stock of a tree

Things to do when you want to give up

1. Take some time out to recuperate. You can’t keep going if you’re running on empty.

2. Take a step back to try and gain perspective – as sometimes we can’t see the woods for the trees.

3. Attempt to take stock of the current situation. Evaluate what you really want and need.

4. Try to re-evaluate your current strategy. What things are working and what things should you change?

5. Don’t be afraid to change direction if you need to. Sometimes that is the best thing – and it opens up new options.

6. Push through the dip - as we all lose momentum. But if you keep on going, you will get there in the end.

Angels in the Bunker

Characters: Gabriel, Castiel, Balthazar, Lucifer x Reader (you’ll see *wink wonk*)

Word Count: 1,580

Warnings: Fluff!

A/N: This was requested by @averagegaykid! I loved writing this one, so I hope you all enjoy it! I hope you’ve all enjoyed Satan Sunday this week!! I love you all so much!!

You assembled the four angels, all of them standing together in front of you.  They all towered over you, which was one of the reasons you recruited their help.  While the Winchesters were gone, you were going to decorate the bunker for Christmas.  It was not an easy task to do by yourself.  

You had them each bring along different decorations.  Balthazar was to get the Christmas tree, and the ornaments for it.  Gabriel was supposed to get lights for the tree, along with stockings.  Castiel was sent to get candy for the stockings, along with candy canes for the tree.  You asked Lucifer to bring one thing, garland.  You knew Lucifer was not a fan of Christmas, but he could never say no to you.

“Alright my angels,” you smiled.  “We only have the rest of today and a little bit of tomorrow to decorate the bunker.  Dean and Sam don’t take long on hunts.  They’ll be even quicker when they realize this is just a ruse.”

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other answer for marge simpson anime existing: because I was tired of knowing that the other shoe would always drop when ever it came to her narrative, hence bringing us back to the status quo

bc the culture of heterosexuality is a sham

bc i still haven’t stocked up on all my meds

bc sometimes when I see a poplar tree in the pale moon light it kinda looks like marge

Things i love about this

-the “stockings” on the fridge
-the tree made of tires
-the “ornaments” (dynamite, frag grenades, the lit bomb that definetly went off seconds after taking this photo)
-junkrat trying to capture santa (the cookies are on his trap)
-the barbed wire bow
-the newspaper wrapping paper
-junkrat’s SOCK
-roadhogs knee pad things are snowmen
-the fact that they put ACTUAL ornaments om the fence instead of on the tree
-they wrapped a cone with barbed wire?? Why???
-is that tire near roadhog supposed to be a wreath or something??
-whered they even get a fridge?
-the very obvious painted nails (take that people who say it’s “radiation poisoning”)
-roadhog’s red pants

The Politics of Vaporwave - Part One - A Brief Taxonomy of Vaporwave and a Thesis on Its Implications

Vaporwave is a lie put into musical form. It is the sound of the evaporated American Dream, manifest destiny, corporate identity, the sound of the future as described by a venture capitalist in 1989. It is an emphatic nothing, or a pointedly meaningless something, a reclamation of the corporate and the soulless into a compelling audible satire.

But maybe I’m getting ahead of myself here.

Before we talk about the stakes of vaporwave (which remain, in my opinion, fairly inalienable from the actual machinations of the form), let’s delve into its identity. This introductory post will be centered around the central characteristics and origins of vaporwave: firstly, what it is; secondly, where it began; and finally, what I believe it to be doing/why this is important (without giving too much away).

Formally, vaporwave seems to be an essentialization of the things that old men and angry 15 year olds in YouTube comments deem to not be “real music” (easily as dubious and misguided a point as arguing about what, indeed, is “real art”). However, anybody with some degree of knowledge of the form can tell you that these claims are not as unfounded as, say, disgust for hip-hop: the stereotypical vaporwave song consists of a song from the 1980s slowed down (to the extent that it remains recognizable as a degradation of an original work), given a liberal application of reverb and echo, and affixed with artwork typically incorporating a few of the following images/styles: outdated video game system logos/box art, ESRB ratings, marble busts, the colors pink/teal, poorly rendered 3D graphics, computer-generated clouds, fountains, palm trees, stock photos of skylines, mirroring, faux-futuristic architecture/computers, inexplicable Japanese text, and/or old OS graphics (cough cough). As such, it has become incredibly easy to classify vaporwave as a “meme genre”: I’d imagine that no video of vaporwave with above, say, 5,000 views, does not have a comment deriding the genre as being nothing more than, well, vapor.

