six fifteen

don’t keep it all together. [linstead oneshot.]

- Hey guys! Sorry it’s been awhile, I needed to make sure this one did the prompt I received justice. Thank you @snufflesandfluff for the idea and I sincerely hope you all enjoy and let me know what you think! (Jay tries to deal with PTSD while Erin is in New York.)

[there’s mention of death and injuries from war so just a fair warning it’s kind of dark!]

She’d been gone three weeks now. Three weeks in the Big Apple with her nice new, hopefully cushy job and with her hopefully kind and welcoming boss and with her hopefully significantly larger paycheck.

He wanted the absolute best for her, he did. There wasn’t a doubt in his head that he did but there was that nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach that he needed her to come back, because the nights were getting longer and darker and his sleep was getting to be less and less and the only thing that could bring him any semblance of comfort anymore was a bottle of alcohol when it used to be her hands and her lips and her tongue and he seemed to be going backwards in all the progress that he had made in going to therapy and in talking to other struggling soldiers and he really, really hated himself for that.

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8

Fifteen-hundred people went into the sea, when Titanic sank from under us. There were twenty boats floating nearby.. and only one came back. One. Six were saved from the water, myself included. Six.. out of fifteen-hundred. Afterward, the seven-hundred people in the boats had nothing to do but wait. Wait to die,  wait to live, wait for an absolution  that would never come.

Perfect Ten

Summary:  Just like his freckles and bowlegs, Dean’s slight pudge has always been a part of himself that he’s never felt completely comfortable with.  After a few miserable days of unsuccessful dieting and choking down rabbit food, Cas reminds him exactly how beautiful he is.   


“You’re getting kinda chubby!”  

Charlie makes this remark lightly, offhandedly, as she passes by Dean on the way to breakfast that morning:  Dean had been stretching his arms overhead in a yawn so that his cotton shirt rode up over his stomach, which Charlie takes the opportunity to poke.

Startled, he looks down just in time to see the disconcerting way in which her fingertip sort of smushes into the soft, freckly flesh.  

Dean halts in his tracks, blinking comprehensively.  “Wait, what?”  is all he can think to say.

Charlie, who’d been nonchalantly continuing on her way down the hall, turns to look at him.  “Well, you don’t have to sound so offended about it,” she laughs.  “I didn’t mean it in a bad way or anything!”

Dean folds his arms defensively.  “Then what did you mean, Charles?”

“First of all, I answer only to Charlie, Ms. Bradbury, or the Illustrious Queen of Moondoor.  Next, I just meant you put on a couple pounds.  Maybe getting a bit of a tummy.  It’s no big deal.”

Dean looks comprehensively down at his stomach.  Now that he thinks about it, he has been eating more these days – he’s been going through sort of a “nesting period” during his relationship with Cas:  lots of baking pies, burgers, etc.  He didn’t think it was noticeable.  

Taking note of the gravity of his expression, Charlie laughs, punching him lightly in the shoulder.  “You don’t have to look so glum about it!  It’s cute.”

Dean glowers at her, tugging self consciously at his t-shirt.  “M’not cute,” he mutters grouchily.  “I’m a warrior.

Charlie laughs again.  “Alright, warrior.  Hurry up and take care of your morning breath – Kevin’s making waffles again!”

With that, Charlie skips off down the hall, leaving Dean to steep in his juices.  He lets Charlie laugh it off, of course – he knows she didn’t mean any harm – but the fact is, Dean’s always known he’s had a little bit of pudge around his midsection, and he’s always been the slightest bit insecure about it.  Just like his freckles and bowlegs, it’s one of the things about himself that he’s never particularly liked.  

His one solace was convincing himself that these features weren’t as noticeable to everyone else as they are to him.  Now, that seems to have changed.  

Dean pulls up the rim of his shirt, noting sourly the way in which his pudge protrudes slightly over the waistband of his pajama pants.

Suddenly he doesn’t feel so hungry anymore.

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4

Fifteen hundred people went into the sea when Titanic sank from under us. There were twenty boats floating nearby and only one came back one. Six were saved from the water, myself included. Six out of fifteen hundred. Afterward the seven hundred people in the boats had nothing to do but wait. Wait to die. Wait to live. Wait for an absolution that would never come.

I Want It Fast, I Want It Loud, I Want It My Way

a/n: THIS PICTURE FUCK. i’ve rode many of things in my lifetime. ;-) just not a thigh, so this might not be accurate but heyyyyyyyyy it’s fine. and if we’re gonna be honest here, how many of y'all actually even rode a dick? let alone a thigh hahaha.  love y'all :-) (smut warning obviously) 


I’m tired. I can feel the familiar ache in my body. I want nothing more than to go home and sleep for hours on end with no interruption. “C'mon, love, lets go.” I whine into Harry’s ear. His arm that is wrapped around my hip tightens, “okay, hold on.” He absentmindedly replies. I huff out. I don’t want to hold on. What the hell am I supposed to hold on to anyways? I notice a chair on the other side of the room and I instinctively follow to it. 

 When I am seated, I rest my head against the wall and close my eyes. “Alright, up you get. It’s time to go, yeah?” Harry awakes me from my quick nap, a whine slips from my lips as I’m placed on my feet. “No.” Harry chuckles lowly as he bends down and urges me to get on my back. A sleepy smile etches on my face as I climb onto him. He stands up with ease. My head falls onto his shoulder as I fall asleep with Harry’s scent lingering around me. 

 * 

 It’s hot. I can feel sweat seeping through my shirt. 

My eyes open and adjust to the darkness. The clock reads three-thirty A.M., I can hear Harry’s breathing next to me. It’s relaxing. His arms are pulled under his pillow as he lies his head on it, curly hair flopping over. His mouth is slightly ajar, and I can’t help but look at his lips. They are such a nice shape, they’re so pink and full. The shirt I have on is soaked through with sweat as I peel it off my scorching body. The cool air soothes my skin and I sigh with relief. 

With my head back onto my pillow, I continue to stare at sleeping Harry. How can one human have so much beauty to them? Not just his looks either, he has a beautiful soul as well. My eyes skim back to his lips. God, his lips. If only they were kissing me right now. Down my neck, onto my collar bone. Biting and nipping, leaving a hickey in its place. 

