thus ends the worst week and three days of my life

Allow me to rant about Maggie and Sanvers

When we first meet Maggie, we learned three basic things about the character: she’s an out and proud lesbian, she’s a cocky little shit, she cares a lot about people. For a while, this is all we had to hold on to. Maggie’s layers were added painstakingly slowly, and you had to pay attention to see what they were. Looking back, the traits that made Maggie Sawyer the woman we love, were always there, we just didn’t know it.

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Art Student AU

Take off that sweater. Please. It’s burning my eyes and offends me.

“That sweater is hideous.”

Pausing, Riskua looks down at the large sweater that covers her torso and nearly half her thighs. Sometimes sweaters that are oversized are cute. 

This one however…

“Okay, so it’s not the prettiest of thi-”

“Ris-ya, it’s offensive; it’s searing when I only catch a glimpse from the corner of my eye. I daren’t look at you head on.”

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beanmoreau  asked:

[insert prompt here] Kuwei and wylan tryna (v obviously) out flirt each other with/at Jesper x3 x3

send me prompts!

did someone say high school au???  no???  well ur getting one.  this went slightly away from your prompt at the end but, high school nerds with crushes, am i right?  

  • it starts with fifth-period chemistry
  • jesper’s there because he needed something to fill his timetable with and he spends more time trying to talk to wylan across the room than he does paying attention, which doesn’t do wonders for wylan’s concentration but he’s not really complaining
  • the issue starts when radmakker, their chem teacher, tells them all to split into pairs for a project
  • wylan’s not even three feet from jesper’s desk when kuwei slides into the seat next to him, looking entirely too pleased with himself, and says something too quiet for wylan to hear
  • there’s exactly 21 students in that class, which means one too many, so it’s either luck or extreme misfortune when radmakker spots the three of them and exclaims “excellent!  you three can work together”

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Wu Yi Fan - As a Boyfriend

A/N: OK. I know there are a few requests in there (and a kyungsoo one is up next) but think about it guys. I’ve been drowning in Kris feels for a while now. I had to write this out. I just genuinely had to. and to top it all of, he my bias. Like a huge one. The first one. This had to be done you know. This is going to be so me-biased im sorry. i hope you can imagine yourself in this too.

Originally posted by wugalaxy

  • If Kris is your boyfriend please let me take the honour to say - you lucky lucky little dumpling. Also. He’s going to take full advantage of that and also call you ‘little dumpling’ or cute names like ‘lil one’ ‘pea pod’ ‘momo?’ i dont know something along those lines. Have you seen how this boy names his pets (rourou, which is also what his family used to cal him when he was little)? I’m pretty sure you’re going to get named somewhat similarly.
  • Yi Fan is a super hardworker and too busy at that. I haven’t seen the boy give himself a break since 2014 tbh so that means you’ve got to be awfully close to him (and for a long time) before you can even think about dating him. That doesn’t mean you have to be in the same field as him, I don’t think he’d go for an actress or a singer because he’s quite empathetic so he knows what kind of schedule the girl’s in for. So he’ll be against that. But then he’s also quite accepting you never know with this boy
  • But you know what? Here’s my favourite thing. Yi Fan is the kind of guy that you discuss a relationship with. You guys dating, would be a well-informed decision taken by both parties instead of the whole ‘asking out’ thing. No. One day you guys are probably meeting up for some tea somewhere and suddenly you bring up how both of you have liked each other for a while and you’re pretty compatible and you’ve been doing pretty well with the contact thing for all these years, it shouldn’t be that hard to date right? He’s going to nod along and think about it (and overthink about it atleast for 10 months) before he says “Hmm. I’ve been wanting to ask you about the same thing. Should we try it?”
  • Only after a week do you realise what just went down. So you end up texting him. “Wait. So you mean… you and me… we’re dating now?”

Originally posted by i-growl-growl-growl

  • Sassy and cool kris will make a comeback then. With a cool text like “We were dating about a year back, but I just wanted you to bring up the conversation first. All of our friends already think we are going out.” And that’s when you suddenly understand why EVERYONE ALWAYS PAIRS YOU UP WITH HIM during all the awkward games and why his mother is extra nice to him and why all his friends are so nice to you.
  • You’re going to be in touch with his mom long before you guys go out because you’re dating your best friend and you and aunty are going to have loads to talk about.
  • Him working. How he sleeps. How he was as a child. The worst moment would be when aunty feels extremely guilty about having him grow up alone in Canada and you try to comfort her and Kris watches silently from the kitchen door and he can’t help but feel so lucky that he’s got such a kind, warm hearted and understanding girl. Not to mention, he’s probably going to join the hug very soon.
  • (A/N: So i’ve grown up a lot like kris, always moving houses as a kid and thus never having stable friends until the age of like 13 but then i moved out of the country again at 15 so lol thats a joke) SUCH A HUGE NEED TO TRAVEL WHEN STRESSED. When it’s been a while and his schedule has gotten too much he’s going to want to pack his bags and sort of just leave. he doesn’t care where or when or how far, he just wants to go out and fee invisible for a while. So many roadtrips and treks and standing atop mountains looking down at the world being tiny.
  • “I guess we’re all insignificant to the Universe.”
  • “But you’re galaxy fanfan. im pretty sure you count as a galaxy to the universe.”
  • Him staring at you, and glaring at you for the rest of the trip, for ruining his awesome philosophical moments.

Originally posted by yourtypicalasianfangirl

  • This man can sing, dance (?) cook, rap, SEW. You think you’re the wife? No not really. All the nephews and nieces, probably your own kid, will love him more.
  • Oh god have you seen him with kids? It’s adorable. Whenever you feel like you’re falling a little out of love (you think it’s impossible but guys its the normal course of a relationship) just put this giant dork around kids and feel yourself falling in love all over again. He doesn’t treat them like breakable dolls. He plays with them, jokes with them, rolls on the ground with them and gets his hands dirty playing clay or painting with them. But oh god the best part is when he talks to you at night about the kid he spent the day with and how they had a beautiful personality and he says, “the best part is probably watching them grow as a person, isn’t it Y/N?” and you realise that’s your favourite part too. Especially watching fanfan grow.

Originally posted by yourtypicalasianfangirl

  • This long noodle loves to cuddle. Only when its just the two of you in the house though. Because he’s majorly working in China now, he finds a lot of time to be home and whenever he’s got a “home-day” he calls you up immediately and you show up for your date dressed in the most comfiest clothes you could find - sweats. You guys just spend the day in, making each other listen to the new songs you’ve found or this amazing movie you just HAVE to watch or searching each other on the internet and playing with rourou and just cuddling. so much cuddling.
  • He’d ask you to move in with him really well into the relationship because it’s just more practical. Atleast this way, he gets more time with you because he always has to come home - to you.
  • The idea of home means so much to you both because Kris is someone who has moved around a lot. He is the kind of person to understand that a home can be a pretty important thing but it’s never a place, its a person, its a feeling. With you in his house, at 6 AM in the morning when he has to leave for work but your day starts a little late and he gets back into bed for “5 more mins” and buries his face into the crook of your neck - that’s home.
  • When he’s tired and you’re tired but you guys still decide to cook for yourself instead of ordering in (because you’ve done that so much) and he sets the table while you finish up the brownies in the oven. It’s too much work but you guys deserved it after a long day. So the three of you, or four (including mama Fan) sit around the table chit chatting about random things - that’s home.
  • Marriage is super important to him and his MOTHER MUST APPROVE. This child puts a lot of importance for family, he’s always been pushed into the caretaker, breadwinner role early on in life so obviously family shouldn’t be a new thing to deal with, it should be a respite.

Originally posted by vvu-yi-fan

  • I hope he gets an amazing and kind and caring wife that talks to him and shares her opinions and worries about him. I hope she can take him away from his work when needed, and get him to focus back on it when needed, I hope she has an amazing job that she’s passionate about,  hope she inspires him. I hope his mom loves her and i really do hope he finds a home in her and understands that though she may be his wife, she’s also his best friend.
  • I just have a lot of good wishes for this man. He deserves all the good things in life.
  • The entire chinese entertainment industry will love you, not because you’re fanfan’s wife/gf, but because you’re probably an amazing person yourself.

Originally posted by vvu-yi-fan

  • UMMM. ABOUT THE SEX. HMM. You slip into the sex mode like two kitties that fight. One look and boom - in the bed/ against the counter/ on the sofa. anywhere as long as no one’s watching
  • You think this boy’s clumsy hahahahahah he knows what he’s upto. He’ll kiss the bottom of your neck and trail his fingers against your waist. He knows your body pretty well by now and knows the exact amount of touches, and where to place them, to get your riled up within minutes.
  • After that though, there will be plenty of against the wall make out sessions. You try to pin him against the wall and make out like crazy but “Lil one what are you trying to do? You’ll break my neck this way.”
  • I’m sorrry but he’ll be on top most of the time but thats not to say it wont be fun.
  • The first year or so will just be you guys being the ultimate domestic couple to the outside world, and the most horniest of fucks inside the house.
  • You’re cooking and he spanks your butt. “KRIS. THAT WAS UNCALLED FOR.”
  • That is a call. That means. you. me. bed. now.
  • Also, I feel like kris would be the kind of idiot to spank your butt when you’re 50 and your kids are back for spring break and he’d still think “that’s my sexy girl” and the kids will collectively groan, but oh god youre a blushing mess
  • For all the tough times in his life, I hope Yi Fan’s girlfriend is like a breath of fresh air for him. So that he is reminded of the fact that the universe does not, in fact, hate him.
  • Also. So much teasing about what his real name is. “What do i call you though? Kris? Kris wu? Wu Yi Fan?Li Jia Heng? Galaxy fanfan? Xiao Fei? Tower of pisa? WHAT WHAT DO I CALL YOU?”