This brings us to the first aspect of the genre that begins to shed some light on what I think it’s trying to accomplish: the name “vaporwave”. The name is a clear reference to the concept of “vaporware”, i.e. software/hardware that is announced to the public but never released; a digital metaphor, at least to me, for the unfulfilled promise inherent in the world of vaporwave. The name gives us our first hint as to what vaporwave, I think, is attempting to accomplish: by engendering a musical atmosphere of 80s capitalism, of the new promise of the digital, and then slowing it down, the genre forces us to concentrate on the pointed nothingness at the heart of this media, and by extension, capitalism.

But before we go into the theoretical machinations of vaporwave, I think it’s important to discuss the genre’s genesis. Vaporwave is a relative baby when it comes to music genres, having sprung up in 2010 around Daniel Lopatin’s (currently known as Oneohtrix Point Never) album released under the name Chuck Person, Eccojams Vol. 1. While this album is incredibly interesting (I consider it beautiful), I don’t think it matters to the claim of the genre as much as a few other founding works; namely, James Ferraro’s Far Side Virtual and Macintosh Plus’ (Ramona Xavier, otherwise known as VEKTROID) Floral Shoppe, both released in late 2011. These albums, I feel, really introduce vaporwave’s political and social claims.

To wit, let’s go into the claim now: I believe that vaporwave, as a networked art form, is Marxist in its approach to the cultural values of capitalism; it takes the claims of capitalism at its most rampant and renders them ironic and warped, tactically edited to expose them for what they are: vapor. As a genre founded on samples, it is inherently reclamatory, and as such it is simultaneously postmodern and an act of rebellion, resisting usual capitalist values of musical “property”. In short: vaporwave is what happens when a network transforms and ironizes many major political concerns of the 20th/21st century. The question that I will be asking in this essay series (and hopefully answering) is, then: Why is vaporwave a form that networked, politicized art has taken, and how does it embody politics?

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Seventh Christmas

the series is as follows so far:

FirstSecond ThirdFourthFifthFifth Christmas, Part 2SixthSeventhEighthNinthTenthEleventhTwelfthThirteenthFourteenthFifteenthSixteenthSeventeenthEighteenthNineteenthTwentiethTwenty-firstTwenty-secondTwenty-third


The only thing driving her to celebrate any kind of Christmas was her mother. She insisted that the tree go up, the stockings, garland, the whole shooting match when all Scully wanted to do was curl on her sofa, hand spanning her swelling belly and cry until she woke from her living nightmare.

Maggie had the good sense not to comment on the ornaments as she hung them, quietly decorating with memories of her future grandchild’s father, her daughter’s partner, her adopted son and friend. She had no idea what to talk about, the conversations she’d been having the last four days being, for the most part, one-sided but even if she did manage to draw her daughter out of her solitary state for a few minutes, Scully drifted right back to silence, usually in the middle of a word or intake of breath to finish a sentence she had lost interest in the moment it occurred to her to respond.

She tried to talk her daughter into coming to Christmas dinner two days from then but Scully stanchly refused, not meeting her mother’s eye as she shook her head, informing her once again that she didn’t want to see everyone and deal with the questions and Bill’s looks and Tara needling about the sex of the baby and discussing teething and colic … and the myriad of other motherly things she’d had to go to and which Scully would be experiencing in the future …

Alone …

And afraid …

She left out the alone and afraid part, running her sentence into nothing and receiving a sympathetic stare from Maggie that squeezed her throat and made her excuse herself to the bathroom to attempt to stop her tears for the 12 time that day.


By the time Christmas Eve rolled around, she had successfully staved off her family and was now wedged into the corner of the couch, her tree unlit, the candy cane in her stocking uneaten, Mulder’s ornaments staring her in the face, mocking her with happy times while she wallowed in her depression. About to shoved the whole kit-and-kaboodle back in its boxes and packing paper and pitch it all to the far corners of her apartment to collect dust until she felt like some sort of human being again, there was a knock on the door.

