce…

One of Torisho’s house specialties, grilled white liver skewers…

Their most popular dish, melt-in-your-mouth foie gras-like chncks of inner chicken goodness painted with a secret sweet glaze…

Their deep-fried chicken karaage, where unlike other standard Japanese preparations, they cut the thigh meat into strips, spice it before frying, and serve with a house-blend curry powder…

Grilled breast meat covered in melted Hokkaido cheese and grated parmesan…

Another of their house specialties, and not for the faint of heart, Torisho’s chicken sashimi platter…

This particular platter is all breast meat, composed of five separate cuts in order to showcase the different tastes and textures of the chicken’s largest part…

To ensure maximum freshness, Torisho uses asabiki (”morning cut”) chickens, which are freshly killed at the crack of dawn in the southern state of Kagoshima then trucked directly to the restaurant before they open each and every day…

You even get a little of the chicken skin, oh so lightly grilled…

Much like you see with seafood sashimi, the chef here makes a succulent soy sauce that’s mixed with raw chicken liver. It’s amazing and if you don’t finish it, keep it to use on your other dishes!

A grilled rice ball and Torisho’s famous chicken soup; literally one of the best chicken soups you will eat anywhere on the planet! Trust me.

The fact that the staff here are all Star Wars fans only adds to my love of Torisho…

Jidori yuuke, which is a type of tartare made from chicken…

With raw thigh meat, a raw egg, chopped scallion and the interesting inclusion of grilled cashews for crunch…

Grilled fava beans, which were in season…

We needed some sort of vegetable… :)

Jidori kazeboshi, which is smoked chicken “jerky”…

Made in-house by hanging strips of chicken from the ceiling…

Then letting the smoke from their binchotan charcoal grill works its magic…

And the coup de grace, Torisho’s renowed oyako donburi

Grilled chicken and fresh eggs, cooked into a loose omelet, served over a bowl of rice… with the skin left on the chicken, which you rarely see, this is one of the best preparations you will find anywhere in Tokyo!

And a closer of chicken soup as it’s just so damn good…

The term “farm to table” gets thrown around so much these days that its lost a lot of meaning, but here at Tokyo’s Torisho, every chicken dish lives up to that label.

TORISHO

Oyama Building B1

3-1-19 Nishi Azabu

Minato-ku, Tokyo

106-0031

Japan

+81-3-5771-4194

pipe dreams

a/n: that’s right, im writing again after a billion years !!!! hope u love it <333

word count: 1,947

summary: nightmares have always plagued alec, but there’s one person who he thinks may be able to chase them away (human!malec au).

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Pregnant (AU Harry)

here’s an imagine I literally wrote like four years ago so it’s bad but I feel bad not updating today and I’m too tired to write one. If you’re new I promise my writing has improved.

“Shit Harry,” James laughed as he stepped back letting Harry cool down.

The sweat ran down Harry’s forehead and he was panting. He wasn’t tired he was angry. He was angry that she had been feeling sick all week. He was angry that she had been working herself so much to help him pay the bills. He was angry that he was causing some of her stress.

“Have you thought about doing this for a living?” James asked, tossing a water bottle towards Harry.

The gym was practically empty; Harry had been there for hours. He was lifting weights, punching the bags, doing anything to get his anger out. He knew she hated it when he came home angry. It made her upset that she wasn’t able to fix it.

“What?” Harry asked, twisting the cap off and drinking the cool refresher.

“I mean take all this energy and put it in the ring for real Harry. You’re good better than some of my other clients,” James tells him, “you’ll make more than you do in that bar.”

“How much more?” Harry asked, he would do anything at this point to make more money.

“Well to begin you will get about five hundred per fight, there are usually about two fights per week. But if you do well and expand and get more sponsors you will get more,” James says, “think about it.”

“No I’ll do it,” Harry says.

James grins, “great, why don’t you stop by tomorrow and I’ll set you up with a manager?”

Harry nods, grabbing his bag and walking out of the gym. When he gets home he’s greeted to the warm scent of cupcakes. He leans against the door where he can see her. She stands, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, her lips pressed in a line as she tries to frost one of them. He can see his plate on the table, he had made his favorite. Her famous chicken and squash spaghetti with spinach, instead of using pasta she replaced it with squash. The first time she made it he was convinced he would hate it, he didn’t think chicken should be that orange nor should she have replaced the pasta and he hated spinach, yet he loved it.