I gave myself feels but thats ok this is fanfan i give myself feels everyday either way.


Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: 1757

Warnings: kind of angsty

A/N: This is kind of based on my own prom (and how I wish it turned out). Long story short: I’ve liked a guy for four and a half years. He ended up taking another girl to prom. I had to sit next to this girl in AP Stat class for half a semester the year before and listen to her talk about how much she liked him every day. 

PS Thank you to @chibiakuma for suggesting I write about a masquerade prom (which is what my prom was)

You looked in the mirror as you sighed in awe. Your hair was absolutely perfect, and your makeup made you look like a movie star. The most amazing part of your ensemble was the long, gorgeous, white formal gown. It had a slightly poofy skirt, gold accents on the top, and four small slits along the waist.

“Oh my goodness! You look like an angel,” Wanda smiled from behind, pulling you out of your trance.

Giggling, you replied, “Yeah, for once I look like a proper, pretty girl.”

“No,” the woman shook her head. “You are always gorgeous, but right now you have confidence.”

“If that were true, then Nick would have noticed me by now…”

“[Y/N], you have had feelings for him for—what?—four years now? If he has not asked you out, he is an idiot. And you always say that he does not notice anything that is not some sort of weapon—the guy is freakily obsessed with those. You deserve someone who appreciates you and actually treats you like a lady.”

“He’s not an idiot…he’s actually really smart. He uses all of his brains to focus just on killing machines…” you pleaded.

“[Y/N], he is taking another girl to this promenade. Read my lips. He. Is. An. Idiot.” She rolled her eyes in response.

“You know what?” you said to your reflection. “I’m going to walk in there like a freaking goddess and make him regret not having asked me.”

As you stepped out of the limo that Tony had insisted you ride, you looked around you in amazement. The entire tower was lit up with colorful lights and flowers, and various heroes and agents milled about outside the doors in their formal ware.

Several weeks ago, while the Avengers were lounging around the TV, the topic of prom came up when Tony was recalling one of his many “exploits” with the cheer captain. Out of nowhere, everyone had begun to discuss their own experiences, or, for most of them, lack of experiences.

Natasha and Wanda grew up in foreign countries while Thor had been born on a completely separate planet, so they never had the opportunity. Steve admitted that his high school had one, but due to the Great Depression, it was not extravagant (or enjoyable since he did not have a date). Clint and Bruce never felt the need to attend.

You had the worst encounter of all, though: When you were a junior, one of the cute seniors in your Lit class had asked you. After your initial surprised reaction, you had readily agreed. On the day of the event, everything began as normal. He gave you a corsage, you took pictures together, and the two of you had a wonderful dinner. The problems began when you arrived at the prom itself which was located in the ballroom of a fancy hotel. Not ten minutes after you got there, your date had excused himself, saying that he was going to get a drink, but he never came back. When you looked around for him after thirty minutes of waiting, you found him running down the hall with another girl towards the hotel rooms.

You refused to attend your own senior prom after that.

Once you had finished your story, Tony had jumped up from his seat and declared that they were going to have a “Do-Over-Prom with a theme and everything” and that everyone had to attend or else not be allowed to watch movies in the common room for a month.

So there you were on that fateful night, shaking slightly from the nerves that raked your body. You were certainly excited that you could finally move past the embarrassment from your high school prom with this, but it was still slightly terrifying—especially when you thought about what tactics you would use to make Nick finally notice you.

Before you stepped foot through the doors, you tied your gorgeous golden metal mask around your head (Tony thought that a masquerade would be much more exciting than a simple ball setting).

“Do not be nervous. Just take a deep breath,” Wanda whispered from behind you.

With a nod, you entered the tower.

Even though you knew it was absolutely cheesy, you honestly felt like you were having your princess moment as you descended the grand staircase. You felt as if everyone’s eyes were on you in admiration, although they probably were not. You felt like this was the one moment that was the highlight of your life thus far.

Without meaning to, your eyes wander across the crowd, hoping to spot Nick. He was standing with his beautiful date who was being completely unfair and not wearing a mask. They were speaking to Tony, and you suddenly had a brilliant idea. You slowly sauntered over to the group, exaggeratedly swishing your hips.

“Tony!” you called out in a sing-song voice. “This party is absolutely amazing!”

The three people turned around to look at you. On the inside, you wanted to curl up into a little ball, but on the outside, you continued to show your confident face—or what could be seen of it behind the mask.

“Thanks, beautiful,” he smirked.

You threw a glance and small smirk towards Nick, who appeared to be trying to figure out who you were, before spinning around and sashaying away. You were hoping that he had noticed you and started to realize his mistake for not having asked you out before. It was a little seductive scheme you had seen in a movie once, so you hoped it would work.

Throughout the rest of the night, you could have sworn that the man kept looking over at you, which made you feel really great for some reason. At the same time, though, it was aggravating that you were spending your special night worrying over a stupid guy. Needing to talk it out with a sane person, you walked over to the bar next to Natasha, who you are only able to recognize by her gorgeous red hair.

“Hey, Nat,” you sighed as you sat up on the barstool next to her.

“[Y/N]. How are you?” she replied nonchalantly.

“Hold on,” you said in shock. “You recognize me?”

“Super spy,” she pointed at herself. “Plus, you showed me a picture of what you’d be wearing beforehand.”

You giggled when you remembered that you had.

“Anyways, what’s wrong with you?” she asked.

Resting your head on your hands you grumbled, “Boys are stupid.”

“That they are,” she smirked in understanding. “Is it Nick again?”

You only nodded, and she continued, “[Y/N], I totally get that sometimes you have feelings for someone that you wish you didn’t. It happens. Love sucks. But you deserve a man, not a boy like Nick.”

“Oh, and who would you suggest is a man?” you asked while raising an eyebrow.

“Well,” Natasha slowly replied, “I’ve always kind of shipped you and Steve.”

“No way! He does not like me like that!” you said in shock.

There was an unreadable flicker in your friend’s eyes before she got up, and she told you that she was going to the restroom.

As you watched your friend walk away, your eyes fell on the most heart-breaking scene: Nick’s gorgeous date was pulling him by the arm towards a secluded broom closet while they both giggled.

It’s junior year all over again, you thought in dismay.

Not wanting anyone to see you cry, you immediately got up and looked for a place to hide. The balcony appeared to be unoccupied, so you decided that it was probably the best place to clear your head. Unfortunately, before long, you heard the door to the building open and shut, signaling an unwanted guest.

“[Y/N]?” a soft voice called.

In response, you turned to face the person while your form began to shiver. You were surprised by what you saw: it was Steve (you could clearly tell by his broad shoulders and beautiful blue eyes).

“How did you know it was me?” you shakily asked.

As he approached you, he sheepishly replied, “How could I not? You’re always the light of any room you enter. Anyways, why are you shivering? Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m just cold out here,” you lied.

He immediately took off his jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders. Because of his close proximity to you, he immediately saw the tears that were welling up in your eyes. Without saying a word, his hands reached behind your head and untied the ribbons of the mask on your face. When the metal piece was off, the super soldier’s eyes widened slightly at seeing your face.

You timidly asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Um, nothing. Anyway, how has your prom been?” he quickly changed the subject.

“Not really the best,” you mumbled.

“Same here,” he replied. “Hey, if you want, we can go inside, and…uh…. dance….I mean, if you don’t want to, I understand. I just thought we could maybe make this a little more bearable…”

“You know what? That actually sounds great.”

Steve quickly walked ahead of you and held the door open as you went inside.

“Thank you. You’re such a gentleman,” you giggled.

On your way to the dance floor, though, you heard a familiar voice call out to you.

“[Y/N]! Hey! You look really great tonight. I did not recognize you with that mask on earlier,” Nick said.

You did not see his date anywhere nearby.

“Anyway,” he continued, “I was wondering if you wanted to go get a drink or something from the bar. There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

You looked over at Steve who gave you a small, encouraging smile, though you could see the clouds behind his eyes.

In a split second, you said something you never thought you would:

And with that, you grabbed the captain’s hand and continued to walk to the dance floor.

After dancing the rest of the night with Steve, you finally realized that the two of you were the only ones left.

“So,” he whispered, “was this prom better than the one from junior year?”

Before you could stop yourself, you reached up and pressed your lips to his. The kiss was soft and slow, and it felt like your lips were made for each other. When you finally pulled apart, you noticed Wanda and Natasha smirking at you out of the corner of your eye.

“This was so much better,” you finally answered him.

X-Files Fic: Out of the Darkness

Rating: Mature
Timeline: Darkness Falls
Summary: Part Nine of the “Early On” Series.  A last vestige of Scully’s relationship with Ethan threatens her chances of happiness with Mulder.