Her hormones fired up immediately, anger raging to the surface, and pulling the door open, she was fully prepared to scream at her mother/brother/sister-in-law that she was not coming to Christmas and to get the hell off her back.

Instead, she found Skinner standing there, Santa hat perched on his bald head, two tall takeout cups full of something that smelled suspiciously like hot chocolate. Leaning on the doorframe, her belly protruding into the hall, she looked at him with tired eyes, the fight draining out of her, the black cloud filling in the empty space.

Skinner watched her face settle back to sadness and he poked her shoulder with the drink holder, “are you just going to leave me out here in the hall with this? It’s cold, my feet are wet and I’m wearing a Santa hat. Would you let me in, please?” Relenting, she moved aside, allowing her boss to enter the dim apartment but not moving into the room itself, a clear sign that she didn’t want him staying long. He picked up on her unsubtle hint but taking matters into his own hands, ignored her and setting the cups on her kitchen table, removed his coat, “not going to your mom’s I hear.”

“Where’d you hear that?”

“Do you really want to know?”

Scully groaned, returning to her now cold couch cushions, not caring her boss was staring at her in her pajamas as she walked away from him, “either my mother called you or Frohike.”


Resting her head on her palm, she motioned him over with the other hand, “might as well bring the drinks. Mom’s probably having you followed and if you leave here right now, she’ll just send somebody else in.”

Knowing her well enough not to take it personally, he settled on the other end of the couch, handing her a cup, “she’s just worried about you.”

“Yes. Her hovering gave her away.” Scully sipped and burned her tongue, wincing, “I really would just like to get through Christmas quietly and alone. Why can’t people seem to understand that?”

“It’s that age old story of the mother caring about her daughter. Can you imagine the audacity of such an idea?”

She cracked a smile, rolling her eyes as she dropped her head for a moment, “fine. I get it. I just …” Looking up, she glanced at the tree, Skinner following her gaze, “it’s Christmas and he should be here, making weird noises at my stomach and hanging a new ornament on the tree and demanding I share a candy cane.”

Putting down his cup, he stood, staring for a moment until he found the cord and plugged it in, the tree throwing off happy rainbows of color, glinting off his glasses as he turned back to her, “this should really be turned on. Christmas trees were meant to be turned on.”

Her mess of emotions led to several rogue tears running down her cheeks while she tried not to look at him but of course, he shifted, sitting down on the table in front of her, forcing her to meet his eye. She did her best to contain the rest of the tears but suddenly, she felt herself pulled forward, her face mashed into Skinner’s sweater and although she should have pulled back and asked ‘what the hell?’, she instead began an immediate and sopping wet meltdown.


Skinner fell asleep on his corner of the couch, head back, glasses just enough askew that it made her smile. Covering him with an afghan, she cleaned up the empty cups, then moved to turn off the tree before heading to bed. The light wasn’t on in her heart ornament and flicking the switch, she backed up a step to watch it for a moment, twinkling happily among the evergreen branches. His voice made her jump, sleepy in its cadence but still holding its military authority, “is that from Mulder?”

Scully nodded her head, entranced by the illumination, her speech slow as well, “he bought it for me last year when we stopped in Chicago after a case. He bought me a sweater and a hat and a cinnamon roll and an ornament,” caught in her memory, she didn’t worry that it was Skinner she was talking to, “and then he held my hand while we fell asleep.”

Skinner didn’t mind the confession, given she was carrying his child and he’d known them for too long to ever believe they were just partners, even in the early years, “did he buy the snowman as well? The wire one?”

Moving her hand to it, “this was from two Christmas’ ago before he dragged me to a haunted house and stole my keys.” Pointing to the windchimes hanging unmoving in front of her windows, “he gave me those for Christmas but he gave me the ornament a few days before that, when he helped me decorate it.”

“Did he always help put it up? Decorate with you?”

Shifting a little, she ran her fingers along the edges of the stockings, “he showed up the year I had my cancer with the stockings and a box of candy canes and made me share one with him before he rearranged my living room so I could sleep on the sofa bed and still see the tree all lit up.”

By now, Skinner had abandoned his blanket and was standing next to her, friendly distance between them, “when did he bring the garland into it?”

“How do you know the garland was him, too?”

