#santa shrink

[sheliesshattered]

as I have previously noted, I am absolutely not physically suited to being a laundress

[thef1diary]

A Naughty Gift | D. Ricciardo

Merry Smutmas - Day 6: Secret Santa

warnings: 18+ content, use of vibrator, fingering, best friend!danny

— missed day 5? Read it here by @emchante

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work

The living room radiates warmth, the soft glow of string lights reflecting off ornaments carefully hung on the Christmas tree. A steady, crackling fire in the fireplace adds to the cozy atmosphere, its warmth mingling with the scent of pine and spiced mulled wine. The chatter of your closest friends fills the air, their laughter blending seamlessly with the holiday playlist humming softly in the background. 

The room is alive with anticipation. You’re seated on the couch, a glass of wine in your hand, your legs curled comfortably beneath you. Around you, your friends settle in—some on couches, others sprawled on the floor with mugs of hot cocoa or cider in hand. The Christmas tree stands proudly in the corner, its base surrounded by an array of colourfully wrapped gifts, each tagged with a name. 

Tonight is the long-awaited secret Santa exchange, a tradition that never fails to bring laughter, surprises, and a few inside jokes to your closest group of friends. Two weeks ago, you all had drawn names from a bowl, each person tasked with finding the perfect gift for their chosen recipient. The mystery of who picked whom has been the topic of countless teasing conversations since, and now, the moment has finally arrived. 

You’re excited to see your friend’s reaction when they open the gift you picked out for them—an item you’d put serious thought into, sure they’d love. But there’s also a nervous energy bubbling beneath your excitement. You have no idea who drew your name from the bowl, and your mind has been running through possibilities all week. Will it be something heartfelt? Funny? Maybe even a little ridiculous? Only time will tell. 

One by one, the gifts are claimed and brought back to their recipients. Each present earns its own reaction—gasps of surprise, peals of laughter, or appreciative murmurs.

The stack beneath the tree shrinks as the night goes on, and the anticipation builds. Finally, it’s your turn. Your heart skips a beat when one of your friends plucks a medium-sized gift from the dwindling pile and passes it to you. The wrapping paper is festive but slightly crooked, as if the effort was rushed or the wrapper wasn’t skilled—it’s impossible to tell which. You let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head at the uneven bow perched on top. 

Balancing the gift on your lap, you spot the tag attached to the ribbon. Beneath your name is a handwritten message in bold, playful script:

For when you need to unwind :) 

Your eyebrows furrow in curiosity. “I’m almost afraid to open this,” you mutter, pulling at the ribbon. 

With careful fingers, you peel back the wrapping paper, the brightly colored patterns giving way to a glossy white box underneath. The moment the text and images on the packaging come into focus, your breath catches in your throat.

Your gasp is audible—and immediate.

Nestled inside is a vibrator, sleek and modern, its packaging professional and uncomfortably clear about its intended use. Your mouth falls open in shock, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at the box, your mind blank.

The room explodes into laughter, your friends practically doubling over as they take in your reaction. You blush furiously, scrambling to pull pieces of the discarded wrapping paper back over the box as if that might somehow undo what just happened. But despite your embarrassment, a laugh escapes your lips, shaky and incredulous.

“Seriously?” you managed, your voice slightly higher than usual as you hold up the box—stil half-covered in the wrapping—for emphasis.

“That’s the next best option if you’re not getting laid!” one of your friends teased, wiping tears of laughter from their eyes. 

“Oh my god,” you groan, burying your face in your hands for a moment before peeking back out at the chaos around you. 

The laughter continues, the jokes coming in waves. 

“Looks like someone’s trying to do you a favour!”

“Now you have no excuse to be cranky.”

You can’t help but laugh along with them, even as your cheeks burn. This wasn’t entirely unexpected; for months, your friends had made a running joke about your supposed sexual frustration. Anytime you were stressed or snappy, the solution was always the same: “You just need to get laid!”

Still, you never imagined getting such a gift from a secret Santa. 

Once the initial uproar dies down, you look around the room, trying to pinpoint who might have been bold enough to give you such an obscene gift. Your friends are still chuckling, tossing jokes back and forth, but as your gaze sweeps over the group, it lands on Daniel, seated across from you. 

Unlike everyone else, he isn’t laughing. His lips curve into a smirk, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement as he watches you, unbothered by the chaos around him.

Your eyes narrow, suspicion flaring. “Daniel,” you say, your voice sharp enough to cut through the lingering laughter.

The room falls silent, everyone turning to look at him. His smirk deepens, and he leans back casually in his chair, his posture oozing confidence.

“What?” he asks, feigning innocence. “I thought you could use something to help you… loosen up a little.”

The room erupts again, louder this time, your friends practically collapsing into each other at the sheer boldness of his comment. You groan, shaking your head, but there’s no hiding the amused smile tugging at your lips.

“You’re unbelievable,” you say, your voice laced with exasperation.

“Unbelievable or thoughtful?” he counters, his tone dripping with mock sincerity.

“You know, I should be offended,” you reply, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“Are you?” comes his immediate response. 

“Still debating it,” you mutter, unable to stop the small chuckle that escapes.

The focus soon shifts as another gift is unwrapped, the group’s attention moving on, but your gaze keeps wandering back to Daniel. The box lies heavy in your lap, the weight of it grounding you in more ways than one.

It’s just a gag gift, you tell yourself, a harmless joke meant to get a laugh out of you. But your mind can’t help but circle back to him. Of all the things he could have picked, why this? And, more importantly, had he thought of you—truly thought of you—when he chose it? The thought sends a shiver down your spine, one you quickly dismiss with a shake of your head.

Needing a distraction, you rise to refill your glass of wine, letting the chatter of your friends fade into the background as you retreat to the kitchen. You’re pouring a generous amount when you hear the soft creak of footsteps behind you.

“You might need more wine than that if you’re trying to forget about my gift,” Daniel’s voice drawled, the teasing tone unmistakable.

You glance over your shoulder to find him leaning casually against the doorframe, his posture relaxed but his eyes watching you intently.

“I’m not trying to forget it,” you say, turning back to your glass. You lift it to your lips, letting the liquid warm you before continuing. “Just need a little liquid courage.”

“To use it?” he asks as he steps closer, his tone light but laced with insinuation.

You turn fully to face him, narrowing your eyes. “Who says I’m going to use it?”

“It’d be a shame if you didn’t,” he replied smoothly, his smirk deepening.

Your heart skips a beat at his audacity, and before you can stop yourself, you blurt, “do you want me to use it?”

His smirk falters for half a second, replaced by something darker, something unreadable. “You’re always so stressed, so uptight. You’d be doing everyone a favour if you did.”

You roll your eyes, slapping his arm playfully. “I didn’t know my lack of… cumming was a group concern,” you muttered, sarcasm dripping from your voice.

His chuckle is low, almost a hum, but his eyes never leave yours.

Taking a sip of your wine, you decide to lean into the humour of it all. “Thanks for the gift, though,” you say, your tone light, playful. “Maybe this thing will finally do the job, considering everything else I’ve tried has been useless.”

Daniel’s expression shifts, his smirk freezing as his eyebrows lift. “Wait, what?”

Your cheeks flush instantly, and you curse yourself for letting that slip. “Nothing,” you mumble, shaking your head as you try to sidestep him.

But his hand darts out, gently grabbing your wrist and holding you in place. His grip is firm but not forceful, and it sends a jolt of electricity up your arm.

“You’re not getting out of this one,” he says, his voice low, laced with curiosity. “What do you mean by that?”

You groan, tipping your head back in exasperation. “I can’t believe I’m telling you, of all people, this.”

“Hey!” he exclaims, feigning hurt but a moment later, his smirk returns, though it’s softer this time, less mocking and more intrigued.

You bite your lip, debating, but the words tumble out before you can stop them. “It’s not voluntary, okay? I just… I can’t make myself, you know… finish. Not with my fingers, not with toys—nothing works. And I’m not exactly dying to hook up with anyone, either.”

His grip on your wrist loosens slightly, but his thumb brushes against your skin, sending another shiver through you. He’s quiet for a moment, processing, before he lets out a soft chuckle.

“Well,” he starts, his voice dropping an octave, “if that’s the case, you’d better give me a review of my gift once you use it.”

Without thinking, without hesitating, you fire back, “Why don’t you see for yourself if it works?”

The second the words leave your mouth, you realize what you’ve just said. His eyes widen, a flicker of surprise crossing his face, but it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced by something darker, more intense.

His grip tightens slightly, anchoring you in place. The air between you shifts, thick and charged, and for a moment, you wonder if you’ve gone too far. But then, he steps closer, invading your personal space as his lips graze your ear. 

“Careful,” he whispers, his voice low and dangerous. “I might take you up on that.”

Your breath catches, the weight of his words settling over you like a challenge. And for the first time all night, you’re not sure if this is still a joke—or if you want it to be.

The thought had all but left your mind as the night wore on, the air filled with laughter, the buzz of conversation, and the off-key singing of your friends as they belted out holiday tunes. You’d allowed yourself to relax, to forget about Daniel’s provocative words and the gift itself. The glass of wine you’d poured earlier remained untouched on the countertop—a conscious decision to remain completely sober and avoid any further embarrassment in front of him.

As the night began to wind down, your friends trickled out one by one, each hugging you tightly and thanking you for hosting. The energy shifted, quieter now, though still warm and filled with contentment. One of your friends lingered before leaving, her grin mischievous as she nudged you gently.

“Don’t forget about your gift,” she teased, winking. “Tonight might be the perfect time to use it.” 

You laughed it off, waving her out the door, but her words lingered, stirring something deep inside your chest. As the door closed behind her, you let out a quiet breath and turned back to the living room.

Daniel was still there, gathering stray glasses and stacking plates with a practiced ease that made your stomach twist. He always stayed behind to help, his presence in your space as natural as if he belonged there. 

The last of your friends were slowly trickling out, bidding you their goodbyes with hugs and sleepy smiles. It wasn’t long before it was just you and Daniel, the sound of clinking dishes breaking the comfortable silence.

In the kitchen, you were focused on loading the dishwasher when Daniel came up behind you, balancing a few more plates in his hands. His proximity sent a familiar jolt through you, a rush of awareness that made it impossible to ignore him.

As he set the dishes down beside you, the memory of your earlier moment in the kitchen resurfaced and you felt your cheeks warm at the thought, and you stole a glance at him. It seemed like that moment was on his mind too. His expression was unreadable, but the silence stretched between you, thick and charged.

Neither of you brought it up, though, working side by side until the kitchen was spotless. 

He wandered back to the living room right before you, picking up his leather jacket from the couch. But as he moved to sling it over his arm, his eyes landed on the box still sitting on the cushion—the gift, untouched and glaringly present. His head tilted slightly, his lips curling into a faint, knowing smirk.

You weren’t sure what compelled you to speak up, but the words left your mouth before you could stop them. “I was told I should use it tonight.” 