 I play with the idea of waking him up just to do that, but he needs his sleep. When I make up my mind to be a good girlfriend, I groan and roll over. I hate that I’m a good person sometimes. My head is still spinning with the thought of Harry kissing me all over as I close my eyes and try to sleep. Minutes pass before I huff out and grab my phone. 

Looks like I’m not going to be sleeping tonight. One perk of having a famous boyfriend is that I can look up smut about him and totally try it the next time we have sex. And that’s what I do. I head over to my Tumblr app and type in “Harry Styles smut”. The first thing that pops up is an ask. The ask reads “OKAY but imagine riding harry’s thigh i Am HURT. You would grind down on him and it would hit your clit just right and his hands would leave marks on your hips and he could feel you soaking through his jeans, and he just gets off to you getting off FUCK”. 

 Okay what in the hell is thigh riding and why am I so wet now? My mind starts racing after smut with thigh riding involved. I’ve never heard of thigh riding, but I’m already liking it. I stay up a few more minutes, maybe hours, who really knows? Looking at smut that includes thigh riding. I’m aching for the feeling of it right now. My internal conflict is raging inside me and I think I have to wake Harry. The sleeping boy next to me looks so peaceful. How could I wake him up just to ride his thigh? I can feel myself pulsing for this feeling. “Fuck.” I groan out, I can’t wait any longer. My hand starts to shake his sleeping body, “Harry.” All he does is let out a soft groan. This is going to be harder than I thought. With a swift pull from the covers, both of our bodies are uncovered. 

Harry is naked from his hips up and he looks fucking great. The tattoos sprawled across his toned body never looked so appealing in my life. I want to run my tongue over everyone of them. Black  shorts that were around my hips fall off with a swift motion from my arms, my underwear following. Fire is in my veins. Harry visibly shutters from the loss of the covers but I climb on top of him to bring him warmth.

 "Y/N?“ He mutters, his voice raspier and deeper from sleep. Fuck, I’m literally dripping for this green eyed man. “Baby, I want to try something..” I say while unleashing kisses to his jaw and neck. “At-” He stops to check the time, “5:47 in the morning?” Huh, guess I was looking at smut longer than I thought. “Yes baby, please, I’m literally dripping for you. Plus, you have to get up an hour anyways for work.” I moan out, I can already feel his erection through his pajama pants. “Well if you insist.” He smirks. “What did you want to try?” He sits up holding me in his lap. My legs are by each of his hips and his large hands are roaming my back, hips, and thighs. “Well it’s kinda weird, but I really want to try it.” I tug my lip into my teeth, nervously awaiting his response. “Yeah? What’s it then love?” “Well- I- just- let me show you. Take off your pants.” I instruct with a shaky voice, he obliges as he lifts me off his lap. He is left in his tight boxer briefs. 

I manage to mount back onto his lap, positioning myself over his left thigh. “What’re you doing babe?” Harry asks me with puzzlement in his eyes. “Just..” I moan out as I begin to move hips on his lap. The contact of my clit to his thin boxers form incoherent moans. Harry’s hands move to my hips, gripping them. “Oh so you like thigh riding, huh?” Harry’s voice is like gravel on a road sending me to move faster as his hands insinuate rapid movements. My head nods feverishly as he moves me faster. I feel his lips attach to my breasts, sucking lightly. 

Curls are in my hands as I rock back and forth in his thigh. Cotton boxers against my clit work expertly together with the collaboration of my movements and Harry’s lips. Pleasure is racing through me leaving a beating heart and restless moans. Thoughts are construed in my mind as I try to piece together all the overwhelming things that are enveloping around me. Fuck, I’m so close. “Harry…” I moan out and he gets the hint. His inked hands grip my love handles tighter and my moves pick up pace as we move with the rhythm of an imaginary tempo. “Come for me.” Harry barely whispers in my ear as he adds a nibble to my ear lobe and before I can stop myself, I am sent over the top. An orgasm rattles through me with blacked out vision and shaking hands. Spearmint surrounds me as my head collapses into Harry'a shoulder. “I didn’t know you were into that.” Harry’s voice flows out to me and I laugh, “Yeah I didn’t either.” The clock now reads six-fifteen. 

Before Harry can react, I roll off of him and fall into my spot on our bed. The covers are pulled up over me, I hum in response. “Get some sleep, my angel.” Are words I hear before I drift off.

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AU. Lance and Keith get stuck in an elevator - no phones, no one to come for hours yet, and Lance’s claustrophobia… this can only end in disaster.

or, that one au i hijacked from @yaxxm​. sorry.


Two hours of being stuck in an elevator with Keith fucking Kogane was, quite possibly, the worst thing that had ever happened to Lance.

It definitely wasn’t great first date material – not that this was a date, of course, but still.

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3

About Ted’s first escape on June 07, 1977 :

Bundy arrived for a hearing on his motions (He wanted the Utah case suppressed as evidence in the murder trial, the suppression hearing closed and the death penalty ruled unconstitutional). After a 10:30 recess, he was left alone for a few minutes. Bundy paused for a moment by a second-story window and then jumped. Walking so he wouldn’t draw attention, Bundy ambled four blocks to the Roaring Fork River. Diving under a bush, he pulled off his turtleneck sweater, changed the part in his hair and then headed back through the center of town. He reached the tree line in fifteen minutes.

For six days, deputies, dogs and helicopters searched for Ted Bundy. Spending the night in the rain, Bundy broke into an empty cabin on Conundrum Creek. He stayed there for twenty-four hours, wolfing down a can of tomato sauce and a box of brown sugar. The morning of the third day, he grabbed a .22 rifle out of the cabin and headed up the creek, hoping to cross the Continental Divide. He took a wrong turn and stumble back to the cabin with a sprained ankle the following evening, passing a civilian armed with a rifle.

I’m looking for Ted Bundy,” the man with the rifle said.

Good luck,” Bundy said.

Discovering that the searchers had been in the cabin, he slept in the brush. Cutting north, he crossed a golf course and found a Cadillac with the keys in the ignition.

Bundy was pulled over as he tried to slip out of the county. A Band-Aid plastered on his nose and a hat pulled low over his eyes, Bundy ducked behind the steering wheel.

Hi, Ted,” Deputy Gene Flatt said.

Welcome home, Ted” Sheriff Ken Keinsat said when Bundy arrived back at the jail.