“Hi kitten,” he hummed, walking towards her and pressing a kiss to her cheek. He stood behind her, a hand on her hip as he rested his chin on shoulder.

“Hi,” she sings.

Her hand shaking as she keeps frosting, he could tell something was wrong. For starters she hated baking, it was such a mess and she didn’t like to clean. But the whole apartment was cleaned from top to bottom, something she did when she was anxious. It kept her distracted.

“I made your favorite,” she says softly.

She drops the frosting and sighs, “it’s stupid,” she whispered.

Harry turns her around, “hey now, nothing you do could ever be stupid,” he smiled, “what’s wrong kitten?”

“Nothing,” she lies, her eyes dropping and she rest her head on his chest, “you smell bad,” she says, “how was the gym?”

“Good,” he says, stroking her hair.

She squeals jumping up, “rat!”

The black rat runs across the kitchen floor and she shrieks again, Harry chuckled but without struggling he picks her up and sets her on the small counter. “No don’t kill it,” she pleads.

But before he can handle the rat it’s gone, she hated the apartment. She really did and he knew it. This wasn’t the first rat or bug she had screamed about. She hated having to go out and buy traps, she hated setting them up, she hated the fact that she lived in this dump. But she loved him and it made every other disaster okay.

“We will move,” he says, “one day I promise. I promise you’ll have a real kitchen, a real dining room, a real home.”

“Anywhere is home as long as you’re there,” she smiled at him.

Harry smiled back and walked to the small table a couple of feet away. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“’m just tired,” she mumbled.

“Come here,” he pleads.

She doesn’t hesitate as she sits at the chair next to him. “Kitten, I know you like the back of my hand,” he says, “I know you better than I know myself. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Y/N.”

“You’ll be mad,” she says softly, her eyes look down at her hands as she picks at her jeans.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then I won’t be mad,” Harry promises, setting his hand on hers, “what’s wrong?”

A tear fell from her eye hitting his hand and Harry frowned. His free hand coming up to cup her face, “what’s wrong baby?”

She let out a sob, “that’s it,” she cried.

“What?”

“Baby,” she hiccupped, “I-I’m pregnant.”

Harry froze. He hardly had any money to take her out on a nice date. He could hardly afford buying himself a brand new pair of shoes, “it’s okay,” he forces himself to say, “it’s okay, we will be okay.”

“How!” she sobs, “I have to pay of my loans starting in June a-and we can hardly afford this place as it is.”

Harry wraps her in his arms, holding her tight, “don’t worry about that baby. I will take care of it, James offered me a good job, and I can work more at the bar. We can do this y/n as long as we stay together.”

In Sickness and In Health

Jared Padalecki x Reader

1100 Words

This is for @jared-padaloveme and her JuJu’s Fluffy Birthday Challenge. It’s for prompt #47, Takes care of reader when sick. No warnings, except fluff!


Three years. That’s how long you’ve been acting on the show Supernatural as a guest star. Right alongside your husband Jared, and never once had you been sick. Sure, maybe a sniffle here or there, but nothing that stopped you from doing your work.

Today, when you had woken up, you found yourself cuddled against your husbands bare chest, your head pressed tight into his warm skin, your body curled into a tight ball beside him. That wasn’t unusual, you were always drawn to him, even in sleep. What you noticed right away was the fact that you were freezing, and you couldn’t seem to get close enough to his warmth.

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PARTS UNKNOWN

a play in three acts written with a predictive text emulator

source: all available transcripts of Anthony Bourdain: Parts Unknown

—————

Methodology:

1. Get all transcripts of the show Anthony Bourdain: Parts Unknown from cnn.com.

2. Divide transcripts by character and give them to computer program that uses word sequences in a source text to suggest likely words to continue a sentence, like the predictive text function on a smartphone. The program offers a list of top options and the writer picks one of these.

3. Write Bourdain lines using collection of all lines transcript attributes to BOURDAIN; write Unidentified Male lines using collection of all lines attributed to UNIDENTIFIED MALE; write Unidentified Female lines using collection of all lines attributed to UNIDENTIFIED FEMALE.