The moment the confession escaped your lips, heat flared across your face. You busied yourself with fixing the cushions on the couches, avoiding his gaze. 

Daniel chuckled softly, the sound drawing your attention back to him despite yourself. “Is that so?” He picked up the box with his free hand, his movements casual. “Are you going to?” He asked, tone laced with intrigue. 

He dropped his jacket back onto the couch, sliding one hand in his pocket as he waited for your response. Your heart was pounding now, and for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out why you were even entertaining this conversation.

Daniel’s smirk widened as he toyed with the box in his hand, his fingers brushing deliberately over the edge of the packaging. His gaze flicked to you, then back to the box, and with a slow, deliberate step, he started closing the space between you.

“What’s the hesitation, huh?” he asked, his voice smooth, teasing. “Scared it’s not going to work? Or are you scared it will?”

You shot him a glare, though it lacked any real heat. “I’m not scared,” you muttered, your voice betraying the slight tremor in your chest.

“No?” He stepped even closer, the vibrator box now dangling lazily from his hand as his eyes roamed your face, searching for cracks in your resolve. “Then what is it? You just like edging yourself, is that it? Letting yourself get so close you can taste it… then ripping it away?”

Your breath hitched, and you instinctively shook your head, the heat in your cheeks spreading down your neck. “I don’t—”

He cut you off with a low chuckle, taking another step until he was standing directly in front of you, the air between you thick and charged. “No?” he pressed, tilting his head. “You’re telling me you spend your nights wound up tight, desperate, trying to finish but never quite getting there?”

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper. “I need to,” you admitted, the words spilling out before you could think twice. “I need to cum. So badly.”

Daniel’s smirk deepened, his gaze darkening as his free hand came up to brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch lingering for just a second too long. “Then you should use it tonight,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower, more intimate. “Get yourself off, let go for once. But…”

He paused, the corner of his mouth twitching as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Maybe what you really need is another pair of hands.”

“Daniel…” you whispered, your voice trembling, unsure if it was a protest or an invitation.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, the teasing smirk never leaving his lips. “Say it,” he said softly, the challenge clear in his tone. “And I’ll make sure you finally get what you need.”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, time seemed to still. Daniel stood close, so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, his dark eyes locked on yours like he was daring you to make the next move. 

You nodded, the motion small but deliberate, your lips brushing against his as if testing the waters. The faintest whisper escaped you, desperate. “Please, Danny, make me cum.” 

That was all it took.

Daniel surged forward, his hand sliding around the back of your neck as his lips crashed against yours with a force that made your knees weak. The kiss was fiery, intense, and filled with a hunger that had been simmering beneath the surface all night. His other hand dropped the box unceremoniously onto the couch, coming up to grip your jaw, guiding your movements.

You gasped into his mouth as his tongue slipped past your lips, deepening the kiss. Your heart raced as Daniel’s mouth moved against yours, eliciting a hunger from within you that made your knees weak. His tongue teased yours, pulling soft, desperate noises from the back of your throat. 

Daniel’s hands found your waist, steady and firm as he guided you backward until the edge of the couch caught the backs of your knees. A gentle push sent you down onto the cushions, your breath hitching as he towered over you. His gaze, dark and filled with intent, flicked to the discarded box on the couch beside you. Without breaking eye contact, he reached for it, the tearing sound of the packaging loud in the charged silence.

“Go on, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low and commanding, sending a shiver down your spine. His fingers worked at the box with practiced ease, pulling out the sleek vibrator that gleamed faintly in the dim light. He held it up for a moment, his smirk deepening as he glanced back at you. “Strip for me,” he said, the words carrying a weight that made your stomach flutter.

Your hands moved instantly, almost on instinct, tugging at the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head. You fumbled with the waistband of your pants next, your eagerness only adding to the heat building between you. 

Daniel knelt in front of you once you were bare for him. His hands found your ankles, warm and strong, as he pulled your legs over his broad shoulders, his stubble grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. The couch cushions dipped under your weight, but all you could focus on was the way he leaned in, the heat of his breath just inches away from your cunt. 

“Look at you,” he murmured, almost as if speaking to your glistening cunt rather than to you. “So wet already… Were you this desperate before, or is this just for me?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but no words came out. Your throat felt dry, your body so keyed up you could barely breathe. He grinned, clearly pleased by your speechlessness, and leaned in just close enough that his breath ghosted over your folds. The sensation made you shiver, your body straining toward him of its own accord.

His warm breath fanned over your slick heat, and you swore you could feel every word as he spoke. “You’ve been needing this, haven’t you? So worked up, so desperate to let go.”

Your mouth fell open in response, a soft whimper escaping as his fingers slid up your inner thigh, his touch featherlight but enough to make you arch into him. Two fingers came to rest against your folds, spreading you gently. The simple act, something you’d done countless times to yourself, now felt like an entirely new experience under his hands.

He dragged his thumb upward, deliberately brushing against your clit in the faintest tease, a mere suggestion of pressure that sent jolts of electricity racing through you. Your hips bucked involuntarily, a soft, pleading whimper slipping from your lips.

“Daniel,” you breathed, your voice shaky with need. “Please, I need to—”

“Shh,” he interrupted, his tone smooth, teasing. His lips curled into a smirk as his thumb circled your clit again, just barely grazing the swollen nub. “Needy, aren’t you?” He chuckled softly, the sound reverberating through you. “You’ve been so patient. Let me enjoy this for a moment.”

Your head fell back against the couch, your thighs trembling over his shoulders. The teasing was excruciating, his touch featherlight and agonizingly slow, keeping you on the edge without giving you the relief you so desperately craved. Another whine escaped you, and he chuckled again, clearly amused by your desperation.

“Do you know how pretty you sound when you beg?” he murmured, his voice low and rich. “But don’t worry. That’s what I’m here for. Me and this little gift of mine.”

Before you could respond, Daniel leaned in, his warm breath ghosting over your core before his tongue dragged a slow, deliberate stripe along your folds. The sudden wet heat of his mouth made you gasp, your back arching off the couch as he pulled back with a hum of satisfaction.

“Sweet,” he muttered, his lips brushing against your inner thigh as he spoke. “Perfect.”

Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, but there was no time to recover. He brought the vibrator into view, the sleek toy gleaming in the dim light. “Let’s see how well this works, hmm?”

He pressed the tip of the vibrator against your clit, still teasing, still maddeningly light. Then, with a click, he turned it on. The sudden vibration against your sensitive flesh was like a jolt of electricity, and you cried out, your hips jerking upward as pleasure shot through your body.

The sensation was familiar yet utterly foreign, amplified by the fact that you weren’t in control. You didn’t know what was coming next, couldn’t anticipate his movements, and it left you completely at his mercy.

Daniel pressed the vibrator more firmly against your clit, his eyes fixed on your face as he watched your reactions with a wicked grin. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asked, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You’re so sensitive, love. Look at how you’re shaking.”

Your legs quivered over his shoulders, your body trembling under the relentless stimulation. Just when you thought it couldn’t get more intense, his fingers returned, parting your folds once more. The wetness there made it easy for him to slide one finger inside you, then another, the intrusion smooth and deliberate.

You moaned loudly, your hands clutching at the couch cushions as the dual sensations overwhelmed you. The vibrator against your clit and his fingers inside you created a perfect rhythm, each movement pushing you closer to the edge.

“Daniel,” you gasped, your voice breaking as the pressure built inside you, coiling tighter and tighter.

The vibrator hummed steadily against your clit, Daniel’s fingers curling inside you with a precision that made your back arch. The pressure built higher and higher, and you trembled, caught between the unbearable pleasure and the tension coiling in your stomach.

This was always the point where you faltered, the moment where the pleasure grew so overwhelming, so maddeningly close, only to slip away. Every time you’d done this to yourself, your fingers had failed to push you past that invisible barrier. It was like chasing a mirage, just out of reach, leaving you frustrated and aching for more.

The memory of all those failed attempts made your chest tighten. You bit your lip, your moans softening, and Daniel noticed the subtle shift in your body. His movements slowed slightly, and his dark eyes flicked up to your face.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he murmured, his voice smooth and commanding, yet somehow soothing. His fingers stilled inside you for a moment, and he leaned in closer, brushing his lips against your thigh. “Don’t go shy on me now. I can feel how close you are.”

You whimpered, your lips parting to speak, but Daniel didn’t give you the chance. His grin turned wicked as his fingers curled again, this time pressing deep against a spot that had your breath catching in your throat.

“Look at you,” he rasped, his voice low and filthy. “Dripping for me. You’re so tight, sweetheart—so desperate to let go. Don’t fight it. You’re mine to ruin tonight.”

The vibrator pressed harder against your clit as he notched up the intensity. The sensation made you cry out, your hips bucking against his hand, but Daniel held you firm, his grip possessive.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he stated, his tone dark and teasing. “Not until I’ve wrung every last bit of that tension out of you. I want to feel you shake for me, hear you scream my name.”

His fingers thrust into you with deliberate precision, and he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your cunt. “You’re going to cum for me, sweetheart,” he said, his voice dripping with sin. “And when you do, you’re going to fucking thank me for it.”

The vibrator buzzed relentlessly against your clit, and his fingers kept up their steady rhythm, hitting a spot that constantly made you see stars. Your body writhed on the couch, every nerve on fire, as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak.

“You like that, don’t you?” Daniel’s voice was a low growl, his lips brushing against your trembling thigh. “Being completely at my mercy? Taking exactly what I give you? That’s it, pretty girl. Stop thinking. Just feel me.”

His words broke through your haze of overthinking, and you let go, surrendering completely. The coil inside you snapped, sending you spiraling into an orgasm so intense it left you shaking, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer.

Daniel stayed with you through it, his touch unrelenting but steady, drawing out every wave of pleasure until you were left trembling, spent, and utterly undone beneath him.

Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, your thighs trembling over Daniel’s broad shoulders. The vibrator slowed but didn’t stop, sending smaller, teasing jolts through your sensitive clit. His fingers withdrew carefully, and you whimpered at the loss, your body still pulsing from the aftershocks.

He straightened, his hands gripping your thighs firmly as he lowered your legs from his shoulders, guiding them down to wrap around his hips instead. Rising to his full height, Daniel moved onto the couch, the cushions dipping under his weight as he hovered over you. 

“You’re a fucking masterpiece,” he murmured, his voice deep and rough as he braced one arm on the back of the couch, the other trailing down to grip your jaw gently. “Look at you, trembling for me. Completely wrecked—and I’m not even close to being done with you.” 

His gaze was magnetic, holding yours captive as his lips hovered just above yours, a breath away. The heat of his body pressed against yours, his hips brushing yours in a way that made you gasp, your body instinctively arching toward him despite your exhaustion.

Your eyes widened as his words registered, your mind spinning as his intentions became clear. A fresh wave of heat pooled in your stomach, your body responding despite how utterly spent you felt.

“Oh, that’s right, sweetheart,” Daniel said, his lips curling into a wicked, filthy grin. “I’m going to make up for all those times you had to edge yourself, all the times you were so fucking close but couldn’t quite get there. That’s over now.”