Part One: Evidence Against
Part Two: Ask Again Later
Part Three: Fear of Flying
Part Four: Rumor Has It
Part Five: From What I’ve Tasted of Desire
Part Six: My Lover Stands on Golden Sand
Part Seven: Personal Physician
Part Eight: Remotely Plausible

Scully sits on the edge of her bathtub, her head hanging down between her knees, trying to take slow, measured breaths.  Her head is swimming, and she feels as though, at any moment, she may vomit what little breakfast she’s been able to manage.  She tells herself that the nausea doesn’t mean anything, that it’s just because she’s upset, that it’s too early for a little upset stomach to mean… she can’t complete the thought, not even in her mind.

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Ser Ingrid Faulkner

Born in 9:01 Dragon, Ingrid Faulkner belonged to a farming family who tended to the fields outside Lothering.

At the age of fifteen, young Ingrid felt compelled to do more than what a farmer’s life could offer. She had a strong arm and even stronger sense to safeguard others and within a year, Ingrid successfully appealed to the village Chantry and secured a future in Templar Order. Despite their initial concern, her parents agreed to her wish, and any doubts of her candidacy among the local recruits were subdued as the Faulkner girl wrestled five boys twice her size into submission. 

Three years later, she did not hesitate to pledge her life to the service of the Maker and took the Lyrium  draught that would bind her to the Order. Finally feeling like she was doing something worthwhile, she took to her new post at Kinloch Hold in stride. In 9:26 Dragon, her dedication impressed the Knight-Commander to such an extent that she was granted the rank of Knight-Captain. “One of the best feelings in my life,” Ingrid penned in a letter for her parents. “I will honor the Order and do my best with the responsibilities given to me.“ 

The best days of her life had yet to come, but so did the worst.

In 9:30 Dragon, the Fifth Blight reared from the Kocari Wilds. Ferelden fell to shambles following the king’s death at Ostagar. Yet, the Circle faced a war of its own within its sanctified walls: Uldred, a senior enchanter of the Circle, attempted a coup with blood mages. Countless lives fell to the madness under the attack. Then Knight-Captain Ingrid had been one of less than two dozen Templars who managed to take refuge on the first level. It wasn’t until the Warden, soon to be renown as the ‘Hero of Ferelden’, cut through the mass of demonic forces and slew Uldred would they be saved.

Following the Archdemon’s death (and thus the end of the Fifth Blight), Ingrid and her fellow Templars began the long effort to restore the Circle back to it’s former glory.  Still, the horrors of the abominations running rampant remained fresh. Rebuilding was something Ingrid was thankful for, so she admitted to a colleague years later. Lothering fell to darkspawn during the Blight; though some of the populace had managed to escape before the horde marched through, her parents were not so fortunate. In those weeks of mourning and rebuilding, Ingrid also contemplated the horrors she had faced. Although the demons and abominations seemed the most daunting, what unnerved her the most was the lack of Templar response. They, the last line of the defense, had failed when they were needed most, and this truth hardened her resolve. Ingrid knew that the Order wouldn’t be able to handle another crisis like that alone. They couldn’t rely on another savior like the Warden, now the ‘Hero of Ferelden’, to do their job for them. Ingrid swore never to stand at the sidelines again. Not when she was capable for action herself. 

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Personal Bully (Part 2)

The Maze Runner Imagine (Gally)

Part 1

Requested: yes!

Note: Oh my god guys I’m so sorry for being so unactive the last two weeks or so but I got some things to get done for school and I discovered the serie Once Upon A Time. I watched four seasons in two weeks but anyway… I’m back now and I’m back to writing imagines and I missed you and I’m so sorry. Blame it on Hook and Peter Pan

After some quick goodbyes and a kiss on the cheek from Fry I headed off to my room. I was accompanied by the protesting cries of Gally. Honestly, I couldn’t wait to see him again in a week. “Get ready,” I thought slightly grinning. “The tables are going to turn.”


“Get the shuck up! Duty calls!” Stomping, clapping, screaming and laughing I entered Gally’s room in the early morning hours. Being the keeper of the builders had its advantages. 

My never lying gut feeling told me it was about four o’clock in the morning. Perfect time to get out of bed and get some things done like making me breakfast. 

“Do I have to say it again?” I grabbed the thin fabric of his blanket which he clutched onto like his life depended on it. “No.” 

“Good,” one quick move and it hung over my shoulder. “Then raise your fat ass and follow me.” “No.” 

“No? Oh, that’s a shame because when I told you to shut up and leave, you didn’t fulfil my wish and now I’m not going to do that either.” “I know what you’re seeking after,” he grumbled. His voice sounded muffled because of his pillow. “I’m listening.” 

He shifted cumbersomely to be able to see my face. Our gazes locked. “Revenge.” “Don’t be ridiculous. Do I look like someone who is satisfied with something like revenge?” “You look like someone who would enjoy a short trip to the slammer,” he replied and brought himself into a straight position. “And now give me back my blanket before I carry you there on my own.” 

“Nothing but hot air,” smiling triumphantly I backed away from his bed. “See you later, Gal.”


Ah, breakfast. The most important meal of the day and another good opportunity to give Gally the payback he shucking deserved. What a waste of eggs and ham. 

“Wouldn’t it be better if you would eat your food instead of throwing it at him?” Newt suggested carefully while taking another strip of bacon from my hand. “It doesn’t seem like it bothers him very much.” “Surely it bothers him. Everything I do bothers him,” I hissed through gritted teeth and let go of my egg. It hit his forehead. My best toss yet. 

“That’s enough,” he pushed back his chair. “Oh, giving up already? You’re weak, Gally. I made it much longer.” “Shut up,” he snapped pushing his way past me. “I’m disappointed.” “Couldn’t care less.” “Payback’s a bitch!” I screamed after him making Newt and Zart chuckle. 

“If you’re still alive by the end of this week, he really must like you,” Newt let out his breath. “What?” Zart winked. “You’ll see soon enough.” Okay. Should I be afraid or concerned about my life?


Well, until now I gave Gally a tit-for-tat response for everything he did to me in the past week. Just one thing was missing. The scene he caused me at the bonfire. Unfortunately there wasn’t one this week or for the next two. But that didn’t matter. My clever little mind had another idea and it could be possible that Minho played an important role in it. But we got to that part later. 

At the moment I had to concentrate on braiding my hair. Of course I wanted to look good for Gally… uhm I meant Minho. I studied myself in the mirror. Something was missing, but what? Oh, got it. A flower. To be exact a whole crown. Yes, my life was quite boring some days. I also made one for Chuck but he refused to wear it. I rolled my eyes at the thought of him. Boys. Good keyword. 

A knock on my door caught my attention. Minho was here. I smoothed down my dress the creators sent up a few days ago. Like they knew I had something planed. 

“Ready for our dinner, lady?” Minho held out his arm. “You mean ready for the worst prank ever? Yes, I am ready,” smiling I linked our arms. “Then what are we waiting for?” “Nothing.” My stomach was prickling like I ate some caterpillars. The thought made me cringe. Gross. 

“Everything’s okay?” Minho eyed me suspicious. “I’m fine. Don’t stop moving.“ “Aye, aye captain.” I shook my head laughing. “Don’t call me that.” “Why not?” “Because, ugh you know.” 

A grin appeared on his lips. “Is it what I think it is? You’re blushing.” Automatically my hands shot to my cheeks. “Liar.” “For a moment you believed it.” “Never in your wildest dreams.” 

There wasn’t more time for him to shoot back a comment because we reached Frypan’s kitchen and thus our well-laid table. Fry really did his best. 

“How lovely,” I raved as I inspected the wonderful smelling candle. Its little flame lighted up the inner circle of the table. The gentleman he was, Minho moved the chair for me. “Thank you.” “We want it to look real, don’t we?” “Sure.” 

It may look real but it surely didn’t feel like it. Minho was like my older brother. To be honest, it felt really weird looking him in the eyes like I adored him. We were just playing, acting, to hopefully earn Gally’s attention so the main part of my prank would work. 

“Are you nervous?” “No it’s limited.” My short answer betrayed my lie. I was nervous as hell. Everything could go wrong. 

Minho grabbed my hand from across the table. “It’s going to be alright. You can do it.” As if on cue Fry hit his pot with his knife. Our secret signal. Gally was on his way. 

“Okay, stay cool,” I warned the dark haired boy. “Shouldn’t I be the one giving you this instruction?” He mocked me. The grip around his fingers tightened until his knuckles turned white but he kept a straight face. “Slinthead,” I muttered. 

“Wait,” Fry turned back into our direction. “False alarm.” “God, don’t do that again,” I let out the breath I was holding unconsciously for the last few seconds. 

“Did he look over?” Minho wanted to know. The cook nodded. “Yes and he didn’t look delightful.”


Time flew by. Hour after hour passed and before we knew it the stars started to shine one by one. 

“It’s time to go. Not much longer and the doors will close.” “That’s exactly what they should do,” an evilly grin divided my lips. “I don’t want to side with him but that’s probably the worst prank you could play on him.” 

I shrugged my shoulders “Too late. Chuck and Jeff invested a lot of time into making that bloody puppet. Now we’re also going to use it.” “You’re the boss. Just tell me what to do.” 

“I already told you a hundredth of times but alright, one last time. You’ll go and talk to Gally while I put the puppet in place.” “At the entrance of the maze?” “Yes and when the doors start to close you’ll call attention to it. Understood?” He nodded. “Gally won’t have enough time to ‘save me’ and that’s it. He’ll be crashed right in front of our eyes. Right in front of my eyes.” 

“You’re cruel. But if he starts crying don’t dare to pin the whole thing on me,” Minho rose his forefinger. “I just helped you.” “You’re in as deep as I am. And now let’s go.”