4. Arrange lines into play.

5. Write stage directions without machine assistance. Add punctuation.

—————

Act 1

Daytime. A modest kitchen in a distant land. American television personality ANTHONY BOURDAIN hunches over a small, bare table opposite an UNIDENTIFIED MALE and an UNIDENTIFIED FEMALE. Behind them, a cracked window gives onto a vast desert. Bourdain moves his hands animatedly, addressing his hosts with utter confidence.

Bourdain: It’s delicious to be a poet of life. I guess what I’m telling you is, I am famous for my great joys and I would like to eat a big thing of the pig. A big bowl of rice might be worth dying for.

Unidentified Female: We have one food here and it’s very bad for sure. We can get a lot of it for you if you like.

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Plain, White Shirt - Part 2: On

A/N: This is Hotch’s POV of what happened that one Friday night mentioned in Plain, White Shirt (plus one tiny paragraph from the Reader’s perspective in italics towards the end). I have nothing to say other than this is all @imagicana‘s fault. I have sinned and I hope to see you all in hell with us. That’s it :D

Enjoy these 1680~ words. Consider this a little gift for reaching 600 followers! Woop, woop! ;)

Warnings: Smutty Smutterson is in the house; children, please, leave the premises.


Originally posted by profiler-in-training


He could probably count the instances in which he hadn’t been able to physically wait to have sex with someone with the fingers of one hand. It had been years since he felt that kind of… primal need –for lack of a better expression–, something that made his body feel like it was instantly on fire. And he still wasn’t completely sure what had prompted such a reaction out of him.

You two had been sitting, side by side on the couch, with a glass of wine each, trying to unwind after a long day at the office. One of your legs was draped on top of his lap and his free hand was drawing circles on your skin. You had changed out of your work clothes before you started cooking and were only wearing a loose t-shirt and a pair of shorts.

It was probably that domestic aspect –that of him arriving from the office to find that you had already prepared dinner and that all you had to do was wait for it to be done– which tugged at something in his heart despite all the walls he had built around it. It could’ve also been that you hadn’t had the chance to be intimate with each other yet; your jobs keeping you busy enough as it was beside him being a single parent.

So, all of that combined plus the way your pupils kept dilating the higher his hand went up your leg and your little intake of breath once he reached the hem of your shorts and his fingers dared go underneath the thin garment, made him realise that he couldn’t really wait until after dinner.

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anonymous asked:

What would the boys do for a S/O who is sick more times than healthy? More days bedridden than up, almost always running a fever, faints all the time. Just a S/O who is really sickly.

Oooh yup. This is my life so this is gonna be fun to write. Woo!

Noctis would probably not know how to react at first. He has been badly injured and bedridden before, but doesn’t understand how you can snap back easily with a chronic illness. Injuries heal over time, chronic illnesses don’t ease up. His s/o has to remind him from time to time of their limits, which he appreciates. When his s/o is having a relatively bad health day, he stays home with them and watches TV and naps until they are feeling better.

Prompto will by his S/O’s side through it all. Good days and bad days. Even if his s/o’s illness lands them in the hospital, he will be there. He feels horrible for what his s/o has to go through he but sees them as his hero. They’re so brave and strong… he can’t imagine going through what they go through. He’s always looking for homemade remedies to improve his s/o’s symptoms. He with his s/o for every doctor’s appointment.

Gladiolus is constantly worrying about his s/o. He dotes on them. “What do you need? You name it and I’ll get it for you.” He loves his s/o and hates seeing them in pain. Whenever his s/o is having a rough day, he has to fight back the urge to cry. He takes good care of them, however. He carries them where every they need to go. Bathroom? He’ll carry them. Kitchen? He’s got their back. 

Ignis’s busy schedule often restricts him from taking care of his s/o. His s/o understands, but he feels awful about it. He texts and calls them several times throughout the day to see how they are feeling. He also texts them to remind them to take their medications at the appropriate times. When he comes home to his s/o, he run a nice relaxing bath for them and makes some of his famous chicken noodle soup. 

Wait what!?

Summary: Your boyfriend,Matt Murdock tells you that he is the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. Things escalate from there.