He dipped his head, brushing his lips along the curve of your jaw, his stubble scraping against your heated skin and leaving a delicious burn in its wake. His hand slid down your body, fingers grazing your waist before gripping your thigh possessively. “You’re going to cum on my fingers again, on my tongue, on my cock—over and over until you’re wrecked, until you can’t even remember what it felt like to want more. I’ll make sure you’re completely satisfied, sweetheart.”

His teeth grazed the shell of your ear, his voice dropping even lower, rough with desire. “And I won’t stop until you’re a mess beneath me, begging for mercy or for more.” 

Taglist: @lilorose25 @thenotoriouserg @a-distantdreamer @leclercsluvs @fat-meh @wintxr-widow @amirahart @alishamai @rendezvoushn

[andrew-the-lego-maniac-mandrew]

Dwayne Johnson's Red One wasn't a masterpiece of cinema or anything but I really enjoyed it, I especially liked the additions and spins it took on Santa mythology. -Santa, every year a couple days before christmas, will hide in plain sight as a Mall Santa so he can remain in touch with the kids he delivers gifts for(this one's my absolute favorite, it's such a natural idea) -Santa can look into the souls of adults and is capable of seeing them as the child they once were. -Santa will sometimes have his reindeer and sleigh parked in a military aircraft hanger(that's just a funny visual come on) -While the North Pole workshop is a big elaborate christmas themed futuristic city now, Santa's original more quaint wooden workshop is kept at the center in a display -Santa literally shrinks and grows to get through chimneys and even has his presents shrunken when delivering them and grows them when placing them in houses.(derivative of antman but still pretty neat) -Toy Store backroom closets are portals that serve as gateways to both the north pole and other toy stores throughout the world. -This movie does the "Krampus is Santa's brother" thing but has it be that the Naughty List was a creation HE made, and to prevent him from doing anymore bad Santa stole it from him

[bogleech]

Hey about your cartoon vs Real life Animals post, can you elaborate on the lenght of frog tongues? This is the one that shocked me, i study in a Field closely related to zoology and never heard that their tongues are human-like short, unless you were trying to make a point about their shape and not lenght, then Please disregard my inquiry :p

When I say their tongues are "more human-like" than chameleon-like, I mean, this is a chameleon's tongue:

And this is a frog's tongue:

A chameleon has an astonishingly long, thin tongue that launches like a grappling hook, and almost all media thinks this is also true of frogs and toads.

The tongues of frogs and toads DO come out farther than ours, especially because they attach at the front of their mouth, rather than the back, and "flip" outward to grab prey:

But yes, between the two, their tongues are nowhere near like those of chameleons, but broad and flat like ours. The very farthest they can stretch is like this:

When you google frog or toad tongues, unfortunately, you get many more fakes than the real thing, to the point that even science articles have been known to use them

And, the first time I ever posted about this subject, someone retrieved exactly this fake photo to try and prove that I was making all this up. Frogs have never done this! Cartoons simply exaggerated it for fun at first, and then I guess confusion with chameleon tongues lead people to believe they worked similarly!

It's such a pervasive misunderstanding that I didn't know about until my teens, and I was a biology nerd well before that too. It felt like a betrayal. I was never made to believe in Santa Claus but finding out frogs Don't Do That felt how I imagine that feels. Frog tongues were my Santa Isn't Real moment.

But, frog tongues are in my opinion just as interesting as chameleon tongues. Besides the weird flip-out structure they are extremely adhesive and also so soft and membranous that they practically "shrink wrap" to the prey! Terrifying!!! Getting got by a giant frog would be like getting wrapped up in a giant stretchy sheet of cellophane covered in glue!

[platinumaspiration]

Howdy, Simmers! I'm thrilled to present the Ultimate 4T2 Clay Hair Default Replacement Collection, designed to give your Sims a fresh and fabulous new look effortlessly! 💇‍♀️💇‍♂️✨

It's time to redefine Sim style – one fabulous hairstyle at a time. Get ready for a hair revolution with The Ultimate 4T2 Clay Hair DR Collection! 💖🌟

🍡Download - LC | MF 🍡

Updates folder - SFS | MF updated 5 Dec 2024

The nitty gritty details and disclaimers:

This is an entire collection that is interwoven with each other. Hair is repositoried to different ages, genders, defaults, and even hidden toddler hair. It's highly recommended that the collection stay intact and that you have the Ultimate Collection or all EP/SP. Recategorizers do not work with this collection

Not all hair works with each sims' faces and not all sims' faces work with each hair. So keep in mind foreheads, cheeks and ears may poke out. Previews are available at LordCrumps.com

The collection includes add ons that may require the defaults and are flagged as "Store Edition" hair. TS4 hairs range from base game to the most recent Stuff Pack (Home Chef Hustle). More hair may be included as add ons in the future.

Enable Store Edition icon

I wouldn't convert some hair without their outfit counterparts. Please make sure to remove conflicts. The outfits include:

ubodymascotknight_EP7 mbodysuperninja pubodybadger_badger pubodybadger_brown ubodycommercialmascot_buns ubodysocialbunny servo ubodycowmascot (a brighter/whiter version courtesy of tvickiesims)

Most of these hairs exist already in the realm of the community as custom hairstyles. Any of my hair previously converted (shrink, servo, santa hat, etc) should be removed; they'll be included in this collection.

TOU: Please feel free to use these as a template for your defaults and recolor the hair as you'd prefer for download purposes. I only ask that you do not reupload these original files (breaking down to packs, gender, etc) as they are intertwined and may not work without their exclusive counterparts. Please do not make these hairs as customs for reupload.

There are a few hair/items that use cc: credit: nolansims, sforzinda, arethabee

This took about... 8 months to complete. I've (re)converted all of these myself to my current expectations of my conversion content. This was play tested thoroughly over the course of that time. If there are any issues, please don't hesitate to send an ask. The file size is massive even compressed, but to be honest it's pretty decent for 500+ hair.

Under the cut are some personal sappy thank you notes that I want to share publicly:

Thank you to the defaulters at sims2defaults database for all your work! Just be kind if/when you tear into it lol

A humongous thank you to those whom have followed and been a part of my journey as a cc creator/converter. This inadvertently marks a huge follower milestone as well and I'm so happy that you all have been a part of this with me for the past (almost) 3 years!

I don't think I would have done this without meeting @lordcrumps over a year ago and joining in his journey for the ultimate 4t2 default collection. He's a true gentleman and scholar 🧐Thank you for play testing, collaborating, and above all, being one of my bestest of friends and confidant.

And, I would never ever had completed this without @tvickiesims. To think she raised me from a terrible toddler right into an angsty teen within that 8 months and still remained a true and close friend through all of it. Thank you for your extensive and detailed play testing, your companionship when I fall apart, and for being my twin flame 🤗

[heartmaddie]

ᯓᡣ𐭩.ᐟ SANTA BABY - isagi yoichi

[DEC 11TH 𝜗𝜚 STARS ALIGN 01] there's only one thing on isagi yoichi's christmas wish list this year; and it's her! for the past year he's been all flustered & red around her, so when she invited him to go gift shopping with her, yoichi knew he had just managed to make the 'nice' list ; 1,4k wc

[incl] pre blue-lock, easily flustered isagi?? , yn is implied to be a bit extroverted , mutual pining , puppy/innocent love

[letters from maddie] so i've never written for isagi and this is the first release of my christmas event! so i was a bit nerve wracked writing this lol - not to help that my brother and his fiancé literally broke up midway writing this so that's why it was a couple hours late (i wanted it to be released at 12am aedt but whatever) i tried my hardest and i promise that it becomes more fluid as you continue reading..

also i did try to write in a different writing style which is why it may seem a bit different to what i usually post.

[main masterlist] [event masterlist]

Isagi let out a deep sigh, entranced by the winter sun shining down on his classroom, filled with mindless chatter before school started. He wasn’t too fond of the cold, much preferring the comforting warmth of the transient autumn period, not unbearingly hot, but not miserably cold either. 

“Isagi,” a deep voice from behind caught his attention, reluctantly, he glanced towards the source. 

“Hm, what is it?” With indifference he leant back, eyes trained on the the necklace and earrings displayed on the screen. His eyebrows raised unmeasurably as he witnessed the price. “¥30,000, for that ?” he questioned in disbelief, “who’s that even for, who’s possibly worth ¥30,000?”

“It’s my girlfriend’s gift for Christmas,” He replied simply.

Suddenly, every word that fell from the other boy’s lips went unprocessed, christmas? 

Isagi Yoichi was a lot of things, driven, loyal, and friendly (perhaps a bit aggressive sometimes but that’s beside the point), but there was one thing that shone through, one flaw within his personality. He was the most forgetful person one could meet. 

“christmas?” he muttered quietly, lips parted in shame. He couldn’t believe that he’d forgotten! Isagi pressed his forehead onto the polished oak of the table, mind flooding as he articulated how exactly he could fit shopping into his already treacherous schedule. Between football practice, cram school and his other extracurriculars - he had no time, except for this afternoon, but regardless, that wouldn’t provide him enough time.

“Is that Isagi? Is he okay?” Her voice was freshly baked butterscotch cookies, a unique sweetness which fell only from her lips and he couldn’t stop the burgundy blood rush to plump cheeks. His body went static, breath hitched because of course, the only thing, the only person he couldn’t get out of his head for the past year would be the one to see him in this utterly embarrassing predicament. 

He felt a gentle shake to his shoulder, accompanied by an, ‘are you alright?’ questioned from pink lips in only the most heavenly tone he could imagine.

“‘m fine.” He mumbled, embarrassment clear on his tongue as he sat up, looking towards her with flushed skin. He didn’t miss the small giggle she let out, only making him shrink up more in his chair. 

“What’s wrong?” Her head tilted, lips pulled into a dulcet smile, and Isagi felt his heart melt. Didn’t she realise how much she was killing him? 

“It’s nothing important,” he replied, trying to pull himself together. "I just forgot to go gift shopping for my parents.”

Isagi thinks that in this particular moment, an omnipresent figure must’ve been watching because he knows that he’ll never be as blessed anytime in his life compared to then. The earth would cease its orbit when he was descrying her, and the sun shone down on her so gracefully that it was almost in a sublime manner when her skin glew pearlescent under luminosity.

“you know,” she started, her voice silken ivory sheets against clean skin, “I was planning on going this afternoon, so you’re welcome to come with me if you need to.” 

yoichi 1 , everyone else 0.

He met her on the stairs outside the main building of the school, hands stuffed into the pockets of his black full-length puffer jacket. He’d forgotten his gloves and was only now suffering the consequences of it. He was mindlessly scrolling on his phone while he waited, incessantly checking the time as minutes ticked by.

“Hey, sorry I was late. ‘was just helping my club clean up.” Isagi’s gaze fell upon her, clad in a beige trenchcoat with her pink woollen scarf draped over her neck like ivy. She looked up at him with cheeks flushed pink from the cold, a thin sheen of glossy balm adorned her lips, almost tantalizing. He didn’t realise he was staring.