I sneaked into my room, grabbed my lookalike and ran, after ten gazes to every side of the Glade, to the maze doors. They already had begun to rumble. 

In the distance I could spot the two dark silhouettes of Gally and Minho. The rumble sounds gained volume. Wind blew through my hair. The time had come. Hidden behind a nearby tree I watched the metres disappear. 

Twenty. Eighteen. Fifteen. 

Calls echoed through the Glade. Boys sprinted towards the doors. 

Ten metres. 

Among them were Gally and Minho. The latter looked out for me but he couldn’t spot me in the crowed. Well, probably because I was currently lying on the ground in the maze waiting for my sure end to come. 

Gally pushed his way forward. “Move!” Everyone obeyed. 

Three metres. 

Even if he wanted to save me, he would never break one of the three golden rules. 

Two metres. 

“No! (Y/N)!” 

Two and a half. 

My eyes widened as he took a determining step forward. 


The doors closed in front of his face and crushed ‘my body’. Silence fell over the Gladers as they stared at the stone walls until Gally’s booming voice wrecked it. “No, no! (Y/N), shuck!” “Oh my god,” Newt whispered. He was, of course, initiated. Chuck and Jeff shared a glance. Both of them bit back a laugh. 

Suddenly there was a hand on my mouth dragging me back to the ground. “Hush, it’s just me.” “Minho! You idiot scared the clunk out of me,” I hissed more than relieved. “No,” Gally repeated for the fourth time already. “Seems like he can’t believe it,” the runner rolled his eyes. “Maybe I should send everybody to bed so you can tell him the truth.” “Just a few more minutes. I like to hear his desperate voice.” “(Y/N).” “All right, all right. I’m on my way.” 

“Boys. Bedtime,” Minho stepped into the middle of the crowd. “Leave this poor guy some time alone. I assume that he has quite some stuff to think about,” he patted Gally’s trembling shoulder. “Night man.” “Oh god, what have I done?” Gally rested his head in his hands. 

In thoughts I counted to ten till I decided to leave my hiding place and answer his question. “A lot. You did a lot.” Startled he jumped up. His face was pale like he just saw a ghost. Oh… 

“(Y/N), but…” Blankly he pointed at the closed doors first and then at me. “Why are you here? You should be…” “Crashed by gigantic stone walls?” “I wanted to say dead but you hit it pretty good.” 

It seemed like he had overcome the first shock. “Why the shuck did you do that?” “To score you off,” I admitted feeling slightly guilty. “I didn’t expect that it’ll affect you that deeply.” “Sure it would affect me that deeply!” He almost shouted. 

“And why is that? You really must hate me. I mean you pulled one prank and one tease after another the last few weeks.” “Does it matter? You’re with Minho anyway.” It had worked. “Minho and I aren’t a thing, it was just part of the plan and yes, it does matter.” 

“Well, guess I’m not good at expressing my feelings then,” he shrugged it off like Frypan had just told him the daily meal. “Your feelings? For me?” “No, for Newt you dumbass.” “Sorry if it’s hard to conceive,” I rolled my eyes. 

And then I took the deepest breath I’ve ever taken to arm myself for the worst preachment he’ll ever get in his life. “You are the biggest shucking shuck-face I’ve…” I didn’t make it far. His lips suddenly crashing on mine interrupted me. 

Not that I’d care that much. It was definitely the better way to get out of breath and yelling never helped on Gally anyway. The gross caterpillars in my stomach returned. They made me smile. 

“What?” Gally’s voice was barely more than a whisper as he leaned his forehead against mine, breathing heavily. “Just thinking about your stupidity. You could have told me earlier,” my smile turned into a grin. 

“Oh, are we getting cheeky now?” “Yes.” “Well, then I think I have to banish you.” “For getting cheeky?” My mouth dropped open indignantly. “For making me fall in love with you and for playing that nasty trick on me. You’re staying the night in the slammer.” “But, Gal…” 

He shook his head. “What goes around, comes around, love. Now it’s your turn.” “I shucking hate you.” “I hate you too.”

onegirlintheback  asked:

If you are still taking prompts can I request a daemon AU? Sterek yo! With Kira with something cute that will eff your day up.

Sorry, but I’m afraid there’s not much Kira in here. I tried to fit her in, but then the fic got away from me… her daemon’s a moon bear named Kosho, though. :)

(8/10 prompts for my 1k followers thingy!)

Stiles knows that Arimir isn’t exactly threatening, alright? Not likeDerek’s bulky Tamaskan, Cyra, or Kira’s huge moon bear, Kosho, or even his dad’sGerman shepherd, Ionnia.

Stiles could use a little threatening right now.

“What a cutie pie,” What’s-Her-Name says. (It’s either that or Stile calls her Villian-of-the-Week, but he’s not quite ready to accept that he has to deal with a villain every week, even though it’s been over three years since Scott was bitten.)

Arimir narrows her small, beady eyes and looks like she’s sorely tempted to bite the woman, give her a piece of her mind. Stiles is proud of her.

“I’d touch her, but she probably has rabies,” What’s-Her-Name muses, taking a step back – thank god. Not that Stiles appreciates the comment about Arimir being rabid. He has to settle for glaring at What’s-Her-Name, because his mouth is firmly duct taped shut, though. “Now, I just need to take a little bit of your blood – ”

A large, dark figure barrels through the door. Stiles would say he’s never been more grateful to see Cyra in his life, but, quite honestly, last week’s incident with the SoCal pack was probably worse than this.

Not that he’s not happy to see What’s-Her-Name unconscious and the knife knocked out of her hand.

Of course, that doesn’t mean he’s grateful for how roughly Derek rips the duct tape off his face.

“What the hell was that for?” Stiles snaps, rubbing the tender, reddened skin around his mouth. “I totally didn’t do anything to deserve that this time.”

“You got yourself kidnapped,” Derek growls, like that’s somehow Stiles’ fault.

“That’s victim blaming,” Stiles protests, although he’s not really paying that much attention to Derek anymore, instead focusing on picking the lock on Arimir’s tiny cage. A chill travels through his body as he remembers the icy, painful sensation of the witch’s unwelcome hands on her.

“You need to stop,” Derek snaps, making Stiles look over at him in confusion.

“Stop what?” he asks, petting Arimir and letting her climb up into his hair.

“Snooping around where you’re not supposed to be, threatening werewolves, wandering around the woods after dark,” Derek answers, as if that’s supposed to be obvious.

“Hey, we went into that magic store because we were trying to get that stupid book on binding spells for you,” Arimir snaps, her fur bristling. “We were trying to help!”

Derek glares at her. Arimir never really got the hang of letting her human do the talking for her. Not that Stiles minds. He never really got the hang of not addressing other people’s daemons himself.

“You can’t protect yourself,” Derek says, turning his attention back to Stiles. “You’re going to get yourself killed, because Arimir’s a fucking squirrel.

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A Music Affair - Chapter 11

Here it is, guys! The last chapter of this fic. I’m really sad to say goodbye to it, but I’m also happy that you all seem to like it. Thank you so, so much for giving me your amazing feedback and asking for more chapters, it really inspired me. Also, thanks a lot to @jia911 for proof reading this fic and to @jordan202 for helping me with my writing. You two are the best and I couldn’t have done this without you. Anyway, I hope you all like this final chapter :)

Link to Chapter 10

Owen was so confused by Amelia suddenly talking to him that he just stood there for a few seconds, looking at her. Moving to one side, he finally let her enter and watched as she quickly sat on his bed, hiding her shaky hands.
He didn’t know what to think. Owen had never seen anyone like that and, although he was still mad at Amelia, seeing her in that state made him really upset.

“What happened?” He asked her.

“First of all, I wanna apologize to you…” She looked at him, speaking honestly. “For the way I acted and how I rejected and cursed at you so many times. I’m really sorry. I would say it was the drugs talking, but it wasn’t. Not all of it. I was angry and I actually meant some of what I said. But now I see that I was totally wrong and I regret everything. I shouldn’t have done that to anyone, but mostly you.”

Owen nodded, accepting her apologies, but didn’t actually feel like he could trust her just yet.

She would sometimes look down and take deep and slow breaths. Owen didn’t know if the way she was physically was because of the drugs or the absence of it.

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Love & Insecurities

Title: Love & Insecurities

Genre: AU, Fluff, Angst

Word Count: 12, 163

Warnings: None!

Description: In which Dan and Phil have been online dating for a while now and are just now meeting for their first date and it’s terrible (according to Phil, that is).

Author’s Note: Oh, what’s the point anymore, honestly? (Please remember that this is fiction.)

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imaginationeyes  asked:

Do you have a recommend for some really really good sterek fanfiction?


i’ve actually been meaning to do a sterek rec post for a while, so thanks for the excuse :u

these are in no particular order, and they’re all fics i consider must-reads

rats’ alley by auburn. 101k. postapoc, zombie-esque pandemic, actual wolf werewolves, road trip, pack fic.
Four years after season two, after the pack has solidified and are attending school in Southern California, civilization crashes to a halt that kills most modern electronics. Derek orders the rest of the Hale Pack to either wait in LA or return to Beacon Hills, while he heads to Mexico to retrieve Stiles. What should have been a few days’ trip turns into an odyssey contending with human horror, natural disasters and a lethal disease that may infect werewolves too. Derek and Stiles are forced into a closer partnership and an honest relationship even while they have to face that there is no promise of safety at their destination. Not for them, not for the Pack, and not for humanity.