“It seems like a Mulder kind of thing to do.” Closing the friendly distance, he put one long around over her shoulders, nudging her just a bit closer until he felt her unconsciously lean into his side, “he’ll come back, Scully. Maybe not in the next ten minutes but he’ll be back. We’ll find him and next Christmas, he’ll be here to hang the garland and eat the candy canes and make you hot chocolate so I don’t have to and he’ll be here to hold his child and wrap gifts and hold your hand.”

Her eyes slid shut at the memories, then opened again as she twisted to look up at him, “I need him back, sir.”

“And we won’t stop looking.”

A few minutes later, she shut the door behind him, locking it before heading down the hall to her bedroom. Shuffling down the hall once again a minute later, she curled on the couch and fell asleep, the tree keeping giving her the company Mulder could not.


She found a bag hanging on the knob of her front door when she went to get the paper the next day. Opening it, she found an simple round ornament, bearing a Christmas tree, the year Sharpie’d below it with the initials, ‘M’ and ‘S’ on the opposite side, wobbly heart drawn around them.

Hanging the ornament, she then pulled her hands into the thick-cabled sweater she’d put on before falling asleep. The soft wool yarn was as close as she could get to his hug and she would take whatever she could get.

{ fluffmas prompts //#24 with poly!hamilsquad x reader }

{ requested by a sweet anon. hope you like it! <3 xx there was a separate request for a nsfw version that i’ll try to have up soon as well. }

24 - wearing stockings

slightly nsfw?? more suggestive. the boys get a little handsy,,,but you look so good in your little outfit! they really can’t help it…

You had a Christmas party starting any minute now. You’d been planning this for a while with your boys. Christmas parties always made you so excited for the upcoming season. You had all of your gifts ready to present, an outfit picked out, and were practically counting down the days. It was at your brand new place that you had gotten with your boyfriends. You and Laf decorated the house this morning while Herc got Alex and John to help him bake and prepare the food. 

You had about 45 minutes until your guests started coming in. While you were excited for what was in store, you still felt like you were going to throw up. 

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Twelfth Christmas

the series is as follows so far:

FirstSecond ThirdFourthFifthFifth Christmas, Part 2SixthSeventhEighthNinthTenthEleventhTwelfthThirteenthFourteenthFifteenthSixteenthSeventeenthEighteenthNineteenthTwentiethTwenty-firstTwenty-secondTwenty-third


It was their first Christmas where not a damn thing was happening. No one was sick, no one was running, no one was dead.

It was very impressive for them.

Everything had come out of storage, which, thankfully, Maggie and Skinner had packed up for them once they’d disappeared. Scully found all her ornaments, her tree, her lights and garland, her stockings and tree skirt. She had wanted to put everything up when they first unpacked at the end of January and perfectly willing, Mulder stood quietly while she talked herself out of it. As compromise, he played Christmas music and made her sugar cookies while she went out scouting for a job.

Part of the deal of their return to civilization was an ankle tracker for him and no law enforcement work for either, which meant Scully became the breadwinner without a badge and Mulder roamed free on their property, all 2 acres of it, his only contact with the outside world being online and any mailmen, delivery men and repair men that might come his way.

And in all honesty, he didn’t mind in the slightest. Scully got to have her family back, her interaction, her life and the smile she wore every day more than made up for his confinement.


“Do you want to study tonight?”

Scully, happily exhausted from her hours at the lab, looked at him with eyes at half-mast, “nope. Classes are done for the break and I have two weeks of no homework.”

He gave her a classic Scully eyebrow as he handed her her mug of hot cocoa, “I know that but that has nothing to do with you wanting to study. You want to study all the time. You can study stuff and have it not mean anything in the grand scheme of homework.”

Blowing the steam across the top of the cup, watching it twist and dissipate into nothing, “am I that much of a geek?”

“But you’re my geek so it’s okay.” Squinting at her, “so, are you serious about the ‘no studying, no homework’ thing?”

Tilting her head and giving him a half-embarrassed, half-cocked, half-radiant smile, “probably not but right now, I am completely fine with leaving my medical books elsewhere and doing the decorating.” After a quick glance around at the boxes he’d carried down from the attic, “did you get them all or do you need me to carry a few down?”