Words: 1081

Warnings: language light smut sexual stuffs mentions of violence

A/N: okay so I don’t exactly know how this happened but I mean I like it I guess hopefully you guys do too. Also first time writing smut type stuff so hopefully it’s not too bad but I know it’s not great

Originally posted by nikolajwaldau

“Wait what?” you say in complete shock. You just woke up to your boyfriend Matt Murdock who just told you he was the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

“I’m the Daredevil. The man in black. Responsible for taking down Wilson Fisk.” He stood in front of you in full costume minus the mask.

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Sick As A Cat

Since my other little fic seemed to be kinda popular, I made a little follow up to it. Sequel to this. Enjoy! I’m Miraculous Trash

“Ugh, this is just too unbearable Alya!” moaned Marinette to her friend as they made their way home from school.

“I don’t see why you’re complaining,” commented Alya. “You’ve already had the flu, the worst is over for you. In fact, I’m pretty sure you’re the one who spread the thing.”

“Oh yeah? Well if that’s true how come you’re not sick then?”

“Girl, please. My family is huge, I’m practically immune to germs. No flu would dare try and get close to me.”

“Fair enough,” said Marinette with a sigh. “At least I have you, but Adrien hasn’t been at school all week!”

“I know it’s a shame,” mocked Alya as she checked her phone. “You might actually pay attention in class.”

“Oh ha ha, very funny,” said Marinette, rolling her eyes. “But it’s not just about not seeing him. When I had the flu, I was miserable. But I at least had my mom and dad to take care of me, I feel like Adrien doesn’t really have that.”

She failed to mention she also had Chat Noir looking after her, spoon feeding her soup and fluffing her pillows, but she had chalked the whole ordeal up to a fever dream. She hadn’t asked Tikki about it and Tikki hadn’t brought it up.

Alya’s face lightened at her friend’s sincerity. “Ah girl, that’s too sweet,” she said. “Ya know, I bet he’d really love some of your famous homemade chicken soup. Especially with that fancy sweet bread.”

“You’re right Alya!” said Marinette happily. “I’m gonna go home and get started. You’re the best!”

She shot off like a rocket towards her house, utterly determined. Alya couldn’t help but laugh. “Save me some of the sweet bread!” she shouted after her. “It was my idea, and you know it’s my favorite!”

-

“Oh Tikki, it’s perfect!” mused Marinette as she looked at her finished creation. She had truly outdone herself. In addition to making her famous soup and her mother’s signature sweet bread, she had packed the whole thing into personalized basket she had designed herself. She carefully wrapped the food so it would stay warm, and then decorated that packaging as well.

“I gotta say, Marinette, it looks as good as it smells!” chimed in Tikki. “And if it tastes half as good, it’ll probably be the best thing he’s ever eaten.”

She couldn’t help but blush. “Oh, no way. I mean he probably eats at super fancy restaurants all the time, I mean this is just something small, I mean-.”

“Marinette, stop! He’s gonna love it!”

Marinette was undoubtedly a hyperactive mixture of excitement and nerves.  Tikki made sure that she signed her name and placed it visibly in the basket so the past would not be repeating itself. She gathered her creation in her arms and prepared to venture towards Adrien’s house. She had one foot out the door when suddenly-

“Where’s Ladybug?!” cried a panicked citizen as it ran past the bakery, several more following. Marinette managed to stop one to ask what all the fuss was about, apparently a disgruntled city hall employee was wreaking havoc, something about sucking the fun out of everything.

Great. The last thing she needed right now was an akuma attack. Hopefully, Chat Noir was already on the scene and the whole ordeal would be over quickly.

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They Don’t Like Me - Conor Maynard

Masterlist

-

So you know the classic ‘Meeting his parents’ stories? God I do. And that they all end in the same way. They like you after you fitting that they won’t well. That didn’t work out for me.

I giggled at Conor as I kissed his lips for a second then pulled away just to go back again for another second. “Y/n my parent’s are coming soon.” Conor whined as I still kissed him. I giggled at him again and looked up into his beautiful blue eyes. “They’ll like me right Con?” I asked as my eye sparkled. “Of course why wouldn’t they?” Conor asked confused. “Because of my past.” I sighed.

“Don’t worry love. They’ll love you.” He whispered kissing me but then got up and out of bed. I frowned at him. “I think you should get changed into the adorable dress I met you in and meet me in the kitchen.” Conor said with his hand on the door knob. “Okay.” I smiled at him. He returned my smile and left our shared me.