Thank you,” Bundy said. - Rolling Stone, December 14, 1978

Genesis [teaser]

Originally posted by imjaeboms


The first time you found yourself with Jaebum between your legs it wasn’t really sexual - but the thought had crossed both of your minds. A game of twister gone wrong with his foot slid a bit too far green knocking you off your spot and onto your back, somehow he’d managed to fall because of it nearly crushing you in the process but somehow he’d caught himself. When his eyes met yours, you and everyone else in the room could cut the tension with a dull blade. A cough woke you both from your intense stares causing you both moved as if nothing had happened - and that’s how the night went.  At least till you found yourself pressed to the door in the bathroom with his hand down your shorts, sighs and gasps escaping your lips as he stared down at you with a crooked smirk as he did his best to bring you pleasure. Suddenly the shorts were gone, and so were his jeans it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out where this was going, of all the nights you’d decided not to wear underwear - this had to be the best.

His lips smashed against yours, moans and whimpers erupting from you but he swallowed each one as if it were his favorite meal. Eliciting them from you as if he’d been doing it for years, his hands grasped the back of your thighs lifting you onto the bathroom sink, he kept you towards the edge and before you knew it he had your head tilted back as you moaned for him to thrust harder - but he obliged. When your release came he crashed his mouth back onto yours, his hands seeking purchase on your hips as he drove towards his own release. The sensitivity was almost too much and right as he relished in his orgasm you had your third of the night. Feeling the heat spread inside of you had sent you over the edge, and his moans were louder than yours had been when you pulsed around him. You looked over his features as you caught your breath - his hair sticking to his forehead as he panted, he pulled you close to him resting his head against yours.

“We should do this again,” he whispered softly, and you agreed - because you’d be damned if you turned down sex that good.

Finding out from Mark that they were able to stay a bit longer than they had anticipated had been everything that you could have dreamed of, every night he snuck into your room and every night you let him have his way with you - in whatever position he wanted. Four. Five. Six… turned to fifteen - then on the morning of the sixteenth he had to leave and it was like a summer romance had ended. He didn’t leave without a goodbye, he pressed his lips to yours with a ferocity you’d only ever heard of in movies, and he whispered something you couldn’t hear but you swore you saw tears form in his eyes.

That night you cried for two hours before settling in to sleep - but your life was only about to get harder.

You just didn’t know it yet.

Just One Word BPC - March

Day 1 - Travelling

The struggles of being a bookworm and going travelling…

Title: Incandescent | Chapter One

Rated: T (language/violence)

Summary: There are monsters in the word. Demons that crawl from the blackest pits and breach the Earth, murdering and feasting on the bones of humans. Lucy has spent her entire life training to fight the skeletons in her closet. Natsu has spent his life running from them. Unfortunate circumstances find the pair of them at Saint Katherine’s Academy, a school of black magic and demons. (Monster Hunter!AU)

Word Count: 3072

FF.net |


The air smells of musk and sweat and beneath that something sharper—something metallic that rests heavy in the room, coating her tongue and leaving a bitter taste in its wake. Lucy grimaces as the smell hits her, nearly recoiling at how pungent it is. She catches herself quickly, steeling her features and continuing into the crowded room, unimpressed with the flickering lights and water-stained ceiling of the abandoned warehouse. She steps in a puddle of what she hopes is water, eyeing the liquid with distaste before shaking off her boot.

She glances towards the group crowding the middle of the room, forming a large ring around a pair of fighters in the center, cheering and screaming as the men beat each other. According to the large screen overhead, one is called Bora of Prominence, and Lucy recognizes the tattoo above his eye from the flier she was given previously this week. The other fighter is simply called Jackal, and Lucy doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to forget the smile on his face as he draws blood.

Jackal lands a heavy blow across Bora’s face, sending the man crashing to the floor. The crowd swallows him from sight and Jackal throws his head back and laughs, the sound drowned by the heavy beat of music flooding through the overhead speakers. There’s something in Jackal’s eyes that she doesn’t like, amusement or maybe mirth, some twisted joy at seeing some bleed and hearing bones break.

Sneering, Lucy turns away, instead heading for the staircase off to the right, leading up the balcony overlooking the fights on three sides of the room, the front wall left bare. The music will be louder, she thinks, enough to give her a headache for days, but the view will be better. She’s in no mood to fight through a screaming crowd just to watch a couple of men fight like dogs. If she wanted to watch people kill each other, she would have gone with Laxus to speak with Hades. No matter. Lucy didn’t come here to listen to the fighters and the crowds scream. She came to recruit.

There have been whispers lately, rumors, and she intends to find out just how true they are.

Her foot touches down on iron, and the entire set of stairs quivers violently, trembling beneath her slight weight. She scoffs, glancing down at the rust beneath her dark boots and wondering if a fall from the top would kill her or merely leave her broken. Perhaps, a bit of both. Shaking the thought away, Lucy takes another step, one hand on the railing beside her. The metal is cool against her fingers, left uncovered by her ratty gloves stretched over her palms.

It’s not the building she needs to watch out for at this point, it’s the people—the monsters. A tall man built like a wall passes by her, heading for the ground floor, and Lucy thinks he might be one of the night’s fighters, a man named Ezel that she saw briefly on the roster. His gaze rests heavy on her form, as she walks by, and Lucy clenches her jaw until she feels his eyes leave her frame. Her gun weighs heavy against her hip, a constant reminder of what lurks in the shadows, watching—hunting. Men. Animals. Monsters.

With her luck, all three.

Halfway up the stairs, Lucy freezes, her steps faltering as her grip tightens on the railing, her knuckles turning a stark white as her muscles tense. Pausing, Lucy breathes in heavily through her nose, searching for the phantom scent that seems to have disappeared as quickly as it came. She finds it again a moment later, the smell suffocating her, slithering down her throat and curling through her lungs, thick and dark and bitter. Sulfur floods her senses, choking her and resting thick on her tongue.

Lucy’s lips pull back over her teeth and she snarls, casting a quick glance around the room for anything suspicious. Nothing. Her fingers itch to grab her gun, but the smell is faint, days old, so she forces herself to relax, knowing better than to work herself up over nothing. Besides, it’s not a demon she’s looking for.

It’s a Dragon.

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snorlaxlovesme  asked:

soma and 20! (things you said that i wasn't meant to hear)

He was not eavesdropping. God help him, he wants to make that perfectly clear.