“It’s fine,” he replied quickly, “are you ready to go?”

She replied with a nod, and Isagi disliked how she could act so calm when internally he was burning up inside.

Unbeknownst to him, she was inwardly suffering from the same torture as he. She fiddled with the applicator of her lip oil, swiping another layer onto the skin before her teeth sank into the peeling skin to rip it off. She was nervous, unbelievably so. She didn’t know what possessed her to even humour the idea of inviting Isagi to shop with her - she hadn’t spoken to him for the past year after she even discovered who he was, and she’d rather die than admit the secret affection she withheld for the boy.

“Is there anything that you’re particularly looking for?” He asked, feigning calm in his tone as they walked through ornate streets together.

“I think I'll buy fragrances for my parents, and then smaller gifts for my friends. Maybe figurines?” Her eyebrows furrowed in thought and Isagi’s heart pattered that little bit faster. “Do you have any idea yet for your parents yet?”

“No,” he admitted sheepishly, “I was thinking something more practical, like soap or something.”

She blinked.

“Oh, okay!” She smiled up at him, he felt his heart lurch. “I’m sure we can find something for them.”

The evening was agonizingly awkward, silence embedded between the two of them, each too scared to start a conversation, but regardless, Isagi was happy. He found an esoteric sort of comfort within the timidity, and a small smile would adorn his cheeks whenever he’d glance down at her.

Shibiya was busy at night, and he had tasked himself with carrying all the gift bags to seem that little bit more gentlemanish in her eyes, so he was more focused on ensuring that none of the bags would be crumpled as they pushed through crowds of people.

“What subway line do you live on again?” He asked, swiping on his phone as he sought out a way for them to get home safely, together. After a few moments of silence, he looked back and blinked.

Panic settled deep inside him as his head turned left and right rapidly, trying to spot her amongst the crowds of people. Isagi cursed himself, distressed that he lost her, but also may have lost the chance with the only girl he’s only found himself interested in. On the other hand, she was engrossed in swiping various lip-tint shades against the palm of her hand, completely oblivious to the terror to which her previous counterpart was subjected. Isagi rushed through the streets, reciting apologies as he pushed through plethoras of people. His eyes were trained on the decorated windows along the street line, searching for her familiarity.

Once his eyes fell upon her familiar coat & scarf, leaning over a display table at a small cosmetic store, he let out a deep, revitalising sigh of relief, taking the small amount of time he had to catch his breath before rushing into the store.

“Isagi, why are you running?” She asked curiously, looking up at him with raised eyebrows as he looked at her with deep concern.

“When did you wander off? Are you okay? Did you bump into anyone sketchy?” He asked an abundance of questions, each increasing in worry as his fingers instinctively reached for her face, stopping in the air when he realised what he was doing, his hands fell right down to his sides and his face blushed red.

“I’m fine,” she assured, looking up at him with a sheepish smile, “sorry, I got distracted by the collection..”

Isagi let out another sigh of relief,

“No, no. It’s fine” he murmured, “just let me know next time you do that.”

“Next time?”

The way her eyes expanded in excitement before returning to normal couldn’t hide from Isagi’s gaze, and his teeth gnawed on the inside of his cheek as he fought back a dorky smile.

“Yeah, next time.” He nodded.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Isagi stared at his phone the whole walk home, almost bumping into poles and tripping on rocks an unmeasurable amount of times. He couldn’t help but stare at the 10 digits displayed on the screen, right underneath her name.

Yoichi 2 , everyone else 0.

fin - please like & reblog if you enjoyed © heartmaddie all rights reserved. please do not repost my work.

[1920sladydectective]

Best Friend's Mother Ch.5 5.4K

This is the penultimate chapter everybody!

Love you all, thanks for reading my things! Scroll back on this account or check AO3 for the full story! Not proofread I am tired.

Enjoy Enjoy Enjoy

<3

Considering the events of the previous evening, you should have anticipated a ridiculous morning. 

Yawning, with bleary eyes, you left your room and were confronted with a wall of wrapping paper where the top of the stairs should be. A tap to the shoulder, an antler covered Kino. 

“Mystic doorway,” He mumbles, “When Mel gets here we can smash through it and Mum will be waiting in a Santa hat,” 

“You’re kidding,” 

“Nope,” Mel added, appearing with hazy eyes. You were feeling it too. Port was brutal. 

You were permitted to do the honours. Ruining the barrier, you were met with large white footprints going down the stairs towards the living room, and Ambessa Medarda wearing a Santa hat, wolf top and tartan trousers. The others smiled fondly, the novelty long since gone, but your heart was trapped in a whimsical vice. Muffled and shocked, a giggle tumbled out. You had never experienced this. Ever. 

In the living room the most ridiculous show of presents lay under and around the tree, ornately wrapped with bows and ribbons. Your eyes couldn’t stay fixed on one thing, darting around madly till they settled on the mantelpiece

Four stockings, hand knitted, hung from the aged wood. The first three initials were obvious, but the addition of your own made your throat close oddly. You were so included here and it felt wrong, all things considered. You felt a strong hand squeeze your shoulder, a warm look in older eyes. 

“Seems you’ve all been good,” 

“Overdone it a bit this year, Mum,” Kino snorted, taking what was clearly his spot on the floor. 

“Shut up, boy,” 

Her touch grounded you, body relaxing as you saw the nibbled goodies and drained port. The carrots however, were intact. 

“Guess Rudolph was just fine,” Sarcasm oozed, as you munched off the end of the carrot. 

Mel smiled, pulling you roughly down next to her as you were handed your stockings. Your offer of carrot was rudely rejected and you waited with bated breath to take a peek. It was heavy, and lumpy, with a toblerone resting at the top. It was all your favourites and some things far too expensive to be stocking fillers in your mind. Lipstick, chocolates and a bottle of Rum. At the very bottom, resting sadly, was a Clementine. Kino had coal. 

“Why?” It was outraged, cheeks full of chocolate coins. 

“Perhaps Father Christmas didn’t appreciate you refusing to help me with the Games room remodel,” It was quiet, muffled by coffee. 

He threw the coal at Mel, and a brawl began. You just nibbled a piece of fudge. 

It was a slow and easy start, despite the family violence, and you sat talking with Mel as you had breakfast. The order, though different to your own, had been explained. Stockings, breakfast, gifts and then a family stroll. 

A full english was slapped in front of you and you grunted. 

“We normally save ourselves for the Christmas dinner in my house,”

“Foolish,” Ambessa said, beheading a sausage, “That makes your stomach shrink and reduces your appetite,” 

Well. Fuck you I guess. Full English then. 

Back in the sitting room, each person was handed a present. 

Mel gave hers out first, swirling holly and ivy concealing presents that were so her it made you laugh. A spa holiday, for the both of you, in January. Ambessa received a collection of fancy cooking utensils and Kino received a book of mazes. 

“This seems like a gift to yourself, Babe,” You smiled, flicking through all the treatments she’d bought, “Will I have any body left after it's cleaned and dissolved?”

“It’ll cleanse you of all your impurities,” Her gaze darted to an obvious place. 

“Gee, Thanks,” 

There was lots to get through and it seemed that they had refined patience with it that you did not possess. You had never seen this many gifts at once and wanted to eviscerate them to find the treasures beneath. Kino chucked another couple things each person’s way, some from Father Christmas, some from him. 

He’d only gone and bought you a real tiara. Rich people are so fucking stupid. It sat proudly on your head all the same, swarovski crystals catching the light of the tree. 

“Regal, your highness,” He bowed his head, eyes crinkled with joy. 

“Twat,”

Father Christmas had been generous indeed, showering you with books and clothes and trinkets. You were a bit overwhelmed, dazed fingers stroking over jumpers and shoes as the Medardas continued to rip into the mountain. A sea of wrapping paper rested over your legs, warm and shiny as Ambessa drank an unholy amount of Brandy for 11am on a Wednesday. 

She chucked you a lumpy package, this one actually from her rather than her fat old man counterpart. It was a stuffed toy, a book character Tigger from Winnie the Pooh to be exact. 

“What?” You said, eyes gleaming, fingers buried in fuzziness. 

“You mentioned it was your favourite childhood book,” Her lips smacked together, “And if you’re any of them it’s the hyperactive orange thing with an individuality complex,” 

Wow. How sweet. Fuck.

“Your hat’s falling off,” You muttered to push the warmth away, passing her the gifts you’d begrudgingly bought, “These are yours,”

Ambessa took the pile, eyes murky as you watched intently for her reaction. You still needed her to like them, to like you. Mel couldn’t expect you to fall out of love that quickly. 

A rough tear, paper crumpling to reveal a blu-ray DVD. Trading Places, of course. The smile she wore changed, lips twisting as if to contain something you couldn’t see. 

“My favourite,” Her tone was far away, perhaps as trapped in the memory as you became every time you entered that room. 

“Still don’t know what it’s about,” A lie, you watched it repeatedly on your laptop in October, half drunk and sobbing, “Sure it’s good,”

“We’ll watch it together sometime,” Dear god you hoped not. 

“Okay!” It was dismissive, that was all you had, “Next one!” 

The next one in question was a Lucky cat figure who looked suspiciously like Mina, paw waving up and down rhythmically. Her laugh filled the space, hard and strong, as the lookalike summoned the feline herself. 

“It is you, Little Demon,” Ambessa whispered, “She has gifted me a VooDoo doll,”

Kino snorted, snatching Mina and peppering her with kisses, “Ignore the witch, Fluff,” 

The last gift from you she reacted to silently, a heavy gulp in her throat. A little, hand carved statue of three wolves snuggled in one another, babes and mother ornately preserved. Her smile winded you, watery for but a moment. 

The rest of the presents passed in a blur, your pile growing seemingly higher and higher until you’d forgotten half of the things. One thing that managed to stand out was Kino’s ridiculous gift to Ambessa; apparently her 9th wolf shirt, this one covered in a howling wolf with the word ‘Alpha' in icy block lettering. 

She seemed, confusingly, to favour this above all other gifts as if it were a priceless relic. Mel, bundled in a new dressing gown from Damson Madder, seemed totally unsurprised. 

Thankfully, that heralded the end of the gifts, and you were all given twenty minutes to get dressed and ready for the walk. As they shuffled out of the living room, a calloused hand gripped your arm to keep you in place. Ambessa, brown envelope in hand, looked down at you. 

“Everything alright?” 

“This is your last gift, Dear,” The rough paper slipped into your hand, the other hand still holding your arm. 

Panic. Curiosity. A fluttering, harsh pull in your stomach. “What is it?”

“Open it,” She was earnest, no teasing, eyes softer than you’d ever seen. 

Doing as instructed, you pulled out several pieces of paper. Trade invoices. Heating, Foundational, Pipe, Roof, and some stuff you didn’t even understand. 