“I’m here all day, Scully, I got them all.”

Looking sharply at him for a moment, she saw no ill-will or anger, just his relaxed look that spoke volumes about how he was still handling his confinement. Scully set her mug down then after planting a short kiss on his cheek, “then let’s get it on.”

“I sincerely hope you mean having wild sex with you amidst the boxes?”

“Let’s save that for under the tree once we’re done. I’ve got a surprise or two left in me and I think you’ll enjoy it more if there wasn’t a cardboard corner poking you in the ass.”

Mulder tugged the tree box open, “then let’s move it, woman.”


They hung up the things and this year, there were definitely a few more things, given Mulder had discovered online shopping and dollar stores all in the same sitting. He didn’t spend money unless he felt it absolutely necessary and not without discussing it with Scully first but he didn’t think she’d mind a few surprise accoutrements added to their holiday collection. More garland had been a must, as well as more lights to string up across the porch railing and around the windows. Scully had hinted that she wanted a Nativity scene and the atheist in him was squashed flat in the 0.4 second battle between belief and Scully, with the nativity scene arriving secretly to be put up when she wasn’t looking. She’d had to pick up the candy canes at the grocery store but had stated, with a smile, that it was the least she could do given she was going to be eating most of them herself.

When it was finally time to decorate the actual tree about an hour later, Mulder let her remove her ornaments, some of her last vestiges of an older life, a past life. The joining of two individuals into one house had culled unnecessary thing and things that didn’t seem as important as they had once been but given they’d made Christmas theirs so many years ago, all those items stayed with a bone-crushing vengeance, Scully not even allowing the slightly mangled original garland to go anywhere, because, as she admitted freely, he bought it and it was staying until they pried it from her cold, dead hands.

They put up her childhood ornaments, her father’s gifted ones, the Mulder years then, after only a slight pause at Will’s items, baby’s first Christmas ones abounding, she then hung the clear ornament with the house key in it, which they’d put back once other keys were made and the engagement ring ornament, now filled with a slip of paper on cotton that clearly stated ‘She said yes!” in Mulder’s hand.

After this one stopped swinging on its branches, she took Mulder’s hand, “think we should still get married one day?”

As soon as they’d gotten their hormones under control from the proposal, Mulder made a good point about how they should wait until things calmed down in their world before they went off and complicated them again by getting hitched in name, rank and serial number. He told her he would prefer to walk down the aisle without wearing his ankle jewelry and understanding completely, Scully had no problem, happy in the knowledge that one day she’d get to marry her most wanted unwanted man from the basement.

“Should we still get married?” he repeated, pulling her close by the waist, leaving just enough millimeters to wiggle fingers up her shirt, wiggle them again up, over and into the top of her bra, “I think we should. I just need to figure out a way to pry this damn tracker off me and we’ll run to Atlantic City and do the deed up right.”

“Atlantic City?” His fingers were making her intellect slip to repeating phrases, and she forced her mind to form at least one more complete sentence, “I thought I’d be getting an aisle in a church somewhere with mom and at least a priest who didn’t look like Elvis?”

“Nope.” Fingers moving inward to wrap around warm flesh, “I just said aisle. After the things I’ve done to you, I’m lucky to have made it through that one Christmas mass. I try that nonsense again and God will surely be like, ‘nope, not having it, move along’ and fire a lightning bolt straight up my …”

She cut his sacrilege off with a kiss and a grin, “shut up and get me out of this shirt, will you, please?”

He immensely enjoyed his time under the tree with her and early the next morning, he found her on the couch, in the dark, only the tree lit. Having dragged the comforter with him, he climbed over the back of the couch, enveloping her in the blue-patterned thick blanket. It went over her head, sending hair askew into her face and making her smile, the parts still visible to him rainbow lit from the lights of the tree. “Good morning.”

Her voice emerged as she pulled the covering from her head completely, settling them on their laps, her hair staying disheveled and adorable, “morning. It’s awfully early for you to be awake.”

“I felt you get up. I like you. I followed. I think they call that the ‘loyal dog response’.”

Cuddling up to him, “you are the best English Mastiff a girl could ever have.”

He took that as the compliment it was intended and kissed the top of her head, “so, are you gonna make me wait to give you your ornament or can I just do it now because I really don’t want to wait.”