Maka breaks her arm after a mission, her body a war-zone in itself, bruises spattering pale skin, her lip splits down the middle, giving her a wounded puppy look. He takes the dutiful place of healthy Weapon, he gets prescriptions from pharmacies, he gets ice packs from the the corner store where the Mummy always looks likes he’s judging Soul, and he leaves the apartment at six am when she’s whimpering for ice pops. (She refuses to call them otter pops. He refuses to acknowledge her first four requests.).

Soul does as she asks, because he’s guilty, after all, he’s protected in battle by demon steel and black blood.

So he’s awake, six fucking fifteen in the damn morning, hauling watered down ice pops into the kitchen. He pulls two green ones and a pink out while he shoves the rest of them into their already straining freezer.

“Hey, Mama.” He can hear Maka vaguely, and he freezes, first in genuine surprise, then in morbid curiosity. Soul is not known for his ability to keep things in order, so he doesn’t know how long its actually been since the elusive Mother Albarn has contacted her child. “Yeah, there’s a couple broken bones. But I’m okay!!”

Bah fucking humbug she’s okay. This isn’t Maka’s first broken bone rodeo, but she is moving around slower than usual, and she’s not her best self right now. “No, I’m taking care of myself, promise. Soul has been helping me out a bunch.”

Wait, Soul? Since when did he evolve from My Weapon to first name basis with the God of Meisters (or maybe just his). This was news to him! “Of course he’s on top of things. He’s been really helpful you know? No! Don’t even-”

He is in front of her door, he doesn’t even remember walking over there but here he is…right in the Danger Zone. God help and Forgive him, he needs to know about this conversation. “Mama, stop. It’s not like that!”

What isn’t like that?! Damn it all he’s can do not burst through that door and begging her to own up to whatever is it!

“…he doesn’t like me like I like him.”

Shitting Hell, his heart stops, the color drains from his face. He needs every ounce of willpower to keep from busting in there, and planting a kiss on her lips. He retreats back to the kitchen, organizing her otter pops into a more orderly situation.

When she calls for him a few moments later, he goes to her, fistful of pink otter pops with him.

I Am You, You Are Me || Soulmate!Soonyoung || Oneshot

Originally posted by visual-17

GENRE: fluff, soulmate!au, non-famous, convenience stores, college kids

WORDS: 3413

BLURB: Are ugly sweaters a trend nowadays?

A/N: Obviously heavily inspired by Zico’s song of the same name. Have been wanting to finish this for FOREVER, and finally! It’s also my first gender-neutrel fic so please go easy on me. Hope you guys like :)


“Hyung! Could you get me some ramen from the convenience store?”

“Why can’t you get it yourself?”

Chan swivelled in his chair to face the older boy, pouting slightly. “I’m studying! And it’s cold outside. These finals are really important, you know this! What if I catch a cold out there?”

A loud sigh came from the couch where Soonyoung was laying on. “Then eat the ramen we have! Mingyu just went grocery shopping yesterday.”

“But I want my favourite…” The younger boy was petulant and Soonyoung found himself sighing again, sitting up to face his favourite dongsaeng. The kid looked exhausted – what he needed was sleep, not ramen – but one look at that pout and Soonyoung was slowly standing up, though not without a bit of groaning and feigned reluctance.

“You’re lucky I love you kid,” Soonyoung muttered, searching for a sweater and his keys. Chan’s lips quirked up into a grin. “Thanks hyung. You’re the best.”

“Yeah yeah.” Soonyoung wandered into his room and grabbed the first thing off the floor, pulling it over his head. When he walked out Chan was scrunching his nose at him.

“What?”

“You’re wearing that?” the younger boy asked with disdain.

“What? It’s comfy!”

“It’s ugly.”

“It’s late. No one’s going to look at what I’m wearing.”

“But–”

“Do you want your ramen or not?” Soonyoung threatened. Chan just shrugged, turning back to his work. “Do whatever you want hyung. I’m just saying you never know when you’ll bump into your soulmate and I doubt you want to be caught in that ugly sweater.”

Soonyoung just rolled his eyes and left the dorm. Instantly, a cold whip of air hit him. Ugly or not, he’d rather be warm in the thick sweater than freeze to death trying to make a good impression, soulmate be damned.

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Tama’s Tea Shop is a cute little place. Warm colors, nice smells, welcoming staff. To the average customer, it looks as sweet as their cinnamon-rose blend. But under the soft surface is a finely-tuned machine run with military efficiency.

At six every morning, the Iron Bull opens the blinds, dusts everything, and gets ready for the day. At six-fifteen, Tama comes in and dusts everything again, then brews them a pot of something sweet. (Bull likes sweet, floral teas best, even if she doesn’t.)

Krem works there too, and opens a couple days a week so Bull can have a day off. Tama never takes a day off except for Qun holidays, on which the shop is closed.

Cassandra is a regular. She loves the quiet atmosphere and how none of her relatives or colleagues would think to look for her here. Common is Tama’s seventh language– they read racy romance novels aloud to each other so Tama can practice speaking it.

Bull tells terrible puns. His favorite is “tea you later” but he’s also fond of “our prices aren’t too steep” and telling little kids that his favorite dinosaur is a tea-rex.

Tama rejected the idea of a shop cat– it would shed everywhere and some customers might be allergic. They have an iguana instead, in a large tank that takes up the entire wall behind the register. His name is Toad.

Cassandra brings Dorian to the shop, on Tama’s instruction. She wants to learn ancient Tevene and Cassandra can’t think of anyone else who might know the language. He takes his payment in cups of tea, because he can’t possibly recreate Tama’s perfection. He insists on buying the blends he takes home, but this doesn’t stop him from flirting outrageously for a discount. It works on Bull, but not Tama.

He complains about it once. Tama raises her eyebrows at him and says, with the solemnity of a person choosing the perfect words in their seventh language, “that is because Ashkaari is a thirsty bitch.”

Cole doesn’t work there, but sometimes he wanders in and hands people blends that they’ve never tried before, but are somehow perfect. Varric wants to write a book about Tama’s life but she keeps telling him conflicting stories. He’s never been this frustrated, or this in love. Josephine comes by three times a week buys one of their largest containers of tea– as long as it’s decaf. Tama worries. Vivienne comes in every Monday evening to buy seven bags of dark breakfast tea. No one can convince her to buy larger quantities or different blends. Tama worries about her too.