No one guessed the domino fall of civilization would end with a howling from the forest when it all crashed to a halt.

tiny houses by ohmyjetsabel. 77k. mpreg, realistic consequences of teenage pregnancy, slow burn, magic, pack fic.
So this is what Stiles does. He lies in Scott’s bed and waits for Melissa to say she’s found someone to get it out of him, to cure him of the wrongness and the bad, and he dreams.
God, he dreams.
He dreams of fire and swollen bellies and that scene in Alien, of giving birth to jackals through his urethra, the whole horrific nine yards. His head is a terrible place to be, he can’t imagine his stomach is much better, why anyone would want to put a thing inside of it.

what i did on my summer vacation by grimm. 118k. the-whole-town-is-pack fic, magic stiles, alpha derek, supernatural culture, stiles is a college student.
There’s something weird about Beacon Hills that Stiles can’t quite put his finger on. The way everyone in town knows his name the day he arrives. The way they insist the melancholic howling that echoes through the forest every night is just a dog. The way his dad denies getting a dog, even though Stiles comes home to find one sprawled across his bed, some big black thing whose eyes gleam red in the right light. The way that massive oak tree out in the woods vibrates under his touch, pulsing with sickly life.
There’s something weird going on in this town, and Stiles is determined to get to the bottom of it.

starts with f, ends with u by remainnameless. 115k. slow burn, stiles has ptsd, fake boyfriends, derek protecting stiles, also contains rafael mccall/stiles, rafael is an abuser and pedophile, stiles is a rape and abuse survivor. heed the warnings on the fic.
An alternate (but compliant) canon wherein Rafael McCall and Stiles hook up pre-werewolf shenanigans. When McCall comes back to Beacon Hills, it quickly spirals out of Stiles’ control. Derek becomes his sole confidant, his anchor, and maybe something more.

no homo by remainnameless. 84k. college fic, brofucking, frat boys, complicated sexualities, watching porn together, lots of consensual sex while buzzed/high.
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.

the worst thing i ever did by remainnameless. 41k. tenuous-friends-with-benefits, lots of sex, stiles is beautifully callous, strained stiles+sheriff relationship.
Stiles would say his relationship with Derek is about fifteen percent empty threats, thirty percent sass, ten percent avoiding violence together, and five percent eyebrows.
If anyone asked, he would say the remaining forty percent is mutual orgasms.
It’s a good thing no one ever asks.

by any other name by entanglednow. 33k. amnesia fic, supernatural-style monster-hunting and roadtripping and motel-living, witches, my heart hurts.
He doesn’t know his name, he doesn’t know who he is, and neither does the werewolf he’s on the run with. But he’s pretty sure they hunt monsters, because they seem to be really good at it.

dilf by twentysomething. 30k. cozy fic, derek is scott and jackson’s dad, stiles is their teacher, no werewolves, seriously cute, i read this every christmas, and when i have panic attacks.
Today is Scott’s first day of kindergarten and Derek is terrified.

hide of a life war by etharei. 26k. stiles is a fucking badass, stiles and the sheriff are hostages, parallel storytelling, derek is the alpha.
“We have received confirmation that there is a hostage situation in progress at a warehouse compound two hours out of Los Angeles, following a multiple-vehicle pileup on Highway 101 this morning…”
The one in which Stiles has lived to (legal) adulthood and, along the way, become a bit of a badass himself.

not as described by febricant. 81k. slavefic, werewolf slavery is institutionalized, stiles is a professional tech geek, stiles owns derek, slow burn, ridiculously delicious slow burn.
Stiles may have made a huge mistake.

once upon a december by m_leigh. 16.5k. anastasia au, stiles is a horrible person, i love this fic because stiles is a horrible person, derek has touch issues.
Scott would not have thought, years ago in the orphanage, that being befriended by Stiles would ultimately mean sneaking into the Archduke of Russia’s residence in Paris in order for Stiles to chase after the homeless man of his dreams, but he’s gotten very good, over the years, at rolling with the punches.

stand fast in your enchantments by devildoll. 77k. stiles and derek are hostages, magic stiles, feral derek, nonverbal communication, recovery fic, pack fic, working through relationship issues.
Stiles knew damn well what a pissed-off wolf sounded like, and every hair on the back of his neck was telling him that somewhere in this room was a very pissed-off werewolf.
An AU in which Derek is feral, Stiles is magical, and they eat a lot of fast food.

the importance of turning around three times before lying down by otter. 31k. derek spends most of the time in wolf form, stiles finds and sort of adopts him, laura is alive, stiles is a teenager like hella.
It’s like this dog has walked out of all of Stiles’ childhood dreams and into the real world just because Stiles wanted it hard enough. He is the most awesome dog ever, and he and Stiles have a bond. A deep, unbreakable bond because this animal is his soul mate, obviously. Now he just has to convince the dog of that.

there is a brotherhood by minusoneday. 21k. college fic, frat boys, prank wars, i laughed my fucking ass off at this fic, geeky references.
So far, college has taught Stiles three things:
1) Eight am classes are cruel and unusual and should be avoided at all costs, even if it means having to enroll in something truly hideous instead, like Econ 101.
2) Dorm security is just as tight as Stiles’ orientation leader had promised it would be, and the dude guarding Scott’s dorm in particular does not respond well to bribes.
3) Mrs. McCall clearly had no clue what she was talking about when she’d insisted that Scott and Stiles needed to branch out and room with strangers, so it’s all her fault that Scott ended up with a total dick of a roommate and Stiles got stuck all the way across campus with some guy who has a girlfriend two towns over and is thus never around.
Or, the one where pledge brothers Stiles and Scott start a prank war with Derek Hale’s fraternity.

this might hurt by whiskey_in_tea. 9k. stiles is cursed, derek figures it out, stiles can’t fall in love, or be fallen in love with, but they damn well try.
Back in Beacon Hills, Derek starts to let himself look. At first it’s just a habit, scanning over Stiles like he does Lydia and Allison, checking for injury and anger and discontent. But as the weeks go on, days bleeding into days, he starts to notice what’s happening: Stiles’ face is getting dim again, bland and faraway, not just his expression but his features themselves. Derek remembers him in Yosemite, the distracting curve of his mouth and the warm amber of his eyes, the slope of his neck and the fall of his spine, how he was mesmerizing, sitting drinking coffee in the clear morning light. Now he looks like he’s been wrapped up in a fine layer of gauze, a bad photocopy of himself, blurred at the edges.
OR: The Only Way I Can Understand People Not Wanting to Jump Stiles’ Bones is Literally Magic, or FUCK YOU TEEN WOLF.

have a mind to just let my whole body go by verity. 14k. mpreg, omegaverse, emotional support, cutie boyfriends, supernaturals are known.
Derek’s a pregnant omega werewolf; Stiles and Erica do steady business as the only supernaturally qualified omega midwives in five counties. Clearly, it’s meant to be.

you are the moon by skoosiepants. 10k. derek is a werewolf in wolf form, werewolves are common knowledge, stiles is derek’s safety blanket, werewolf culture.
Stuff Stiles doesn’t like to deal with first thing: hot, moist dog breath in his face, a cuddly werewolf creepifying his perfectly normal morning wood with shades of bestiality, and his dad holding his service revolver up against the skull of his bedmate, never mind the fact that his bedmate could possibly be a vicious unhinged rogue omega.


Kristine gathers all of the ladies’ finalists - me, Kristen, Amber, and Jessica - along with the judges in the center of the ring. Charles, who’s been my coach throughout the weekend, is there as well.

“There is no cap in finals,” Kristine says, referring to the eight-point mercy rule that was in effect in pools. “Whoever has the most points at the end wins.”

“So is the break taken at a minute-thirty, or after three minutes?” I ask.

“Each round is three minutes.”

“Charles,” I say, turning to face him, “I’m going to need some water.”

He goes off in search of a bottle of water, but it is not so easily found and Kristine isn’t wasting any time. I’m in my corner, Kristen, my opponent is in her’s. Kristine’s already asking if the table and judges are ready. There’s no way Charles will be back in time, but I spot Tim across the ring.

“TIM!” I shout, through my mask. He runs over to my side, and two seconds later, I’m fighting for bronze.


It’s been four months since my last women’s tournament, and six weeks since my last open. Here I’ll be fighting women whom I’ve never seen fight before, and thus I have no idea what to expect. I’m going in with a new attitude - I’m not just looking to make it out of my pool here; I want to win the whole shebang.

It affects the way I fight. Somewhere in my first match I land a thrust, one that I’ve only landed once or twice in sparring before. It carries over - my first two pool fights are wins for me; they aren’t perfect, but they are clean and decidedly in my favor. Unlike in Pittsburgh, this time, when I see the openings, I’m able to take them.

My third pool fight, however, is another story. Jessica is fast, and unimpeded by the provided swords we are using. Everyone loses fights, but sometimes you just get beat, and that’s what happens here.


I want this so bad.

I can’t explain it any way other than - I’ve never in my life won anything on the merit of my own athletic talent or martial skill. I was always the kid that couldn’t make the team even in a year when more people made it than didn’t.

This isn’t supposed to be about the medals or competition against anyone or anything other than myself, and yet to get a medal here would give me a sense of validation that’s been almost impossible to find elsewhere. This is my sixth tournament, and my fourth women’s one. I’m past the point of nerves threatening to undo everything, of wondering if I can do this. I know I can; now I need to prove it.