“You’ve thoroughly enjoyed the online shopping experience, haven’t you?”

“Beats the hell out of Christmas crowds and I get to talk to the UPS guy for a few minutes. Win, win for me.”

Pulling back in horrified shock, “you got something going on with the UPS guy?”

“No more than you did with that pizza man.” Tweaking her nose, “move so I can go get your gift.” Move she did and he returned a minute later from his office, a small carton in his hand. Dropping back beside her, he set it on her lap, “Merry early Christmas, Scully.”

Amused, she opened the paper, finding not a round bulb but her gold FBI badge, now with a hole in the top and a ribbon through it, hook on the end, “you ornamentized my badge?”


She burst out laughing then hauled up from the couch to hang it, “it bends the branches. I’m gonna need to hang it on two of them.” Coming back his way, she dug under the table beside them, moving newspapers and other detritus before handing him a wrapped gift, “here you go.”

Taking the box, he found a set of ten carved candy canes, all different sizes and types of wood, each with signature stripes whittled in barber pole fashion, sanded and varnished in various colors, quietly waiting to be hung on the tree. He picked up one gently, “you made these?”

“Yeah. Took me most of the year. Been using wood from around here. I’m very lucky you take naps in the afternoons.”

“Is that why you never come lay down with me?”

Shrugging, she ducked her head in embarrassment, “although I have a feeling I’m going to have to retire my pocket knife for awhile. School is getting too busy and I barely got these done.”

With a chuckle, he settled the box on the coffee table, then attacked her on the couch, neck first, then belly as he shoved her shirt up with his nose, “scalpels are just as good as pocket knives.”

“That is not something you normally hear at Christmas.”

“Well, we’re weird. Get over it.”

Wiggling out of her shirt, “I think I’m under it, Mulder.”

Laughing into her neck, “under it, indeed.”

The Way Home (Part 6)

Summary: AU. Two hearts are broken after reader makes the difficult decision to leave home and pursue her dreams. When her older brother Steve asks her to come home, reader is forced to confront her past and the life she could have had with her ex, Bucky Barnes.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 3,079

Warnings: language, angst, fluff?

A/N: I’m not really sure if this is good or not, because I have been a mess over Carrie and now her mama. Can’t even believe it. Hug all your loved ones tonight. Anyways, this is definitely my the most angst I’ve ever written in my entire life. Part seven will be the last part! As always, thank you for reading!

Part 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

Originally posted by carmelasky

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Not to be petty (shut up), but the reason there’s always a ton of Kylo Ren stuff at the dollar store is because it doesn’t sell as well as the Finn and Rey stuff.  I’ve found a lot of Finn and Rey stuff (I haven’t really seen standalone Poe stuff tbh) at Dollar Tree. Puzzles (Finn/Rey), stickers, valentines (w/ Finn on the box front), wrapping paper, notebooks, tissues, school supplies, etc. I always buy Finn stuff when I see it at the DT in my neighborhood, and it’s always gone within a couple days. There’s always Kylo Ren stuff left over gathering dust. Also there is never any Finn or Rey stuff on the Dollar Tree website – that’s the overstock they can’t sell in stores. 

So basically, when it comes to the dollar stores, you gotta go within a day or two of when they put out new stock to get Finn and Rey stuff. Dollar Tree is actually one of the best places for Finn-centric items, I’ve found. But yes, you can find all kinds of Kylo Ren stuff there at any given time.

Ivonne’s 12 Days of Deadpool, #4

Spideypool x Reader, fluff.

Peter and Wade make you Christmas cookies.

#1, #2 , #3 , #4 , #5 , #6 , #7 , #8 , #9 . #10 , #11, #12, #13

Cookies. The smell of cookies had hit your nose strongly, waking you up from a much needed nap. You get out of the large bed and realized you were still naked from earlier. Quickly, you put on a pair of black shorts and ‘Frankie Says Relax’ shirt. You walked quietly out the bedroom door and walked into the kitchen.

“Wade! The cookies are going to burn!” Peter groaned.

“Listen Betty Crocker, I know what I’m doing,” Wade snapped back with a smirk. He opened the oven door with his Hello Kitty oven mitts and took out the sheet of cookies. “See, baby boy. Delicious.”

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