Sera thinks that all tea is basically the same, and she’ll just buy whatever’s on clearance. Sometimes Tama puts a single box of her special blend on the clearance table right before Sera comes in. Bull doesn’t know how she can always tell, but Tama seems to know the secrets of Sera’s schedule. Sometimes she gives Sera one of the cookies Sten brought over earlier as well.

Sten’s bakery is next door. They trade tea and cookies often, though Tama thought he was a little odd at first. But if her Askaari like the sweet little cookies he makes, then that’s all right. He can stay. He stays open too late though– Tama closes her doors at four, when everyone who’s sensible has done ther shopping. She doesn’t sell tea to people who aren’t sensible. (Except for Dorian, but he’s a special case.)

  • Alex Danvers: Vasquez did you fulfill my request?
  • Vasquez: Yes ma'am. Lena Luthor's penthouse is under full surveillance
  • Alex Danvers: Good. She turned out to be innocent but I still don't trust her around my sister. So what did you find out?
  • Vasquez: Well ma'am she woke up at 6:30 am. She proceeded to make coffee. After she knocked over her cup she muttered "Why is nothing easy" and then proceeded to cry for three minutes and twenty seconds
  • Alex Danvers: That's....
  • Vasquez: She spent the rest of her Saturday morning reading Harry Potter. At 10:30 am she proceeded to cry about Hedwig for six minutes and fifteen seconds
  • Alex Danvers: I didn't really need to kno....
  • Vasquez: At noon she started watching youtube videos. Upon stumbling on a video of a dog adopting a kitten she proceeded to cry for twelve minutes and forty seconds while muttering that her mother could take an example from this dog
  • Alex Danvers: This is maybe too many deta...
  • Vasquez: Then she spent the rest of the afternoon watching Les Miserable. She cried for ninety six minutes and thirty five seconds
  • Alex Danvers: I really did not ne....
  • Vasquez: Then she microwaved a dinner for one and cried herself to sleep while clutching an old Teddy Bear
  • Alex Danvers: ....
  • Vasquez: This assignment is making me extremely sad ma'am
  • Alex Danvers: You know what? Let's forget this ever happened and never talk about this again
2

My pic and fic-list, because I’m in this fandom for around 2 years.


A (sort of) fairytale // M // Magic //
The summer after senior year starts normally enough, with the gang spending their final months before college together at the Martin family’s lake house.


And I thought I had problems
// E // AU // Vers //

Stiles deals with nefarious soul-sucking witch spells, Scott’s inability to be a fully functioning adult, Danny’s incessant need to make everything about sex, and finding out that his mate is Derek Hale. Tuesdays suck.


John Hughes did not direct my life // E // AU //
Stiles and Derek are childhood friends who drifted apart. When Stiles joins the lacrosse team against his will, the universe (with a little help from Laura and Lydia) chooses to push them back together.


Chasing the horizon
// E // AU //
Stiles nearly laughs and for a moment, he sits there trying to think of anything to say.
“It’s been a good year,” he croaks at long last.


Gravity’s got nothing on you
// E // AU // Vers //
“Three weeks,” Derek says.
“Still don’t want to,” Stiles says.
“I’ll pay you,” Derek says, and that… that has Stiles interested.


Call it a wild card
// T // AU //
“Are you done fanboying, or should I give you a few more minutes?” Erica asks, the smirk and her words clearly directed at Stiles, who’s still standing and gaping, but Derek can’t help but feel there’s a jibe at him hidden in there somewhere, too.


Reach out // E // AU //
In Which Stiles Falls in Love Twice…with the same person


Cupboard love
// G // AU //
He’s carefully balancing the sandwiches and the two biggest tupperware containers he could find that both had functioning lids when the front door opens and he almost drops everything right there in front of the stupid fountain.


Keys and Christmas lights
// M // AU //
Stiles’ fingers clenched in Derek’s hair, holding him with desperation as he stormed his lips. Derek reacted with a shameless murmur of appreciation, letting Stiles to slowly take control over his body.


Sense of home
// E //
Home can be a place, but it can also be a person.


Living with lycanthropy
// E // AU //
Wherein they both own bakeries, Stiles tries not to run his grandmother’s legacy into the ground, Laura wants to be a better alpha, and Derek can’t seem to get Stiles’ attention the regular way - so naturally, he accidentally initiates a prank war.


Our lives are changing lanes
// E // AU //
There’s a lot of screaming going on inside the first house Stiles visits. He isn’t really worried, because it sounds like kids, but then the door opens and hi, says his dick, because the dude in front of him is gorgeous, built like a god with a face like thunder. Stiles wants to lick that solid jaw line. Hold the fuck on, says his cop brain, because the dude’s got kids hanging all over him; one’s on his back, skinny legs looped around his waist, and another two hanging off one arm, toes barely brushing the ground. There’s a tubby toddler clinging to his leg like a koala, and he’s got a baby tucked into the crook of the one arm that doesn’t have kids hanging off it. Stiles’ mouth drops open.


And If I Die Before I Wake // E //
When Stiles wakes up on his eighteenth birthday from a chaste dream about Derek Hale he doesn’t think it’s a big deal. But when he wakes up the next few days to the same dream, he knows something is going on. And he’s going to get to the bottom of it. Once is an incident, twice is a coincidence, and three times is a pattern. More than three is just torture.


Out of his league
// E // AU // Bottom!stiles
Derek’s going to be the best ballplayer ever, if Stiles doesn’t kill him first. Or vice versa.


Why don’t you say so?
// T // AU
Talia Hale has a plan. Derek will go to the Winter Formal and he will ask the Stilinski boy to dance, and they will finally get their heads out of their asses and her son will stop moping around the house in his underwear..


Bogarted
// M // Crack
Or, Derek’s hit with a Film Noir curse, which forces him to narrate his own life in luridly-detailed prose.


Spook: a ghostly love story in three parts
// T // AU
Derek is fifteen when he dies. He’s been fifteen for six years when he meets Stiles.
And then suddenly… suddenly things start looking up.


I do, do you?
// E
Stiles and Derek wake up hung over and married in a hotel room in Las Vegas. It wouldn’t be so bad if the year before their relationship hadn’t fallen apart.


Navigating this space between us
// E
Derek gets forced to watch some sci-fi show about a surly, secret prince and the sarcastic young spaceship captain hired to aid him on his quest.