“It’ll be completed by the 6th,” Honeyed words, caring, daggers to your heart, “You deserve to enjoy this holiday, and your studies, without the burden of such things,”

You were stammering, eyes cloudy with salt water, as trembling fingers moved through each document. She’d solved years of problems with the flick of an ornate wrist, a trump card of good will she was giving up wielding in favour of giving you privacy. This was no bribe, there was no motive here that you could see, she had done it just because it would help you. 

Ambessa was feeling a tad dizzy. Indulgence in brandy and emotional niceties leaving her reeling. You had been perfect all morning, a cocktail of wonder and sarcasm that swirled her mind harder than any drink could. Each reaction a glance or gasp to be cherished, her chest warm as you ended up in a tidal wave of wrapping. Each moment in your presence seemed more tenuous, but she could not fight the need for her next fix. It was a cruel trick, one she deserved, the way you had seemed to curl around her spine and crush it with a grin. Each attempt to slot into Mel’s rules felt like the loss of a limb. She had lost this fight, in more ways than one. 

“Ambessa,” It was a croak, the very light of the sun caught in your eyes, “Thank you!”

“No quip about presumptive rich people?” She said, thumb stroking along your forearm, “No class conscious rant?”

A giggle, more silly than you wished, as your damp eyes rolled, “You’ve just saved my life, my childhood home, that’s what you bastards should be doing,” 

“Seems I’m learning yet another thing from you then,” 

An embrace, rushed and harsh, to prevent the kiss dancing across your lips. She was awful and perfect and you hated her. “I’m going to go get dressed,” 

She wished you wouldn’t leave, perhaps ever, to allow her to linger in the aftermath of Christmas morning when it was just you and the fire and tender, crushed skin on skin. The moment ended all the same, and she sat on her armchair with a loud grunt. 

The walk was nicer than you’d anticipated, Kino and Ambessa smashing snow at each other as Mel quietly spoke in your direction. Today had felt lighter with her, some tension drained by the closeness of the night before. She’d gotten angry again, called you a few names, and nuzzled into your arms. Her grievances came in waves, as did most of her thought processes, and you didn’t mind the repetitiveness for each time you gained a small chunk back. 

Which is why, as she told you about Jayce and Viktor’s new idea, you did not notice the solid mass flying towards your face. Kino stood, eyes wild, gathering another bundle. 

There was war after that, plain and simple. 

At quarter to two you stumbled back through the French doors, hair damp and lip quivering from cold as Ambessa tugged a triumphant Mel through the door. 

“You can’t contain me just because you lost,” She growled, pulling against her mother’s hold. 

You avoided the conflict, darting upstairs and diving into the hot shower with such urgency you still had your koala socks on. Fancy shampoo and conditioner pushed away the grime of the outside as your forehead lent against the cool tile. This Christmas, though only half way through, had rocked your world. Ambessa Medarda creating an almost dreamlike, unattainable level of Christmas magic seemed ridiculous. Though, you supposed, she had always been good with grandness and negligent of day to day. You hadn’t needed a summer affair to figure that out. That knowledge did nothing to banish her soft eyes from your mind, that silly bloody Santa hat frizzing up her greying curls, as she did the best thing she’d ever done for you. Fuck her. In every way. Dangerous Path. Cold water smacked you back to Christmas day. 

Rictus, sweet angel that he was, had prepared everything and left it in the fridges. All you four needed to manage was timing, and you overconfidently presumed that was a sure bet. None of you, it seemed, had factored in a shitfaced game of Cluedo. 

“It was Mustard, in the Library, with the pipe,” Kino spoke into a highball glass, whisky half his lifeblood at present. 

“You’re Mustard, you twat,” Mel smacked him in the head, crunching a handful of twiglets. 

Ambessa had long since given up engaging, lent against the sofa with a grin as she met your gaze. As an only child you were not used to any kind of bickering over board games, making this confusing and tiring in equal measure. A sparkling, unknown cocktail sat in a gin glass in front of you. Unbeknownst to you, it contained over five shots of alcohol, hidden by sweet tea and cranberry juice. You may not have known, but by God could you feel it. 

A thick smokey scent wafted towards you mid gulp and hazy eyes widened. 

“The turkey!” You and Mel cried, scrambling to rescue a half scorched bird. 

So, it wouldn’t be the juiciest Turkey Crown you’d ever eaten, but the rest of it was salvageable. Namely because you all camped out in the kitchen from that moment onward, checking every five minutes for slowly roasting carrots and stuffing on the off chance they burnt within seconds. 

Candles of ivory and emerald glittered along the table as you took your place next to Mel. Your minorly fucked up feast had been served, your blood alcohol level begging for some kind of mass to soak up the metric tonne of vodka you’d ingested. It was good, great even, and yet you felt an odd emptiness. You hadn’t missed your Dad yet, and here it came, hurtling like a freight train into your roast dinner. Pushing peas around your plate like a petulant child, you munched at your inner cheek instead. 

She shouldn’t care that you weren’t eating, you were an adult and could look after yourself. Didn’t stop her own chews from slowing to halt as she scanned you. Your mouth twitched, eyes pensive, she hated it. Her eyes managed to catch yours, echoing a question and a comfort in one, heart hammering as your shoulders visibly relaxed and you ate a potato. Good. That was good. 

She seemed to smell weakness in you like a shark trailing blood, though she wielded this knowledge in a nicer way now. You felt an odd puncture, perhaps a lung giving out, as she grinned at you and ate a stuffing ball. 

Mel was drawing noughts and crosses in her left over gravy, your fingers fighting an equal battle in which a stalemate was always reached. The game sort of became impossible to win if both participants were over five years old, but it made you smile all the same. 

5pm rolled around, and with it your Dad’s phone call. It was brief, impersonal and hollow until you reached the news about the house. He knew, of course, as it was his fucking house but you blubbered excitedly all the same. He praised you for making good connections and you frowned. God he always had to be a knob. The call ended quickly after that and you wandered into the Cinema, flopping on Mel. 

“Call go okay?” Her fingers stroked hair from your face. 

“He’s a penis,” 

“Bailey’s Hot chocolate?” She already had a large, reindeer covered mug to offer you, cream and marshmallows floating like little life rafts. 

Perhaps this was the best Christmas of your life, and perhaps that filled you with a gaping despair unlike anything you’d ever known. Ambessa collapsed next to you and Mel, pulling you in close. Always there, mending and mutilating your soul. 

“Well,” She kissed Mel’s crown, “How has the day been my little wolves?”

“Good, Mum,” A loud slurp, “Best in a long time,” 

“Best I’ve ever had,” You admitted, uneasy and grateful. 

Both Medarda women kissed your cheek, the tactical manoeuvre from both sides crushing you. 

“Thanks by the way,” It felt like too little a sentence, brain blurred. 

“You are most welcome, Dear,” Ambessa gave you more soft eyes and calm grins. What the fuck did Christmas do to her?

“Play a game of Uno?” Mel interjected, the food and fizz in her system making her fidgety. 

“No more games,” You whined, “Game brain is dead,” 

“What then?”

“Well, I say I want to watch the Polar Express,” She pulled a blanket over her knees, yelling for Kino. 

“He’s out cold, food coma,” You muttered. 

“Little shit, he avoids this film every year,” 

“He doesn’t like Tom Hanks, Mum,” 

“And that’s my problem, why?” 

“Because you’re asking him to watch a film starring Tom Hanks?” You snipped obnoxiously. 

Ambessa immediately withheld the Celebrations tin she had been offering, smacking your fingers to drop the Twix, “Sarcastic children don’t get mini chocolates,” 

Mel munched happily on a Mars bar, your title of golden child stolen. 

Christmas came to a close slowly, the day fluttering shut in time with your weary eyelids. Your room was piled with things, but only Tigger made it to your bed. His inquisitive eyes seemed to know exactly how you felt about his giver, and you had to shove his face into your shoulder. 

“Shut up,” You slurred, to an inanimate object like a normal person, “I’ve got a good thing going here, she won’t ruin it,”

“Sure she won’t,” Tigger answered. Fuck, okay you were already asleep. 

Boxing Day passed in a blur, as did the dateless, insignificant days that led to New Year’s Eve. The new, slippery dance continued. Mel watched your interactions with her mother less, shoulders settling slightly, though a sharpness remained when you weren’t looking. 

New Year’s Eve arrived, and with it Another Bloody Party (shocker). 

“How can you be surprised?” Mel muttered, tugging on your hair, “You said yourself this is all rich people do,” 

“It’s different living it Babe,” You grumbled, “It’s exhausting, how do you manage?”

“Oh, well I-”

“Oh that’s right, none of you have jobs,” 

The heat of the curling iron became intimately acquainted with your ear. Mel kissed it better, sarcastically, as she finished the curl. “I have a job,”

“Uh..no you don’t,”

“Well I will when uni’s over,” Mel muttered, “I’ll make a name for myself,” 

“Is that name Medarda?” You really needed to stop antagonising the person holding the hot rod of metal to your skull. 

One thing was different this time round and that was the host. The Kirammans hosted New Year’s annually apparently, the party larger than even Ambessa’s summer barbeque. Having not yet had the privilege of seeing a different large house, you experienced shock and awe anew. It was more regal than Ambessa’s home, ornate marbles mingling with old tiling. It felt sterner in a way, though its occupants were far from that. Like a scene in a film, limousines flooded in and out, showcasing tottering heels and tailored suits. 

“Now,” Ambessa’s voice was a whispered grumble, “Best behaviour, I don’t want you lot embarrassing me,” 

Your face contorted, as did theirs, “What?”

“I’m joking darlings,” She squeezed you all, “I don’t give a shit about these people,”

“Said that rather loud, Mum,” Kino quipped. 

“Intentional, sweet boy,” 

Newness danced in every corner, Cait ready to grab you and shove her into every decorated crevice of her house. Cassandra Kiramman was far more blunt about keeping your group out of the way than Ambessa, gifting a whole wing of the house to your antics. There stood possibly every person aged 20-26 that Caitlyn had ever looked at in her life. Your inner circle were lounging, glittery and already a bit pissed, around a fucking conversation pit sofa. An actual, real inbuilt one. Nothing mattered for the two hours or so, cocktails and canapes shoved down you as you listened to Ekko explaining some physics thing that made you feel like an Egyptian having their brain removed. 

A girl, tanned with glossy blonde hair, had been making eyes at you for the better part of an hour and you were beginning to crumble under the pressure. She was hot, sure, but she wasn't her. Though, another few glasses down, you realised that might be a good thing. 

“Talk to her,” Viktor whispered, poking you in the side with his cane. Jayce showed his enthusiastic agreement through a scotch egg, making himself choke. 

Your version of the heimlich manoeuvre was to smack him as Ekko did the actual heimlich, before swaying up to the pretty girl batting her lashes. 

To say she was bored would have been the understatement of the century for Ambessa. Cassandra was less prone to recreational drugs and sordid corners, leaving her to discuss carpet swatches with Jayce’s mother. She was a kind woman, entirely not to Ambessa’s taste and the removal of the youngsters meant she couldn’t bother you. Or watch you from across every damn room you existed in. There wasn’t enough Moet to drown out the drivel and by quarter to eleven she was slinking away to find her drunk children. 