In my first elimination match, I’m up against Ashleigh, who I faced earlier in my pool. I know I won earlier, but I also know that it’s quite common to win a pool fight against someone and then lose to them in eliminations.

The last time I was in this situation, Jayson told me, before the fight, “Win here and you’ll be fighting for a medal.” This time I find Jayson and tell him, “that thing you told me before SoCal? Don’t say it here.”

This time I have no distractions. I don’t let my nerves get the better of me. You can ask me now to recap the fight, but three days and one Finnish death flu later, I am left hoping there’s video somewhere.

I’ve already done the math in my head - whatever happens in my next fight, I’ll be fighting for a medal Saturday afternoon.


The first round of our fight is evenly matched. I maintain a slight lead throughout, but I’m just one exchange away from being on the other end. I’m mostly fighting from the nach, as is my personal preference - this isn’t the time for experimentation - and to my advantage, as I start to notice patterns.

For once I can see openings, for once I can remember what the correct thing to do is when I’m supposed to do it. Nothing about this fight is easy, but there are chances for me to seize, and for once I’m seizing them.

The only problem? At the end of three minutes I’m exhausted, and there’s still another three minutes to go.

“Relax,” Tim says.

If only it was that easy.


My semi-final match has too many lead changes for me to remember, other than that I had an early lead, lost it, and very nearly regained it at the end.

It’s a challenging fight, as if to say that if you are going to fight for gold, you’d better earn every second of it. We go back and forth, in a three minute bout that seems like it’s taking sixty. Amber knows what she’s doing, and while I’m trying my best, tonight it’s not enough.

Amber will be going for gold or at worst settling for silver; I will have to earn a bronze or go home once again empty-handed.


In the next round, instead of succumbing to my exhaustion, I’m able to push past it. I start not just landing hits, but doing things I’ve never even done in sparring before now. About halfway through the second round of my fight with Kristen, I land a thrust to the neck. Despite my mask I can hear Tim’s shout from across the ring.

At about 2:45 I realize I have a five point lead. It’s not insurmountable, but it’s close. Don’t do anything stupid, I say, repeating myself as the clock winds down. And then, just like that, it’s over. I’ve won.


I thought I’d be overcome with emotion, but the only emotion I’m feeling right now is pure, unadulterated joy. Joy in the art, joy in my performance tonight, joy in the camaraderie and natural good feelings engendered by all of the women competitors this tournament. How recently was it where I would have just been happy with winning a match?

This isn’t the pinnacle; there’s much I need to work on, and that will start as soon as I am over this flu and can begin training again. There’s only three weeks until Shortpoint, and the schedule doesn’t let up until August.

Purpleheart has left me with a feeling of joy and accomplishment - and still there is a craving for so much more.

How My Family Got Through The Recession

I was born and raised in Smithers, a small, isolated town of about 5000 people in central British Columbia. I lived in an old bungalow with my parents and three older brothers. It was a typical, quiet little town where everyone knew each other, and everyone had an intrinsic sense of care and respect for each other. I lived a relatively normal life until 2007, when the recession came.

Canada wasn’t impacted as severely as the US but British Columbia was hit quite hard. Thus, my fragile, little town obviously felt the wrath, too. Lots of people started moving from Smithers in hopes of finding new and more sustainable jobs in bigger cities like Vancouver and Victoria. I loved my town so this was a bit disheartening to witness as a sheltered and naive 15-year-old. My parents simply explained to me that people were just eager to leave our then dying town for the sake of survival. Several of our neighbours even left without uttering a single goodbye, desperate to leave, shamelessly vanishing into thin air. At one point, someone we knew would move away almost every week. My parents adamantly chose to stay, unable to embrace the idea of leaving our way of life.

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My withdrawal letter to my university. I was asked to post this, so here it is.

Dear Dominican University,

  I am informing you that I am officially withdrawing from your establishment. Withdrawing from Dominican University is incredibly bittersweet for me, but it is something I must do for my own well being and happiness.

 When I chose Dominican during my senior year of high school I was excited for the new chapter of my life that was starting. I was eager to attend classes and make new friends. Everyone always tells me that college will be the best four years of my life, but unfortunately my first year of college at Dominican was the worst year of my life thus far.

 I chose Dominican because it seemed to have everything that I was looking for and more; small classes, great accessibility, friendly students, and a major I loved. I was so excited about this new era of my life, until I went to the orientation session over the summer. Those two days that gave me my first real taste of Dominican were the first sign that Dominican was not a positive place. At orientation we were paired into groups with student leaders. We had a lunch and I was the first to arrive to the lunch area. Out of all the students that were in those two days of orientation, not one came and sat by me. I already had my food and moving around is hard for me with my Cerebral Palsy, so I could not get up and move to find other people to try and sit with. Not only did I sit at a table and eat my lunch alone, but none of the leaders even came to check on me until the lunch was almost over and I had already spent it by my lonesome. As we moved onto other activities with our small groups and group leaders, no one in the groups talked to me, yet they all talked to each other. I would join in on conversations and I would be ignored…and not once did the group leaders do anything to help me out even though they knew I was being excluded and I told them this. After being completely left out by my new peers during my first Dominican experience, I was mortified to start classes. If I had experienced such hurtful and rude behavior from my future peers before classes had even begun, how was I supposed to be excited to attend classes in August? I should have saved myself the heartbreak and depression and used the orientation as a warning to not continue on with Dominican once classes started.

 That rainy day at the end of August 2014, my life would change forever. Even though orientation had gone so horribly for me, I decided I would not let one unfriendly and immature group of peers stop me from attending a school that I was oh so excited about. I attended my first day of classes with my head held high and the most optimistic attitude. After only two classes on my very first day of college, I knew that choosing Dominican had been the biggest mistake of my life. Even though I was terribly unhappy and sick over having to go to school everyday, I stuck with it. Even after my first week of classes and coming home everyday in tears, I kept telling myself “You have to do this. You are stronger than this. You are too tough to let ignorant people get to you. Don’t give up your dreams on a count of other people.” The things I went through everyday in class and the feelings I felt while enrolled at Dominican are feelings and events that I would never wish upon anyone. To preface this, I want to explain my condition a little bit better. I have Cerebral Palsy. I have had it since I was born and it is very noticeable. I use a walker to get around and the way that I walk is noticeably different than the way most people walk, but other than that, I am the same as everyone else. While I have gone through my entire life having people treat me differently or make mean comments based upon my condition, I have never been treated in such a way as I was at Dominican.

 My first semester I took 4 classes (two on MWF and two on T/TH). I can honestly say that I thought I would not be able to make it through the first semester. I was the only person in my sociology class with empty seats around me and while everyone did not have “friends” to sit with, no one else was isolated like I was. I sat five rows in and in the first seat of my row. No one sat in either row directly next to me or directly in back of me. I was the only person in the entire class that had empty seats around them in every single direction and it was a fairly full class. My math class was the only class where I had someone to sit next to and someone who did not freeze me out and that is because the class was incredibly full and had no room for seats to be empty. Since people were forced to fill in the empty seats, I was able to meet the only student in the entire university that did not shut me out and actually gave me a chance. Unfortunately, my seminar and my English classes were just like my sociology class. In my seminar class there was three rows of long tables put together and the row that I sat in only had me on one end of the row and one other student all the way at the other end of the long table(meaning there was 6 whole seats between me and the next person). Every single other seat in the classroom was filled expect for those 6 seats between me and the next student. To make matters worse, my English class was the exact same way and even worse. The tables in this room were formed to make a U shape. I sat on the end of one of the long sides. Depending on the amount of people who would show up to class each day there would be anywhere from at least 2-5 seats between me and the next student, although every single other seat in the entire classroom was filled without any other empty spaces except the ones next to me.

Although I pride myself on being a strong person who does not let other people influence me, being treated in such a way by others did have a negative affect on me. Even though I was never popular in high school and I never had tons of friends, I was never excluded in such a way like I was in these classes. Not only was I treated like an undeserving individual, but in the hallways I was also snickered at and stared at on a daily basis. In my English class, other students would also shove my walker while I was hanging onto it so they could get out of the classroom faster since I was walking slowly in front of them. Experiencing this inhumane and despicable treatment during my first semester was absolutely devastating to me. I would sit in my car before class and cry in anticipation of what was to come each day during class and I would cry everyday when I got home from class as I reflected on the day and how my peers made me feel like an alien who would never belong. The most concerning thing to me is the fact that the teachers never said anything to the class about including everyone while it was blatantly obvious that I was being alienated by my classmates. “Why didn’t you speak up?”, you may ask? How could I? Why would I want cruel people to be forced to sit with me when it was sickeningly obvious that they were all leaving me out of everything.

As first semester came to a close, I looked back at all that I went through and gave myself a pat on the back for sticking it out. It took true bravery and perseverance for me to finish out the entire semester considering what I was experiencing every single day. During winter break I noticed a change in myself and my mental state.  And not only did I notice a difference in myself, but my family noticed I was not the bubbly, sociable girl that I typically was. The way the students had treated me in my classes first semester had made me scared to leave my house because I was nervous that everyone was going to treat me like that. I developed anxiety against talking to people and going to public places in fear of feeling inferior like I was feeling at school. As winter break was ending and the start of the spring semester was quickly approaching, I became physically sick about classes starting up again. Just the thought of stepping onto campus made me nauseous. Even though I was dreading the spring semester more than anything, I did not withdrawal just yet because I thought “Maybe if I give it another chance with five new classes filled with five new groups of people, it will be a better experience.” Once again, I put on a brave face and began a new semester.