Glossy double cover spread
// E
When Derek finds out exactly how Stiles has been able to afford the tuition for his fancy private college, he becomes a touch…obsessed.


The sweetest of words
// E //

Five or so years after the show. Stiles is in college, and finds himself getting stalked by a succubus. Derek’s determined that the best way to thwart her is to prove that he and Stiles are madly in love. It’s not really as much of an act as either seems to think.


Celebrity crush
// E // AU
Stiles wasn’t expecting to meet his favourite actor when Scott helped him land an internship on the set of Jackson’s new film, and he certainly wasn’t expecting Derek to fall in love with him. Not that Stiles was complaining.


Game on
// T // AU
Derek first sees him from across the quad four days into fall semester. He’s sitting on one of the long benches, a marker pen in his mouth, grinning at something the kid lounging on the bench beside him is saying. When he laughs properly he pulls the pen out and throws his head back, his neck a long, lean line Derek is entranced by.


Daddy do’s
// G // AU //
Stiles is a celebrity YouTube hairstylist. Derek may or may not have a crush. Lydia just wants a French braid for school picture day.


Brilliant & ridiculous
// M
All Derek wanted was for the woman to leave him alone and ring up his groceries. How that led to her thinking Stiles is his boyfriend is something he blames on Stiles and his inability to stay out of trouble for five minutes.


No homo
// E // AU //
Stiles’ sophomore year starts something like this:
3 FourLokos
+ 1 peer-pressuring cat
- 1 best bro to end all best bros
= 1 Craigslist ad headline that reads “str8 dude - m4m - strictly platonic”.
Derek is the fool who replies.


Alpha complex
// E // AU // PWP //
“Hold still,” Stiles says, hand clamping down on the back of Derek’s neck to keep him from turning and it’s laughable, really – the thought that that would be enough to hold him.


Finger bangin
// E // AU // PWP
Stiles starts bringing drumsticks to Pack gatherings, sitting himself on the edge of the group to tap out maddening rhythms on his knees as the werewolves train.


A road that’s built to last
// E // AU //
Stiles is driving the Trans-Canada highway, all the way from Toronto to Vancouver. He’s always been told that it’s a bad idea to pick up hitchhikers, but, somehow, he’s still got someone riding shotgun with him, and he’s starting to think it might be one of the best decisions he’s made in a long time.


Fly a little faster
// T //
Everyone knows when you go back in time, you shouldn’t step on an ant, just in case you accidentally kill your own grandparent or something. But what happens when you go back in time and, uh, accidentally interrupt the one event that apparently made the Grumpiest Alpha in Town into a ball of mindless manpain?


But then what…
// E // AU
Senior year is almost over, and all Stiles needs to do is keep his head down to survive. A teacher calls in a favour, leaving him stuck tutoring Derek Hale, one of the most popular jocks in school and a member of a group of douche-canoes who have bullied Stiles for years. He’s someone Stiles totally hates. Totally.


All the wonders that remain
// E // AU // WIP
The one where Stiles is an average dude whose soulmate just happens to be movie star Derek Hale, and he only finds out after pictures of Derek’s soulmark - their soulmark -go viral.


Love is a force of nature
// E // AU // PWP
When Derek’s father sat him down for the sex talk when Derek was thirteen, he’d explained that werewolves felt things more intensely than humans when they found their mate.


Say hello to the brushfire
// E // AU
The night before Stiles turns eighteen, Derek Hale spills coffee on him. Things get weirder (and more awesome) from there.


I might be a fool
// E // AU
The thing about Stiles, though, is that for him, turned on and angry are not mutually exclusive feelings. He may be painfully hard but that doesn’t mean he’s not also ready to strangle Derek for having the audacity to act like this is something that’s happening to him, not something that is almost entirely his fault.


With metal on our tongues 
// E // AU
Double-oh agents are a piece of work; Stiles knew that before he became MI6’s new quartermaster. It’s cool, he survived Lydia in college, he can deal with stubborn, reckless, trigger-happy operatives. Derek Hale, though, is definitely trying to live up to his predecessor’s legacy and make Stiles’ life more difficult.


Come on, tear me apart
// E
“Why were you thinking about my tattoo, Stiles?” He asks, making Stiles swallow and lick his lips nervously, only to be more confused when Derek follows the movement with his eyes.


How to turn a bad boy into a fanboy
// T // AU
Stiles owns a comic books store and Laura’s son is a huge fan of Spiderman. It was only a matter of time before Derek stepped foot in there.


Not every tuesday
// E
// AU
Every Tuesday morning at ten, like clockwork, Derek Hale would come into Stiles’ shop and get his stubble trimmed. Every Tuesday at lunch, Lydia would tell him how jealous she was that she couldn’t make it to work before him, getting stuck with perms. Every Tuesday evening, Stiles rushed home and into the shower to get the hair off of him, and to rub one out thinking about jawline and beard burn on his thighs.


Muffins as a declaration of intent
// E

“Top or bottom?” Stiles asks, off to Derek’s right.
“Bottom,” Derek says automatically, not really looking at him. “Wait, what?”


What’s up Pinocchio?
// E // Crack
Stiles knows his dick, okay? He knows it well. He knows how long it is, how thick it is - measuring is a normal thing for a curious teenager, it really is - but somehow, that’s not true anymore.


Accidentally in love
// M
// AU
Derek has spent his summer vacation crushing on the Sheriff’s son Stiles Stilinski, mostly from afar, but then when school starts suddenly Stiles is sitting next to him in Chemistry and inviting him around to his place after school.


Normal again
// T
// AU // Gif-fic
Stiles awakens in a psychiatric hospital. Is it another Alpha mind trick or have the last few years of Stiles life all been a dream created to deal with his mother’s death?


I wish I had a river
// T
// AU
Derek is the editor of a successful publishing firm, and is horrible to all his employees, including Stiles. On Christmas Eve night, he gets visited by three spirits and has to take a look at his life.

This Time With Feeling // E // AU
“Derek Hale, if you refuse to learn from your past…then you will be doomed to repeat it.” In which Derek is turned into a 16-year-old and has to stay with Stiles until they figure out how to turn him back.

I Wanna Take a Ride On Your // E // PWP // Vers
Stiles is…endowed. Derek…likes it.