Cadence, you had learned her name was, was an angel. Bubbly, bright and tipsy, she made for a fantastic conversation partner. It was lame to ponder how you hadn’t even considered anyone other than Ambessa romantically, so you let her touch your arm fondly and press herself into your side on the armchair. She studied psychology at Durham and would soon be going to America for a work placement. What’s the psychology of searching for your best friend’s mother in every crowded room, you wondered? She was talking your ear off when your eyes found the very woman in your mind. 

Ambessa did not feel angry. It was a slight twinge, too much carbonation, a high pitched thrum against her sternum. What a pretty little blonde, all cosied close and eating up all your attention. How lovely for you. This is what parties were for, a fantastic meet cute to tell the grandkids. Shut up. Your face was relaxed, glossy lips parted in an easy smile. It wasn’t the same as the smile she caused of course, less genuine, less involuntary. She could tell, there wasn’t the slightest twitch to your cheek, and your posture was distant, eyes elsewhere. Eyes on..oh. Eyes on her. A slow wave, pulling her smile from you as you attempted poorly to split focus. You looked sinful, lent against a leather armchair with smooth, soft legs crossed. Images flashed through Ambessa, her head between your thighs as your nails gripped the leather for dear life or you curled in her lap rambling as she peppered your face with lipsticked kisses. A half hearted swallow, her mind a desperate tailspin of lust, jealousy and the unnamed other. Her hand rose slightly, golden eyes drilling into you as a hand began to subtly call you over. 

Sharp, angry nails sliced into her wrist, killing the summons. 

Mel stood, a sickly smile on her face, crushing her mother’s wrist. 

“Hello, Dear,” Ambessa smiled, fighting the twitch of her brow, “Was coming looking for you little wolves,” 

“Can you come to the loo with me,” Mel said, tipsy slur in her voice, “These heels are fucking my ankles,” 

WIth a nod, taking most of her body weight, she wandered off to the bathroom with her daughter. It was dark blue, much like the kitchen and the library and the Kiramman child’s hair, causing a giggle from Ambessa. 

Once the heavy metal lock clinked shut, she lent against the door with her eyes averted. Several beats passed with no noise save their breath. 

“Are you going to piss or what child?” 

“What the fuck is your problem?” Sadness, fury, resentment all rolled into one. Her beautiful hair was a halo for her anger, body a brick wall of frustration. 

“Excuse me?” It was a scoff, muscled arms crossed, “Did I not help you here?”

“Why won’t you leave her alone, Mum,” Mel stood toe to toe with her, dark eyes blazing, “She’s listened and tried and is taking all the shit I give her, but you,” 

A lecture was coming, stormy and vicious, one Ambessa may not survive. Here she thought it was girly toilet bonding time. No, you had interloped into another part of her life. 

“You,” She repeated, “Continue on like she’s one of your little things, like I haven’t said anything at all,” 

“I resent that,” Ambessa said, frown on her lips, “I’ve been civil and supportive, but distant just like you asked,”

“Distant in the way the iceberg was to the Titanic,” Mel snapped, swaying slightly. “Do you want to destroy her? Destroy me?” 

“Mel, I-” 

“I gave you rules for a reason, and you just don’t give a shit, do you?” Her hands were waving about wildly now, “You can’t bear being told no, respecting boundaries, listening to others,” 

“I thought I was doing as you asked, Child,” Her words were thunderous, form shaking with a terror Mel could not see. She was too close for comfort, a dog sniffing a trail she did not want followed. 

“Bullshit!” Mel’s thoughts were a slurry, a piece of the puzzle missing, “You gaze at her in every room, you touch her whenever you can, you steal any time with her you can get and-”

“That is enough,” Her lungs were beginning to ache, palms sweaty, “I do not need to be lectured by you again over insecure, inflated claims,” 

“You don’t get to tell me to be quiet, Mother,” She spat, “Explain yours-” Oh. Oh. Everything stilled, the picture shifting till it clicked. She had all the pieces, of course she did, she’d just confused a middle piece for a harmless corner component. 

Ambessa’s relief at her daughter’s sudden silence was crushed like a nut between a novelty nutcracker. 

“You’re in love with her,” Check.

“I-” She had named it before even Ambessa could, damned insufferable child, always too clever for her own good, her resistance a very confirmation “How ridiculous,” And Mate. 

Mel’s body shook with mirth, “You fell in love with my best friend,” 

“You are drunk and far more stupid than I gave you credit for,” 

“So what if I am drunk,” Her movements were looser now, “I’m right and You’re scared,”

“I don’t get scared,”

“I would have agreed, twenty minutes ago, but now?” Mel’s eyes met the minute tremor in her mother’s hands. 

Ambessa’s hand grips the cold, golden lock, body turning away as she let out an angry grunt. 

A repetition, cold and grounding, halted her “You fell in love with my best friend”

It felt so lovely to hear, to know, to feel. Awful to examine, gutting her like a prize salmon. This was the worst evening of Ambessa Medarda’s life. She was at odds here, pulled in terrible directions. The horrible, sordid truth was undeniable, complicating a messy story by adding an Act Three twist of predictable but no less epic proportions. Her daughter’s eyes were steady and stern despite her sway, any battle she put forward dissolving into sparks against Mel’s measured smile. Vulnerability was the only way forward, resistance gone, a mother’s love twisting her tongue towards painful truths, “I-I didn’t plan to, darling,”

It fell on deaf ears, “And she is in love with you right back,” 

“Unfortunately,” Ambessa choked, body tight.

Mel sat precariously on the bathtub, pulling a miniature from between her boobs and downing it, “This simplifies things,” 

“It does?” 

A loud knock, and indistinct whining from behind the door. 

“Fuck off, There are twenty two toilets in this house” Mel shouted, flicking the empty bottle into the tiny bin, before turning back to her, “And yes, yes it does,”

“Do enlighten me,” She snarked, wondering if she could magically summon tequila from her own chest. 

“Love I can begrudgingly figure out, it matters,” Her teeth kissed her tongue, “But what do you offer her?”

“Sorry?” Words were precious currency to Ambessa at present, unable to grapple with the situation she had stumbled into.

“She makes you an infinitely better person, whilst assimilating to your lifestyle,” A heavy breath, “But you’re an older, emotionally impotent bitch with a history of ruining every romantic relationship you’ve ever been in,” 

Jesus fucking Christ. “Are you hazing me in the Kiramman’s bathroom about my eligibility?”

“Yes,” Mel quipped, “Someone has to, if you’re going to start dating,”

“I never said I have any intention of doing such a thing,” Ambessa growled, “She’s over twenty years my junior, and your friend,” 

A giggle, “You didn’t give a shit about either of those things when you were fucking her,”

“Well that’s,”

“Different, is it? Why?”

“This is ridiculous, I don’t have to listen to this,”

“You do, if you want to keep a relationship with me,”

“Are you going to lord that over my head for the rest of my life?” A crimson sneer deepened, “Isn’t it tiresome?”

“What’s tiresome is you being avoidant,” Mel glared at her, arms crossing, “Selfish? Manipulative? Common tools of the Medarda trade, but this cowardly denial is embarrassing,”

“I am not a coward,” It was a sudden burst, body rushing forward to meet hers.

“Prove it then, you idiot,” A nail stabbed into Ambessa’s chest, “Prove that it’s real, that you can offer her more than money and sex,” 

“But why?” Her mouth was dry, “What’s your goal here?”

“I want to see you happy,” She sighed, level gaze eating Ambessa’s soul, “The woman before me is entirely new, better than I thought possible, if it takes encouraging this to keep her then I’ll write your damn love notes for you,” 

“We are not having this conversation now,” Sense returned, sludgy and damp, dirtied by her emotions, “We will have it sober, at some point tomorrow,” 

“You’re not pushing this away,” The nail dug deeper, “It’s now or never, tell me why I should let you date my best friend,”

Ambessa’s mind was a dark red blanket of rage and panic, hand crushing around her daughter’s wrist, “What do you want from me?” 

“Say anything!”

“Like WHAT? Like I miss the weight of her on my chest as I sleep, the relief of knowing she’s safe,” She was shaking, a furious animal fighting against a certain fate, “Or th-that she makes me want to be the better version of myself that she sees, just to keep that smile on her stupid, soft fucking face,”

Mel’s hand moved upwards and reached out, a tender stroke on her mother’s cheek, “Perfect, Mum,” 

With that it seemed she had deemed the interaction over, leaving her stunned and rabid as she slipped out of the blue room in search of Jayce, or Viktor, or most likely both. 

You were struggling to socialise now, brain lagging against the alcohol and noise, longing for the quiet weed fuelled haze of the Medarda games room. Cadence had clocked your distant lack of interest before you did, wandering off and leaving you with a rambling Powder. Her and Ekko truly were a match made in heaven. It was nearly midnight and the party was so vibrant your eyes ached. 

Time to hide, time to be anti-social. Nobody to kiss, nobody you wanted to anyway. 

Confusing corridors, long and ornate, as you slipped under a secluded marble staircase. Deep, soothing breaths, the darker lighting a balm. 

Ambessa found that splashing her face with cold water was doing absolutely nothing. A dam she could not rebuild had burst and it was merciless, yearning for one thing and one thing alone. You were a siren, sent to kill her, sent to punish her. You were an angel, her salvation. Uncertain steps stormed out of the room, wandering aimlessly towards the party.

The countdown, though far away now, was as audible as if Vi was screaming in your ear. 

10

What an odd year to be seeing the back of, everything changed and everything the same. 

9

Glitter coated your skin as you made your resolution, firm and sure. 

8

You would move on from Ambessa Medarda, even if it killed you. She would not follow you into this new chapter. 

7

You emptied your champagne glass, peace settling in you. 

6

Ambessa flung the door open, hinges trembling, as she looked down the long corridor. 

5

Countdown time already? How long had she spent in that fucking bathroom?

4

The fabric of her trousers swished as she slipped towards the staircase, seeking a darker solace. 

3

A resolution, a stupid tradition, a propeller forward. She would tell you how she felt, even if it killed her. 

2

Shocked eyes lock, room spinning, dark alcove shielding them from reality.

1

Time slows. A war fought valiantly, lost to the hazy fog. Clashing, hungry, yearning lips. Red on smooth gloss. Hair tugged, breath stolen. 

Happy New Year!