 Dare I even say that second semester was worse than the first? I was treated like a rabid animal or a patient carrying the plague in all five classes, once again. That means five new sets of people all treated me as though I was inferior in society and that I was undeserving of having people sit in the same general vicinity of me. My American History class was incredibly full, so there was not very much room for leaving seats empty, however the four seats that were empty out of the entire classroom were the four seats between me and the next chunk of students. All seats were full in my CIS class, so there was no issue there, although several students in that class giggled at my physical struggles on more than one occasion. My math class had a few empty spots that were once again next to me and students in this class loved to let the door to the classroom slam in my face on the way out of class. My econ class was very full, however the seats next to me were always the very last ones to be filled. And for my communications introduction class, I once again had two empty seats on either side of me that were empty. So needless to say, if I was already upset and physically sick about how things happened first semester, I was now even more depressed than I had ever been. As the weeks rolled on the depression and anxiety I was experiencing got worse and I became unmotivated to leave the house for anything and unmotivated to do school work due to how useless my peers were making me feel. Although Dominican is a small school, I could not believe that every single class that I had taken had that many mean spirited students. The day that I took my last final was the biggest celebration day for me. The relief that washed over me as I drove away from campus is unlike any feeling that I had ever felt before; it was freedom. Freedom from feeling like I was inferior. Freedom from being laughed at. Freedom from being scared in anticipation of going to school just to be discriminated against. I was free from everyone who was bringing me down.

 Although it is the way that I was treated that is my main cause for withdrawing from Dominican University, I also have to note how bad the professors were and all of the slanted, biased, and offensive things that were stated by these educators during class. While many things that professors said rubbed me the wrong way, I believe a comment made by Professor M was by far the most insensitive comment I had ever heard come out of the mouth of a professional adult. One afternoon he was writing on the board and was trying to draw a picture to demonstrate whatever idea he wanted to explain to us. He drew his picture and then he took a step back and looked at it. He said “Look at this shitty picture. It’s like we’ve got people from ‘Jerry’s Kids’ drawing it!”. He was clearly referring to the Muscular Dystrophy organization called Jerry’s Kids. While I do not have Muscular Dystrophy and I do not personally know anyone affected by it, that comment really rubbed me the wrong way. I consider myself an advocate for people with various disabilities and conditions, so hearing that comment was alarming to me. I don’t understand how a Catholic university is allowing one of its’ educators to be making jokes such as these that are not only incredibly offensive, but extremely uncalled for. Professor B struck a nerve with me on the very first day of second semester. I was the first one in class and took a seat on the end of one of the rows of computers. Everyone else filed into the classroom and sat nowhere near me, like in every other class as I had mentioned before. Once class started, he came up to me and loudly said, “You cannot sit here, you have to move.” I said, “Right now?” He replied, “Yes, the rule is that you can’t sit alone and you chose to sit away from everyone so I need you to move otherwise if you get lost while we are doing an assignment you will have no neighbor to help you.” First off, I did not choose to sit alone, it was not my fault that everyone else filled up all of the other seats that were all away from me. Second, he didn’t care that I was alone, he just wanted me to sit by someone so I could ask them for help and not bother him, which I figured out later in the semester. I said to him, “Can I please move tomorrow? It is hard for me to get up and down.” He said, “Why?” I then pointed at my walker. He shrugged in confusion. I then said. “I have a disability and it is very hard for me to keep getting up and moving. Can I please move tomorrow?” He said, “I suppose.” This whole exchange took place in front of the entire class, so naturally I was very embarrassed. His insensitive attitude continued throughout the semester when he asked me, “What did you do to your legs?” and then later asked, “Have your legs healed yet?” I had bad anxiety about going to his class everyday because I never knew what insensitive remark he would make towards me.

  After dragging myself through two full semesters of torture at Dominican University, I can see that the mission statements you advertise could not be farther from the truth. “Caritas Veritas” was something I never experienced during my time at Dominican. The university prides itself on “love and truth” when all I felt from my peers was hate and I was taught lies from my professors. Dominican’s mission is to “maintain a just and humane campus for all”, which cannot be maintained when it is not even there to begin with. If Dominican University really did maintain and “just and humane campus for all”, I would not be writing this letter. As I said, I consider myself as an advocate for people with disabilities. Part of this is motivational and educational speaking that I do at local schools as a job. After speaking at schools, I get back so much positive feedback from both administrators and students about how my speech helped them to understand people with differences better and what to say and not say to people who have a disability. Administrators tell me that what I say impacts the students and the way they treat others. Sometimes all people need is some education on things they may not understand or have closed their minds off from. If the university really wants to “maintain a just and humane campus for all”, they need to consider having someone like me speak to and educate both students and staff on disability awareness in order to have a just and humane campus.

 The more I write about my experience at Dominican, the more closure and freedom I feel. For the last couple of months I was trying so incredibly hard to repress the events that took place while I attended Dominican, but I was not able to truly feel at peace until writing this. No one deserves to feel how I felt while at Dominican. No one deserves to be isolated, ignored, disrespected, discriminated against, or feel like they are unworthy of having people acknowledge them. Now that I am done at Dominican University, I can be free to find a place where I am respected, cared about, and treated like any human being should be treated. While this is very bittersweet for me, it is the best move I have ever made for myself and I have no regrets. I will use this experience as inspiration for more of my public speaking and advocacy and hopefully I can use my negative experience to make a positive change in the world.


Dayna Marie Dobias

High School AU

Summary: HI!! Can you do a high school AU where the reader is like the star athlete and everyone loves her and Dean is the bad boy loner who no one messes with and they get partnered for a project and he tries to win her over? I know it’s weird but I feel like you will do an amazing job and I love you

Characters: Eventual Dean x Reader

A/N: So I’m going to start the beauty and the beast one soon!!! But here is a different one, it’s written a bit differently so let me know what you think! 2nd part?

Originally posted by campbellsaunders

Back then things were simpler, that is what people say when talking about their childhood right? I had considered starting it with “once upon a time” but that seemed a little too cliché for my taste, or well our taste.

Either way the beginning isn’t what matters but rather the end. That’s where I’m living isn’t it, the end. Though I don’t like the prospect of calling the situation I’m currently in ‘the end’ for that defeats the whole purpose of writing this letter.

It had started as a warning to my younger self-well you- but for obvious reasons that will do nothing to fix my current situation. So rather than a warning I’m going to use it as a sort of way of backtracking in my footsteps to figure out where I went wrong. And in order to do that I need to go back to the beginning, the beginning of this not-end. And thus I start with:

Back then things were simpler. High school was separated into natural, self-occurring groups that were not to mingle except a few cases. Preps and Jocks were not to interact with nerds unless when it came to bullying them and vice versa (though of course nerds were not to bully jocks but rather begrudgingly tutor them). Same was true with the drama nerds, band geeks, goths, etc. (I’m not going to keep listing them since you are me and I know you understand what I’m trying to say by now)

But there was one thing this natural order was not ready to encounter: Dean Winchester.

He was the first person for whom this cliché order could not find a niche. He was certainly good-looking enough to be considered a jock, something that I-erm you (I promise I’m going to try and stick to the second person well writing this) had seen firsthand. He had been given countless invites to parties, none of which he actually attended, and even asked to try out for the football team, to which he had replied quite eloquently “fuck no”.

And with those parting words the jocks thus withdrew themselves and let the other cliques swoop in and compete for this enigma of a person. He certainly seemed aloof enough to be a goth though they quickly rejected him as well claiming he “didn’t belong”

Then came band and drama people who both quickly withdrew their hats from the ring due to his lack of interest in either of their “hobbies” (as long as I’m writing this as a warning I might as well throw this one in, do not refer to band as a hobby when talking to Sydney in 10nth grade, that is how you get suspended for a week after she starts a fight).

The nerds soon followed as after just a week Dean proved himself to be nothing of a genius with straight D’s.

 And so Dean was cast out, maintaining a shred of popularity due to his good looks which often earned him heated make out sessions in janitor’s closets in between classes with pretty much any girl in the school.

However, let’s face it, even when the school dropped its fascination with the new kid after he was deemed an outcast you never dropped yours.

Many of your lunchtimes were spent watching him with some fascination as he sat at the last table in the lunch room, his arm often slung over some girls shoulders as he pretended to be interested in whatever she was saying.

That was Dean Winchester, the kid who managed to briefly knock your school off its feet. Or at least that was the only Dean Winchester your school ever knew, you on the other hand somehow managed to get lucky enough to know a different one, a better one.

And I suppose that story begins some three weeks after his first arrival in your physics class. Either the best or worst day of your (our?) life. A question that before had, in my mind, a definitive answer. Now I’m not so sure.


You walked into class as if it were any normal day, and at the time it had seemed so. You took your normal seat towards the back of class surrounded by your friends, only one of whom was currently in class.

No sooner had you sat in your seat had Charlie swung around and sat herself on top of your desk, placing her feet on either side of you on your chair and resting her elbows on her knees to hold up her head.

“So rumor has it that coach is planning on starting Amanda at shortstop” She all but groaned.