I got up and went into our shared closet and grabbed the dress Conor was talking about. Me and Conor have been living with each other for little over a year now and have been dating for little over two years. One a year and a half we kept our relationship a secret in till his younger brother found up cuddling well sleeping in Conor’s old bed.

I changed into the beautiful sundress and fixed my h/c hair show it layed on my shoulders and fixed my makeup. After finishing I walked out of our room and into the kitchen where Conor was trying to cook. “What are you cooking?” I asked as I walked up being him wrapping my arms around his waist and laid my head on his back.

“Your famous food.” He replied turning around to look at me. “Your going to make my famous chicken?” I asked. He nodded and smiled. “Conor I’m just not even going to ask.” I giggled at him. “They should be here any minute. They are going to stay till after dinner. I also got pie yesterday.” He explained. I stiffed up as he mentioned the pie.

“That was for today?” I asked embarrassed. “Did you eat it?” He asked with seriousness on his voice. I looked at up him and nodded. “I’m sorry but it was tempting me to eat it.” I pointed out frowning. He sighed. “It was saying stuff like ‘Y/n eat me, I want to be in your stomach’ bla bla.” I explained. He chuckled at me and kissed my forehead.

“Go out and get another one okay love?” He asked. i nodded and smiled up at him. “I’ll make sure to buy two.” I smiled. He returned my smiled and kissed my cheek after kissing my lips. “See you soon.” I sung as I grabbed the keys to Conor’s car and left as he said a quickly bye and love you.

I made it too the store and went in to find the pies to be stopped by all the cookies. I looked at the price and said fut it and put it in the cart. I walked over to the pies and picked up to apple pies but then I picked up one of the other flavors. I looked over and saw donuts and mentally died in my head.

I grabbed maybe two dozen. I have a problem. I grabbed some other things and made it to the check out and blushed at the person who was looking at me. I had a bunch of junk food and a tampons.I quickly got out of the shop and loaded it into Conor’s car and made my way back to our apartment.

As I made it to the garage I called Conor. “Hey baby.” He replied once he answered. “Hey, can you come help me I may or may have not bought a lot of pies. And um donuts. And um cookies and tampons.” I explained. I heard Conor chuckled. “Sure baby anything.” He replied and hung up after saying be there soon.

I got out of the car and opened the trunk and grabbed as many bags as I could as Conor came in about time and grabbed the rest. “Let me guess were having a fat night.” He asked chuckling. I nodded as he closed the trunk and locked the car. “Oh well you were out my parent’s and Anna showed up. She’s excited to meet you.” Conor explained pushing the up arrow on the elevator. 

“I hope she likes me as well.” I laughed as we got on to the elevator. “She will don’t worry. She’s been dying for another girl friend.” He laughed as we reached our floor. we walked out onto the floor and walked to our door which happened to be a walk. Once there Conor opened the door and we both walked in. 

“We’re back.” Conor called out as his family look over. I smiled at them and said a quick hello before going to the kitchen to unpack the food and junk. “Babe did you put a timer on for the chicken?” I asked looking over at the stove then him.

“I thought you just threw it in?” Conor questioned. I shook my head and chuckled. “That’s because I remember things. You don’t.” I said opening the oven door to look at them. “Sorry princess.” Conor replied frowning. “Don’t sweat it big baby.” I chuckled throwing the brown bags away.

We both walked into the living room and Conor introduced us and before we knew it Diner was done. I sat next to Conor and Anna as his parents sat across. Conor at the head. Everyone was talking and I was just picking at my food. “Conor did you make this?” His father asked. “Yes, but no. It’s actually Y/ns recipe but I tried to make it.” Conor smiled. “It’s good son.” He replied. I smiled at Conor and looked at his parents who were unimpressed with me well Anna seemed to love me.

After eating dinner me and Conor cut up one of the pies and served it. “Sorry that Y/n wasn’t here when you first came. She ate the pie I bought yesterday and had to get a new one Conor explained. I chuckled a bit along with Anna. “Seems like she would.” His father commented. I nearly chocked on my food.