[roseofhybrids]

(we have no chimney. where the fuck is he coming from.)

through 👏 the 👏 pipes 👏

he 👏 comes 👏 up 👏 the 👏 toilet 👏 like 👏 a 👏 sewer 👏 rat 👏

Something came to mind earlier while thinking about what kind of Christmas shopping I should do this year

did you guys truly believe in Santa / when did someone tell you he wasn't real / when you were told, did it come as a shock?

because personally, I was never directly told he wasn't. (I mean, people say he isn't in movies all the time, but there's also a lot of movies where they say he isn't when in fact he is actually real in that universe and the people who said he wasn't real get proved wrong. So like the idea was there, but no one ever looked at me and said he was fake)

but at the same time, I'm not sure that I ever believed he was real in the first place. I can't think of a time when I ever truly bought into the idea that him and all the other holiday mascots were actual living, breathing things. And didn't treat it like a giant game of pretend that everyone is in on (which I mean, that is pretty much what it is) So whenever an adult explained some Santa Claus lore, I just viewed it as being part of the game. How does Santa get inside when there's no chimney? Oh, well, he shrinks down and comes in through the pipes (which pipes? No idea, the adult that told me that didn't elaborate). Sure why not, this is make believe after all, might as well go along with that

so I guess I'm just curious to hear if any of you were convinced that he was real when you were younger and how things went finding out he wasn't

[santatrackershowdown]

All Santas have been in the air for at least 12 hours. Halftime status update!

Google Santa's lead is steadily shrinking, but it's still there with 4.8 billion gifts delivered! As I type this, he is heading to Nuremberg, Germany.

As I mentioned, NORAD Santa is catching up, now at 4.2 billion! He is currently heading to Kiffa, Mauritania

Our favorite(?) Santa, The Santa Tracker, is already visiting the UK, currently going to Scotland. I suspect he did not do a great job covering Africa, but it's harder to track past locations with him. Of the roughly 230 million houses he's visited, at most only 183 million have left him anything to consume (97 million cookies, 85 million milk). I think he deserves this.

Fusible Santa, sure enough, has passed the 1 billion presents mark! And only 27,000 cookies eaten. Currently in Belgium, and his route during this phase baffles me, why does he put off so much of Africa for so long?

Santa Update: last seen over Tunisia. And as always, I feel we should call out his lack of sightings in Africa. If he can stop almost 20 times in Australia, he can spare more than at most one per country here.

[lavenderinkart]

I hope everyone had a happy Christmas this year.

This piece is one I did for the TES Secret Santa event hosted by @scorchedcandy here on Tumblr. This year, I got @arimabari, also known as @kyneforged, and this piece features his Dragonborn character Tatia Stormcrown.

Unfortunately, I had to shrink the image to fit the file size constraints here on Tumblr, so the full resolution piece will be available on my DeviantArt (HERE) and my Cara (HERE).

[ultram0th]

December 07: Derek Hale

00 │ 01 │ 02 │ 03 │ 04 │ 05 │ 06 │ 07

It was Derek and Stiles’s first Christmas together. Even an emotionally stunted werewolf like Derek knew what that meant: He’d have to get his boyfriend a gift. That also meant that he’d have to brave the stores during the holiday season, which also meant that he’d be surrounded by people. A lot of people.

Derek had his perpetual scowl etched onto his gruff face as he stomped angrily through the mall, holding back growls when other patrons would accidentally bump into him.

With the massive influx of people combined with the annoying Christmas music blaring over the speakers, Derek was in a pretty bad mood to say the least. He snarled as he stomped his way through the busy mall, unsure of what to buy Stiles. He just knew that it had to be something that his boyfriend would enjoy and want to use over and over.

The grumpy werewolf was so caught up in the overstimulation and irritation that he hadn’t noticed the mall Santa Claus until he bumped into the man.

The mall Santa stumbled back, but seemed to be in good spirits as he laughed the interaction off. “In a hurry, Sir?” he asked in his trademark jolly voice.

Derek looked the large man in red up and down, his frown still superglued to his face. He just grunted out a response and gave a curt nod.

“Would a candy cane cheer you up?” Santa Claus asked, holding out the red and white sweet to the werewolf.

Derek scowled at the candy cane, notoriously hating sweets.

“It might help you out with some Christmas cheer,” the mall Santa coaxed. “Or maybe you need a little more help with getting into the holiday spirit?” The older man snapped his gloved fingers mischievously.

As he rolled his eyes, Derek felt an odd tingling sensation break out over his skin. The scent of peppermint hit his nostrils and became overwhelming, making the werewolf begin to sway a little on his feet. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, a sign that the man before him was more than just some mall Santa Claus.

Derek tried to steel his nerves and he squared his broad shoulders. “Who are you…” Derek’s question trailed off when he heard an almost helium-like quality to his voice, as if it had shot up by several octaves. 

The tough werewolf’s face turned bright red at the sound of his altered voice, but he cleared his throat before trying again.

“What the hell did you do?” he squeaked in his higher voice, even pointing an accusing finger at the man in red. However, that alerted to Derek to another terrible occurrence.

The werewolf could feel his heart starting to race in his muscled chest when he saw that the sleeve of his leather jacket completely covered his pointing hand, something that should’ve been impossible due to the alpha’s impressive height. Even during his panic, Derek managed to noticed that instead of looking the other man eye to eye like he had before, he was staring directly at the man’s bearded chin.

Derek began to shove his way through the crowd so that he could get to a secluded area, away from prying eyes. As he bolted, the werewolf was humiliated to realize that he was quickly becoming one of the shortest people in the mall. That, and for another strange reason, the more Derek shrank, the tighter his clothes actually became as opposed to looser. Even his gait was starting to change and Derek could feel his thighs starting to rub against each other in a way they never had before.

Derek burst into the bathroom and sprinted towards the mirror, gasping loudly at what he saw. 

The first thing that the alpha werewolf’s eyes honed on were his ears, which were now pointed at the top and slightly elongated to resemble elf ears. But then Derek’s attention was to brought to the rest of his shrinking body.

“What the fuck is going on?!” Derek panicked in his high-pitched voice as he saw that he was way shorter than he should have been. The bathroom sink came up to him mid-chest, and his leather jacket fell off of him and landed onto the floor, alerting Derek to even more. The werewolf gasped again as he realized that he wasn’t shrinking proportionally. Instead, it was more like he was squished down, losing his height but none of his mass.

Derek held his arms out in front of himself, watching as they pulled inwards. All of his muscle was left to bunch up within the shortened limbs, leaving them all thick and bulky, more akin to an oversized bodybuilder’s arms. His biceps ballooned out to the size of bowling balls, being so large and thick that Derek was forced to keep his arms out at his sides with them stuck at a ninety degree angle. The same thing happened with his legs— as they shortened, all the muscle in there got all bunched up and thick, forcing Derek to stand with them flared out as this wide thighs kept pressing against one another. His shoulders broadened to an obscene degree, ripping the werewolf’s shirt to shreds. As his torso squished down, his pecs bulged out further in front of him, forming a large shelf that he couldn’t see over. A part of Derek was relieved that his cock didn’t undergo the same transformation, but with it remaining its previous size on his compact body, it dangled to his knees.

Derek was floored, silent as he studied his new form in the mirror. He looked as tall as he was wide, having lost about half of his height but none of his muscles. He looked like a really short bodybuilder, and all of the compressed muscles made it extremely difficult for the werewolf to move.

He blushed when he tried to take a step forward, his thighs rolling over one another’s exaggerated girth, forcing his walk to resemble more of a waddle. His long cock dangled wildly between his legs as he moved. His arms were stuck out at his sides, and his pecs protruded far out in front of him, preventing him from seeing the ground.

Derek looked like an over-muscled elf!

“Well, that’s a good look for you, Derek,” the mall Santa Claus mused he entered bathroom. “Sorry about all of that bulky muscle, I can never get the shrinking spell just right.”

“What the fuck did you do?!” Derek tried to roar, but his squeaky voice ruined all of his toughness. He tried to hold his hands out at his sides, but his bulky muscle made it difficult to maneuver.

Santa Claus gave one of his classic, bellowing laughs. “Isn’t it obvious, Derek?” he teased. “You were looking like you were lacking some of that Christmas cheer, so I thought that you could use some help.” He then held out a handful of candy canes. “Why don’t you help me pass some of these out to the other shoppers? Then I’ll consider changing you back.”

The mall Santa Claus snapped his fingers again, and a pair of bright green shorts formed on Derek’s squished body. They were skintight and they left his noticeable bulge out in front and center. His enormous looking chest was forced to remain bare, his ballooned pecs looking hilariously big and cumbersome.

Derek’s broadened shoulders rose and fell as he sighed, taking the candy canes from the mall Santa and waddling behind him, trying to get the hang of moving around with such bulky muscles hindering his steps.

For the rest of the day, Derek helped the mall Santa Claus pass out candy canes to the shoppers in the mall. Many of them would muse over how large his muscles looked on his shortened body, a lot of them even asking him to flex for them. Despite himself, Derek would find himself flexing his massive muscles as best as he could, his face bright red. “Merry Christmas,” he’d say at the end of his posing routine as he passed the customer a candy cane, his high-pitched voice usually eliciting a few chuckles.

Much to his surprise, Derek found himself starting to actually have fun with the whole ordeal as the day went on. He started to feel himself being filled with an odd sense of joy as he passed out the sweet treats to the other shoppers, and he even got a little giddy when he would flex his large muscles for them, leaving the shoppers with a wide smile.

“Merry Christmas!” Derek exclaimed in his squeaky voice as he handed a candy cane to another customer.

“Derek?” he heard Stiles’s voice ask, confused.

Derek blushed when he looked up and saw his boyfriend staring down at him with wide eyes. 

“Oh, um, hey Stiles,” Derek squeaked, his face growing bright red. “I’m, um, trying to get more into the Christmas cheer.” Out of instinct due to his work for the day, Derek lifted his barely flexible arms to pose for his surprised boyfriend.

Stiles’s eyes widened even more, and Derek could pick up on his arousal.

“You like… this?” Derek asked, surprised. He gestured down at his short, muscled frame. 

Much to the werewolf’s surprise, his boyfriend nodded. “You look… really hot!” he smiled. “It’s the best present you could’ve given me!”

Immediately, Derek felt his compressed body swell with pride and he hit another pose. “R-really?” he squeaked, feeling excited that he might have inadvertently gotten his boyfriend a good present. “Well, Merry Christmas, Stiles!” Derek formed a most muscular pose, his tiny body flexing with power and loving how turned on his boyfriend looked.

A/N: Yeah, it the final photos are AI. I can't do muscle compression morphs, so I decided to go this route. I hope you don't mind!

[maletfwitch]

“Sup bro” my former dweeb brother greets me in front of the tree. I almost didn’t recognize him he was always a bit more on the chubby side and was kinda short but now he's taller than me.

“Santa gave me this magical hat that transformed me now I'm a total hottie” he began flexing his new muscles with a cocky grin before taking off his hat and handing it to me “Maybe you need to give it a try”

I grabbed the hat and put it on excitedly before I felt myself begin to shrink and my muscles drain away as I got chubbier.

“It’s time for you to give being the chubby dweeb brother a try 'lil bro’” he said with a smug look on his face.

[yourstrulysylus]

A Nonsense Christmas (a Sylus point of view)

Sylus had never cared much for the holidays—just another day in a chaotic life of deals and missions. But now, with her around, even the simplest traditions held meaning. She had a way of making even nonsense feel extraordinary.