Biology Is Not Power // E // PWP
Biology is not related to power. That’s the first lesson everyone learns in their Sexuality and Humanity class in high school. Like, the very first thing. First words in the book and everything. 

———
- works I have some sort of sentiment :)

This is the first section of a draft for the Voltron fanfic that is currently dominating my brain. The premise is that soulmates are a thing and can sense with reasonable accuracy the other’s thoughts and feelings. And Shiro and Keith discover they are soulmates at the Garrison.

This was supposed to be a quick little experiment, but I’m already at 6700 words and only a third through the story, at best. We’ll see what happens.

It’s 100% Sheith, no pushing Keith’s age ahead but also probably no M or E rated material. If you don’t care for the ship, don’t read the story.

<><><><><><><><><><>

It was never a question of fault. Blame had been removed from the equation in regard to soulmates for millennia in religious writings. The scientific advances in the last few centuries had identified and measured the soul bond’s existence, had upped the odds somewhat on two soulmates finding one another. They had even found a way to break the bond in extreme circumstances, but they had come no closer to predicting which two people would be forever linked.

But Shiro derived a great deal of fun in pretending to blame Matt during those months at the Garrison and the first part of the Kerberos Mission.

Keep reading

100 Years - Warren Worthington III X Reader

Word count: 2.1k
Requested: no.
A/N: I kinda really want a review on this and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t cry while writing this. I honestly don’t know how I came up with this.
WARNINGS; Smut, death mention
____

‘I’m 15 for a moment

Caught in between 10 and 20

And I’m just dreaming

Counting the ways to where you are’

Warren never had it easy, his life had been hell since he was nine years old. he discovered he was a mutant and his father disowned him. He reverted to running away to anywhere, his father had been responsible for many mutant deaths and he was certain he would kill his own son too, if given the chance. Years later, at fifteen ( six years to be exact), Warren was standing inside of a closed cage used for mutant fighting. He had nothing really, just his dream of being free and able to run away with the white wings spanning out of his back. They had to be useful for something else than violence, he knew it. But he couldn’t leave. This messed up place was his home and all he really wanted was to feel loved for who he was and not be a center of attention for entertainment. The blond boy found himself staying up late just to dream up a better place than here. There had to be some one out there who would love him as he was, there was someone for everyone wasn’t there?

'I’m 22 for a moment

And she feels better than ever

And we’re on fire

Making our way back from Mars’

He had give up a lot of his dreams since he was fifteen, Warren no longer believed in love. He was a lone wolf, he had many one night stands, many nights drunk and many fights. He had stopped dreaming of this freedom he craved for so long.
Warren’s twenty second birthday was different, he hadn’t seen interest in anyone until he looked out into the crowd of the people who were watching him fight. His eyes landed on her and his body froze for a moment. She wasn’t visibly interested in the fighting yet somehow her whole body had him captured. He watched her throughout that night, he had to speak to her.
He had never been nervous, except when he was hiding away from his father and sneaking behind his back to cut off his wings, but now he was nervous to even look in this girl’s way.
Once he caught up to be behind this woman, Warren froze again. He wondered if she would even want to speak to a freak like him. Probably not but he wanted this so bad, he had to speak to her and he wondered why. Gently, the angels hand landed on the shoulder of the unnamed lady. She spun around to reveal her y/e/c eyes and a bright smile. She paused, unsure why he wanted to seek her attention as Warren mentally prepared himself for a rejection. “Hello, I’m y/n. You are?” her voice was soft as Warren swallowed down his fear. “I’m Warren, and I must say you look very, very lovely” his thick British accent came out.

Neither of them knew how it happened, but the two woke up the next morning together in a pile of limbs, wings draped over y/n’s soft y/s/c skin. Their clothes were in a pile next to them as y/n rubbed her eyes and focused in the white wings around her body. She took time to caress him and love him. Warren had never felt any kind of affection, not for a long time. Then it all came back into her mind. The soft sounds he made as she praised him and pressed her fingers in the spot between his wings. His moans were soft and muffled as he buried his face in her neck, thrusting himself in and out of her body at a relatively calm pace. He had always been rough but he could swear his body was on fire when he was inside her. Or the way he groaned loudly when her fingers tangled into his blond mess of curls as his thrusting sped up, her tugging the roots as a way of appreciation during their hook up. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he rocked himself fluidly. Warren took it all in as he remembered the night before, a heavy blush falling to his cheeks as he was on a high that was love.

'15 there’s still time for you

Time to buy and time to lose

15, there’s never a better wish than this

When you only got a hundred years to live’

It hurt when he watched y/n get dressed and press her lips to his cheek as she left. The thought of him never having that kind of high, that kind of touch, that kind of love again had actually hurt him. Part of him wanted to chase after her but he was physically drained and had another fight today. No time for love. He hung his head and sighed to himself. But he noticed the small slip of torn paper later with her number. Maybe this angel with a broken heart had a chance after all. Hr had never stuck with a one night stand, he had never even tried by now, things had to be different. For the first time in his life, he prayed.

'I’m 33 for a moment

Still the man, but you see I’m a “they”

A kid on the way, babe.

A family on my mind’

Some how, this boy got the girl and now in their mid thirties, he was asking to start a family with his wife of four years. She wasn’t a mutant and he didn’t think she would want a mutant child. He wondered why anyone would want someone who was a freak of nature like he was. He paused for a moment and took in her beauty. “Can I ask you something?” he swallowed as his lover looked up with soft eyes. “Of course”. Warren ran a hand through his hair, “Do you… want to start a family with me?” Warren’s voice came out so soft that y/n had barely heard it. Her lips pulled into a smile, “of course I do”.

Warren had fallen into the wrong when he joined Apocalypse when he was only 24 years old, and somehow, she loved him even then. Y/n loved him with the permanent tattoos on his face and his permanent metal wings, which ached so horrible. He had cut her with them during the simple task of cuddling and was so terrified to touch her, but her response was only “we’ll learn”. He considered himself beyond lucky to have her.

“Angel…” y/n started as Warren blinked back to reality. 'hm?’ “We’ve already started our family… I’m pregnant”. Warren’s eyes widened, “really?! Aren’t you afraid they’ll be a mutant like me and-” Y/n cut him off. “That’s what I’m hoping for, actually. I’ll have two angels in my life and more reasons to stay strong”.