Your eyebrows immediately scrunched together “but she plays first”

Charily nodded her head “Amanda’s pissed because she’s never played shortstop and Hailey’s pissed because this means she isn’t starting and the rest of the team’s pissed because this means we lose two of our starters.”

“So coach managed to piss off the entire team in one decision” You chuckled slightly “that’s got to be a record”

Charlie shot you a glance that clearly showed she wasn’t happy about this causing your chuckles to die down quickly “She says she wants to change around our lineup in order to, and I’m quoting this ‘shake things up a bit’”

“right because when we are playing a so far undefeated season that means we should change things” You answered sarcastically “That will help us get to districts”

“Oh we’re getting to districts” Charlie responded immediately “if anything you can single handedly get us there”

You rolled your eyes “I can not carry the team to districts”

“You definitely could” Charlie answered with a slight chuckle “tell her Misha” She raised her voice slightly as Misha took his seat.

“yes” He answered confidently with a nod “now what are we talking about?”

“Please you can’t ask Misha” You shook your head “he’s never even been to a softball game”

“I’ll have you know I once made it all the way to third base” Misha said with a smug grin that made both you and Charlie both simultaneously roll your eyes.

“If only you could score a home run” Gabe’s voice rang in a sing-song manner as he strolled past you taking the desk behind you causing you and Charlie to laugh and Misha glare at him.

“Tell me do you just appear whenever a sexual innuendo is being made or is it merely a coincidence” Charlie asked.

“It’s more I appear whenever the opportunity to insult Misha presents itself.”

“Ah so you’re around Misha a lot then” You said with a grin on your face.

“I really don’t understand why I hang out with you losers” Misha mumbled, turning around in his seat to face the front of the class just as the bell rang.

“It’s because deep down you know you can’t do any better” Charlie laughed as she jumped off of your desk and sat down in her own seat.

“Morning class” You teacher began talking immediately “cutting right to the chase I’m assigning a project”

She paused for effect, as if she were waiting for the class to erupt into a chant of excitement “you and a partner will be designing some sort of physics experiment, whatever you want really, to present to the elementary school kids on their field trip here”

Immediately Charlie put her hand over her shoulder and you gave her a soft high-five as a sort of acknowledgment that the two of you would be partners.

 “Now you guys are in a real treat because I’ve already picked your partners” She answered with fake excitement in her voice as the rest of the class erupted into groans. “the list of partners is up here along with the rubric so just try not to hurt yourself.” And with that she sat down at her desk.

You glared over at Misha with a look that said ‘kill me now’. “If I get stuck with a bad partner can I trust you to stab me in the eye with this pencil?” He asked holding up his pencil.

You nodded “of course what are friends for”

He put a hand over his heart and nodded, “thanks I always knew I could count on you”

You laughed and stood up, walking to the front of the class and grabbing a rubric before walking up to the sign.

A long list of names in two columns was written. You searched for your name, quickly finding it near the bottom and followed it to the other column, where written was a name you had never expected to hear again: Dean Winchester.

A voice sounded just above your shoulder causing you to jump slightly “I believe that means we’re partners”.


Ok I really want to add more to this story than one part will allow so what do you think, should I make it a multiple part story?

Part 2

March 7th, 2014 - Angels in New York

ARTIST: Anonymous

AUTHOR: yao-braginski

March 7th, 2014 – Angels in New York

Arthur wasn’t fond of New York. In fact, Arthur abhorred the wretched place. If he wasn’t being trampled on by the self-important commuters with burnished shoes and battered briefcases, he was being ambushed by some poorly paid employee with leaflets for events no one cared about. The city smelt like burnt car tyres and synthetic sugar, and the inhabitants ate doughnuts for breakfast. Doughnuts for breakfast, honestly, Arthur welcomed that notion the same way he’d welcome sharing a bed with a Frenchman. And, unfortunately, a day hadn’t passed by without Arthur having to hear that ridiculous American accent.

As far as the Englishman was concerned, nothing could make him enjoy New York or the company of Americans.

He was particularly irritable today after having received a phone call from his boss, who had decided that two entire weeks in the USA wasn’t enough and, instead, a month would be ‘more conducive to improving international relationships.’ Ergo, Arthur had another three weeks left before he could return to the civilised world.

Stomping proved to be an ineffective release of infuriation, and scowling blackly at whomever crossed his path was futile since New Yorkers were either jaded or preoccupied.

The sky was grey and apocalyptic, and the whorled clouds threatened to burst at any moment. Arthur liked the rain, nostalgically, but not when he was outside, trudging to work, in his best suit and sweater vest ensemble and in a foul mood.

He came to yellow-taxi infested road and made a half-arsed attempt to check for any oncoming traffic. Not paying attention to the people who had clumped together at the edge of the pavement, Arthur marched on. He’d only reached the centre of the road when a distressed 'Hey!’ reached his ears. Arthur reeled, a car horn blared and the world tunnelled into loud, yellow clutter.

His body furled, without consent, bracing for the impact of the car. When it came, all the oxygen was dislodged from his body. The floor was surprisingly yielding and there wasn’t a great deal of pain except for the concrete grating against the right side of him. Arthur felt pillowed and breathless, his eyes were open but he could hardly see anything. The skyscrapers of New York seemed distant and smudged, like looking at a water colour painting.

“I don’t think you’ve got concussion.” The voice was striking, real and directly above him. “How’d you feel?”

Arthur’s sight flickered in and out of focus until everything became three dimensional again. There was a man gazing down at him, an exceptionally handsome man with startling blue eyes.

“Hey there,” the stranger said, smiling. Arthur had never seen a smile like it.

“I sincerely hope you’re not the angel of chastity,” the Englishman replied blearily.

The smile became crooked with amusement. “Nah, I don’t think so. If you’re having impure thoughts about me, that’s totally fine.”

“Oh, good.”

This time, the man chuckled. It was a genuine laugh, entirely harmless, but Arthur got the impression that the man was laughing at him, rather than with him.

“You’re British, right? The accent? Explains why you walked out in front of a car. I hate to break it to you, but you gotta look the other way over here.”

Gradually, Arthur was coming to. A mass of eyes greeted him and the distant wailing of an ambulance siren rang in Arthur’s ears. The ground, which he had previously thought was cushioned, wasn’t the ground at all and, instead, he was sat on the blond American’s thigh with his back slouched against the man’s chest.

The Englishman’s cheeks became pinched with red.

“The bloody hell are you doing?!” Arthur tried to wriggle away but his body felt sluggish and unreactive like wet sand.

“Woah, hold still.” The man’s arms tightened around Arthur, proving himself to be ridiculously strong. “The paramedics are here now. Just try not to panic, okay?”

“I’m not panicking, you stupid American!” Arthur protested.

The paramedics accosted Arthur with a million questions after they’d finally approached the duo. He was then elevated by the bends of his elbows until Arthur found himself in the back of an ambulance. An entirely unnecessary precaution, in Arthur’s mind, and he’d made sure the paramedics were aware of his thoughts.

One over-invasive medical examination later, the Briton had been declared fit to leave. A whole day’s work had been wasted and the insurance would cost his company a fortune. Sure enough, he had three enraged voice-mails from his boss, all of which Arthur listened to with impatience.

Upon deleting his boss’ messages, there was only one message left from an unknown caller.

Hey there, Arthur Kirkland, this is Alfred F. Jones! I’m the angel of chastity that saved your life today. I’m just calling because, and I’m going out on a limb here, you made my gaydar senses tingle and I think you’re really cute. Since I did save your life, and that, technically, makes me your hero, I think you owe me a date. Call me back when you’re feeling better!” A pause. “Oh, and if you’re wondering how I know your name and number, one of your business cards fell out your pocket when you were lying on me. You got some killer legs by the way; hope that’s not too impure a statement for you. Anyway, call me!

Arthur frowned and ended the voice-mail. Americans were impertinent gits, the lot of them, and Alfred F. Jones was the worst Arthur had come across thus far.

This, however, didn’t stop Arthur from attending that date. And another date after that, and another date after that.

Light My Way, Lift My Head

Based on the prompt: “Our Christmas party turned into a tropical theme because the radiator is broken and it’s hotter than hell in here - damn you look good without a shirt i never noticed before asgdhfjgkhl”

For @alltheworldsinmyhead, I hope you like it, babe! <3

I’m writing Christmas fluffy AUs, only Santa can help me now.

Also on AO3

As far as roommates go, Bellamy Blake isn’t the worst one Clarke Griffin had. Her previous roommate liked leaving dirty socks in the kitchen sink, for a reason Clarke isn’t even going to try to understand. Compared to that asshole, Bellamy’s tendency to fight her over every little thing doesn’t even seem half as bad.

But she just can’t fucking wait until he comes home and she gives him the scolding of his life for busting the radiator, thus making their apartment a fucking oven that’s had her stripping to her underwear two seconds from entering it.

And all she got was a text.

I accidentally broke the radiator. Text everyone it’s a tropical-themed party tonight. Sorry.

She wasn’t expecting it to be this bad – windows fogging up, half of the cookies prepared for their Christmas party melted into a fudge on the kitchen counter and the radiator merrily humming away as it fries them alive.

So when Bellamy finally comes home from work, she’s up from the couch (sweating in the thinnest t-shirt she could find, thank you very much) and at him in a matter of seconds.

“Welcome to the oven! Would you like to be crispy baked or on the rare side?”

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