“Excuse me?” I asked confused. “Seems like you would.” His dad repeated. He didn’t like me. Neither did his mom. “Dad why would you say that?” Conor asked confused hurt. “Have you seen her? She’s overweight.” His mom brought in. “Excuse me.” I replied quietly getting up leaving the table and walked into our shared room and fell onto the bed and cried.

I laid in there for what seemed like hours but was only five minutes before Conor came in and pulled me closer to him. “Don’t listen to the baby.” He whispered in my ear. “They hate me Conor.” I cried. Conor sighed and nodded. “They do, but that doesn’t matter because I love you. Also Jack and Anna. But mostly me. We love you.” He said kissing my cheek.

I sniffled my nose and smiled. “I love you to Conor.” I said before he kissed my lips. “Do you want to eat those pies now since they left?” He asked. “Is that even a question.” I giggled wiping my tears. Conor chuckled at me and left to get the pies.

Taking care of Bones

Leonard has been busy taking care of you and everyone else on the Enterprise for the past couple of weeks. Its time that someone makes sure hes taking care of himself.

Very first Imagine fic, actually very first fic in general. Be gentle. I am a delicate flower.

1,647 word(s) of fluffy goodness.

obligatory tags:

@outside-the-government @fandomheadrush @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse @imoutofmyvulcanmind

You were lying on the couch half asleep when you heard the door to your quarters quietly swish open. You heard the all too familiar shuffling of boots heading toward the couch.

“Hey darlin’” Leonard said quietly. You could hear the tiredness dripping off of him in waves just from those two words.

“Hey Len… another rough day at the office”? you replied. Leonard chuckled softly

“You could say that. Seems like everyone on the ship decided to hurt themselves today”. He replied as he grabbed your legs and put them on his lap. He gently laid his head back against the couch.

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Reposting with the ficlet I wrote to go with it!  Thanks to @virgidearie for doing the manip. 


Despite the admitted silliness of the sign outside, the Cheese Haus in the town of Frankenmuth, Michigan had more than lived up to its name, boasting over 100 varieties of cheese as well as an array of other products. Belle was especially pleased with its special chocolate cheese and the multi-coloured Superman fudge that she’d bought for Henry, and Rumple had amused himself buying a bag of alligator jerky, joking that he’d been called “Crocodile” often enough. He’d even bought a cookbook for Granny, smirking, and Belle didn’t have to ask why – the older woman would be sure that Rumplestiltskin was implying that she needed to learn some new recipes. Which, Belle admitted to herself as she leafed through the book as they ate an impromptu lunch of cheese and crackers and sausage, she wouldn’t mind trying. The diner’s burgers were perfect, but some variety on the menu would be nice.

“What next?” Rumplestiltskin asked afterwards as they packed their purchases into the Cadillac’s trunk, the many half-timbered buildings around them reminding him of a town in the Enchanted Forest.

“The Christmas shop,” Belle said eagerly, pulling out her travel brochure. “It’s the world’s largest, covering 2.2. acres.”

Rumplestiltskin had no problem with putting up a fresh-smelling tree for the holidays, or some tasteful white lights, but over two acres of decorations sounded…worrisome. “Just don’t buy any of those tacky inflatable things to put out front,” he begged.

Belle pouted. “I thought the polar bear in front of the pizza place was cute. Besides, this is Gideon’s first Christmas. We have to get something special.”

Of one accord, they glanced down at their son in his stroller as they entered the store. Gideon’s eyes went wide, and his head started swiveling in all directions, including up towards the ceiling, trying to take in everything.

“Wow,” said Belle. “Better keep an eye on Gideon; we don’t want him reaching out to grab some shiny bauble and breaking it.”

“Here, let me take the stroller,” Rumplestiltskin said. “You go ahead and we’ll follow you.”

They emerged from the store nearly two hours later, Gideon clutching a light-up plastic penguin as big as he was that he had made quite clear he wanted. A personalised stocking for him, several ornaments, and some strings of bubble lights completed their haul. Belle thought that she had restrained herself admirably. They overcame Gideon’s protest at having to let go of the penguin by holding him up so that he could see it in the trunk and wave bye-bye to it for now.

“Dinner next?” Rumplestiltskin asked hopefully.

“Dinner next,” Belle agreed, looking forward to the famous chicken dinner touted by the Bavarian Inn, where they were lodging for the night.

She would mention the gift shops on the Inn’s lower level after they had eaten.