'I’m 45 for a moment

The sea is high

And I’m heading into a crisis

Chasing the years of my life’

Their son was twelve now and Warren swore he was going to be the death of him. He watched his son grow his used to be white wings and comforted him when the pain was unbearable. He valued a lot in life now, his family was his everything. Warren wondered how his life had passed by so much and was open to his son, telling him he had been in the wrongs more than once. On one night, when the only child of them was sick, Warren was sitting with his twelve year old, telling him that he would always love him and the moat important thing was to be proud of who he was. “dad, I know… I’m proud of who I am because you’re my dad. I’m like you and I’m me”. His heart swelled, here he was, chasing after another dream. He wanted another child, and he was impatient.


'15 there’s still time for you

Time to buy and time to lose yourself

Within a morning star’

Warren held his little girl when his son was almost thirteen. His eyes were glossy as his wife had given everything she could, he had a new person to care and love, but he no longer had the woman who had given this to him. He felt pain, and of course, he was losing his mind. She had given her life for a new life that was rowing inside of her, suddenly Warren felt sick, like it was his fault.
His son turned fifteen, his daughter two. That was the day he seen her again, this time, she was real. “How?” he asked as his wife, who was long dead, now held his cheek in her palm. “Mutants are able to vary, aren’t they? I’m a mutant as well… I gave myself a second chance, for you. I’m nor immortal. Just able to heal” she cooed softly. “but why did you leave me all alone?” he asked with a more than broken heart. “I never left you, I would never leave you. Do you know why? Because you’re in my heart”.

'15, I’m right with you

15, there’s never a better wish than this

when you’ve only got a hundred years to live’

For the first time in a long time, Warren felt at ease as he watched his children grow and his wife grow old with him. “Pretty soon he’ll be going away to college” Warren sighed as he watched the seventeen year old boy who resembled him so much play with his four year old sister. “That just means we have to watch and care for our daughter just as much as we did him when he was an only child” y/n sounded softly. Warren nodded, “maybe we could get a dog”. Y/n felt her lips pull into a smile, “that sounds wonderful”.

'Half time goes by

Suddenly you’re wise

Another blink of an eye

67 is gone

The sun is getting high

We’re moving on…’

The house had grown quiet and empty, the once young and blond angel was now aged and gray haired. His children had given him grand children. His son was now thirty four years old with a wife and two little boys. His daughter, a bright young girl who resembled her mother and had his white wings, was twenty two years old and expecting her first baby. She had grown up to be a nurse. His grandchildren found it wonderful that he knew so much, “Grandpa has to know! He always knows!” they’d cheer. It warmed Warren’s heart.
Warren sat down uncomfortably, his back aching. His wings had the tendency to schedule and he’d sit up crying most nights now. Y/n looked up, “pretty soon the house will always be empty…” it wasn’t a thought the two adored, they feared it more than anything. The angel smiled, “We’ll be alright”. And they would.

'I’m 99 for a moment

And dying for just another moment

And I’m just dreaming

Counting the ways to where you are’

Warren had become ill and was on bed rest. He was sick, he knew this. He lost her for the final time. His son was Sixty six and aging, his daughter was fifty four and by his side. “It will all be okay” they assured, he knew this, he was an angel. He counted down the moments until he’d be knocking on heaven’s door. He didn’t want to leave his family behind but it’s a part life played.

'15 there’s still time for you

22 I feel her too

33 you’re on your way

Every day’s a new day’

In the end, it was believed the mind plays memories in a sequence for the last seven minutes of brain activity. His memories were jumbled as he found himself looking at a very young woman again, her beauty catching him off guard. She smiled her captivating smile and he was drawn in like she was a siren of the sea. Maybe this wasn’t the end, but was the very beginning.

'15 there’s still time for you

Time to buy and time to choose

Hey 15, there’s never a wish better than this

When you only got a hundred years to live’

He hadn’t moved, still staring at the unnamed stranger as he dreamt up his life with her. He paused, so many choices and so many things to say, he gently reached forward and touched her shoulder gently to grab her attention. She turned around with her y/e/c eyes shining, “yes?” she hummed out softly. Warren’s lips tugged into a smile, “I couldn’t help but be captured by your beauty, can I get you a drink?” he offered with a calmer tone than what was in his head. She smiled and nodded, “I’d like that, on two conditions”. He nodded, “yes?’ She paused, "Your name and a conversation”. “of course”.

8

Last night in photos. I had to leave work twice yesterday. First because my daughter had brought her home uniform to an away game, and again at the end of the day, because she’d left her backpack in the gym a few towns over when she took a Lyft home. I do feel some guilt about leaving her to fend for herself so much, but I’m sure she’ll be stronger for it. I could have let her sit out the game, but it’s important to Nick. And she couldn’t do her homework without her backpack.

Lately I am constantly fighting panic. I appear to be functioning, but I am not my normal efficient self. I am having trouble focusing, and I always feel on the verge of tears or a meltdown. I feel like I can’t breathe.

So last night I picked some tangerines, lemons and limes and took them to my neighbors’ house. They had invited me and Sophia over for BLTs. Phia was too busy with homework.

My neighbors are delightful and unusual. I talked with the husband, while the wife cooked up some bacon in the microwave and brought out condiments. Now I know why they are both so tiny! She brought out 3 cooked strips of bacon and crumbled them on a plate. Then she told me to help myself, while her husband said, “There’s plenty for everyone.” I was glad I hadn’t brought my six foot fifteen year old. These are not poor people; their liquor cabinet would rival the local bar’s, and they are works travelers. I think food just isn’t their thing. They did have lots of chopped up goodies, though. I ended up with a sandwich made from, homemade blue cheese dressing, a few bacon crumbles, chopped tomato, shredded cheddar cheese, cilantro, and lettuce. It was pretty damn good.

My neighbor showed me the shiny red jacket and shorts she made for a trans guy in their running club. They have so much fun with the Hashhouse Harriers.

I think this was my first teetotaling visit with them. They always cheer me up. Then I went home and picked more tangerines for myself.

What a story. 😜

ETA-My neighbor used to be an aerospace engineer and a lineman (not simultaneously). She found a deal on marble one time when her husband was out of the country running a marathon. She designed the floor in her sunroom, then cut and laid the whole floor herself. This is a 4'9" woman in her 60s, who’s had Parkinson’s for 15 years.