The serene moment was interrupted when his vinyl record abruptly stopped, leaving the room in silence. Sylus frowned, about to investigate, when she strolled into the living room. Wearing nothing but a Santa hat, a short red fur-lined cape, and heels, she instantly turned his irritation into a sly smirk. He leaned back, intrigued, wondering what she would do next.

Before he could utter a word, Luke and Kieran followed her lead, stepping into the room. Both were dressed to match the theme—maroon suits, Santa hats, elf ears—and, of course, still donning their signature masks. The unlikely sight brought a chuckle from Sylus as he set his book aside, prepared for whatever antics were about to unfold.

“She paid us extra, boss,” Luke murmured, his tone low but amused.

“Just sit back and relax. We’ve got no idea what she’s planning—we’re just here for one job,” Kieran added with a shrug.

But Sylus wasn’t paying attention to either of the twins. His eyes were fixed solely on her as she stood front and center in his living room. Then, suddenly, she broke the silence.

“Hit it.”

Luke pressed play on the stereo, and Kieran hoisted the speakers into the air like a stagehand at a makeshift concert.

With a dramatic flourish, she shrugged off her red cape, revealing a sultry red off-shoulder dress, black tights, and a microphone in hand. Sylus’s eyes widened, his jaw tightening slightly—this outfit was something he thought should be reserved for his eyes only.

“Think I only want you under my mistletoe,” she began, her voice smooth and teasing as she locked eyes with him.

“I might change your contact to ‘Has a Huge North Pole,’

You said you like my stockings better on the floor.

Boy, I’ve been a bad girl, I guess I’m gettin’ coal.”

She swayed her hips, a slow and deliberate motion that seemed to make the room shrink to just the two of them. For a brief moment, the world felt like it moved in slow motion. That sway, that smirk—it was all for him.

“Let me come warm you up, you’ve been out in the snow.

Baby, my tongue goes numb, sounds like ‘ho-ho-ho.’

I don’t want Santa’s elves underneath this ol’ tree—”

She pointed at the twins, who, much to Sylus’s amusement, had begun snapping their fingers and stiffly moving their hips in time with the beat.

“Here’s a little carol I wrote, it’s about you and me,” she continued, her tone softening slightly as she gestured between herself and Sylus, her gaze growing more serious.

Then she began to walk toward him, her voice never faltering as she sang,

“You’re my wish list, looking at you got me thinking Christmas.”

Her eyes were magnetic, the kind of siren’s gaze that could make anyone weak in the knees. Sylus gripped the armrests of his seat, fighting to maintain his composure as she drew closer, her every movement designed to test his restraint.

She tossed her hair back as she sang, “You’ll be Santa Claus, and I’ll be Mrs.,

I’ll take you for a ride, I’ll be your vixen.” Her finger twirled the diamond engagement ring he’d given her two years ago, catching the light with every move. That ring had been an impulsive decision—like most things with her. He still remembered the way she’d laughed when he pulled it out of his pocket, halfway through a mission, saying, “Now or never.” She’d chosen ‘now,’ and he’d never looked back.

Sylus couldn’t decide if he was more captivated by her flawless performance—singing and dancing without a single misstep—or the way his pulse quickened at the sight of that ring, a reminder of their bond. Either way, he was left torn between awe and desire.

“I’ll give her due credit after the performance,” he thought, unaware of the faint smirk tugging at his lips as he watched the scene unfold. He wrestled with the urge to maintain his stoic demeanor or openly praise her in front of his men.

Sylus felt the room close in on him, the weight of his responsibilities, of his position, pressing down. She’s doing this to you on purpose, he thought, trying to remind himself that this was all just a game. A performance. A distraction. His wife knew exactly how to push his buttons. But this wasn’t just any holiday routine. This was her. In a red dress. Singing. The tension between wanting to lose himself in the moment and keeping his cool was almost unbearable.

Don’t fall for it, he told himself. But it was hard not to when she sang, when her eyes locked with his, her lips curling into that smile—one he knew all too well. The smile that meant she had him exactly where she wanted him.

But this wasn’t just about attraction. This was about control. You’re in charge, he reminded himself. But the ache in his chest, the pull in his gut, suggested otherwise. She was in charge now. And he was helpless to resist.

It was like a dream wrapped in red velvet and mistletoe.

Sylus leaned back in his chair, his arms folded, trying to keep a cool facade as she approached, each of her movements intentional, playful, and impossible to ignore. The twin’s stiff, yet enthusiastic dancing was a far cry from the sensuality she brought, and it made Sylus chuckle despite himself.

When she reached him, she stopped for a moment, looking at him with those familiar mischievous eyes—eyes that had stolen his heart the moment they met. She didn’t need to say anything more; the way she held that microphone, the way she had spun those lyrics into something personal—it was clear. She was making her own rules, in her own way, on her own terms.

“And here I thought you just wanted to relax this holiday,” she teased, her voice playful as she stopped in front of him, still singing the last few lines with that sultry smile.

Sylus couldn’t help it. He chuckled, finally breaking the tension. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” he said, leaning forward slightly.

“You should know that by now,” she replied, her tone low, teasing. She let the music continue, moving in a slow circle around him.

Luke and Kieran, still swaying and snapping their fingers behind her, both exchanged a glance, clearly trying to gauge if they were about to witness something beyond their usual chaotic holiday antics.

She gave Sylus one last look, swaying her hips just a little more dramatically before ending the song with a dramatic spin and a playful wink.

The room fell silent for a moment as the last note of the song faded out.

“Well,” Sylus said, his voice smooth, “I guess that’s one way to celebrate Christmas.” He slowly stood up, his smirk still playing at the corners of his mouth. “You sure know how to make an entrance.”

She raised an eyebrow, the mischief still lingering in her expression. “I had to make it memorable.”

Sylus chuckled again, crossing the short distance between them. “Mission accomplished,” he murmured, pulling her into a kiss, one that promised plenty of ‘nonsense’ of its own for the rest of the evening.

Luke and Kieran exchanged another look, their usual banter lost in the background of the moment. “Alright, boss, we’ll just… uh, see ourselves out,” Luke said, pulling Kieran by the arm as the two quickly shuffled away.

They didn’t need to know what would happen next—they were just happy to have gotten paid extra for the show.

As the last note of her song lingered in the air, she leaned in close, her voice soft but teasing. “So, boss… did I earn my Christmas bonus?”

Sylus smirked, pulling her gently down onto his lap, his hands settling on her waist. “You’ve been on my ‘nice’ list all year,” he murmured, his voice low and warm. “But right now, I think I prefer you on the ‘naughty’ one.”

She laughed softly, the sound melting into a contented sigh as his lips brushed against hers, slow and deliberate. The world outside the window blurred into a wash of snowflakes and distant lights, forgotten in the heat of the moment.

The fire crackled softly in the background as the warmth between them grew. Her hands slid over his shoulders, pulling him closer, her Santa hat slipping off in the process. Sylus caught it with one hand, tossing it onto the floor with a quiet chuckle.

The twins’ muffled laughter could be heard retreating down the hall, their voices fading as they wisely made their exit. The room grew quieter, save for the occasional pop of the fire and the soft sounds of her breath mingling with his.

By the time the snowstorm outside picked up, the two of them had sunk into the couch, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world forgotten.

[fandomnerd9602]

Kara: for the last time, Clark and I are not secretly Santa Claus!

Y/N: and I don’t open mystic portals for them or shrink presents. why can’t you understand that, Shazam? It’s like you have the brain of a kid

Shazam: well…umm…pfft. I don’t have the brain of a kid. I’m a man. A manly man who does…manly things.

Kara and Y/N fly off…

Shazam: merry Christmas! Does this mean I’m part of the Justice League?!

[dynamoe]

REDRAW Venture Bros S01E10 "Tag Sale— You're It!"

→ → to all Billy Quizboy & Pete White posts

The scene where Mr. White and Master Billy (they didn't have full names yet) try to sell Dr. Girlfriend on becoming their nemesis opens with a tilt (camera moves up-down on X-axis), which I patched together from multiple screenshots.

This episode is officially Conjectural Technologies first appearance post-pilot, but the episode order was scrambled. Even as early as this episode is, when everything looked kinda “off” in general, in this scene in particular the proportions are very odd.

Dr. Girlfriend is enormous. It's not from a forced perspective/"wide lens" effect since even White is looking up at her— she really is like 7 feet tall here. The stretch is somewhat hidden by the tilt. She's supposed to be barely 5' (according to Doc on a commentary track)— a petite lady. Meanwhile, Billy's way too small in the shot. He's usually level with White's top row of buttons.

I rejiggered the proportions while faithfully recreating the poses, which I find both static/boring (the boys) + weird (why are her hands posed like that?) If I recall, I don't think anyone moves in this shot, just the simulated camera angle, so it may have been one drawing so no one could move, explaining the stiff poses.

Looks like I accidentally created a new subtext. White gives Billy judgemental side-eye for looking up with reverential joy at Dr. Girlfriend about to bless him with a laying-on of hands on his big ol' melonhead.

When I've drawn White with his parasol before, I used the typical Japanese design. I considered maybe the canon brolly might have been based on a Thai (or another Southeast Asian culture's) design. When it comes back in a later episode it has more of an inverse curve to it that you see in old temple roofs.

I've searched everywhere for a real life parasol with this design. Nothing. The closest I can find are big beach umbrellas at fancy resorts, but they aren't open at the top with criss-crossing ribs. Venture Bros takes place in a world very much like ours, but with subtle differences. This umbrella is one of those differences.

In my redraw, I added a Santa windsock. If you don't know why, turn in your fan club card, you POSEUR.

I found this abandoned drawing on my backup drive from 2021. Decided to finish it as self-care. (I'm moving in two weeks and very stressed out.)

First time (kinda) drawing Dr. Girlfriend. Only my fourth VB character drawn after, like, four years? Fifth if you count the Rusty Venture action figure.

What did they do with the Santa Windsock? Which one wanted it? Did Venture refuse sell it to them after he threw a snit over the Shrink Ray? He claims he won't sell the Shrink Ray to them in that scene (because they said the logo was stupid), but then they have it (in pieces) in their possession when he comes looking for it in Escape to the House of Mummies (Part II)

→ to Master Billy Quizboy & Pete White index

edited to add a further idea....

If only the show had an unlimited animation budget, it'd be more in character for Billy to be jumping around and gesturing wildly while making his pitch to be her nemesis. Sweaty. Hard sell.

...and smoking. (My version of Billy smokes.)

[fluentmoviequoter]

Merry and Bright

Day 9 of 12 Days of Ficmas

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader (The Rookie)

Summary: You invite Tim over on Christmas Eve, but he says he's working. A Christmas miracle occurs and Tim knocks on your door, presents in tow.

Word Count: 1.4k+ words

Warnings: so much fluff. How the Grinch Stole Christmas references. Tim is probably OOC. I made up some stuff about Tim and his sister.

A/N: I haven't written for Tim Bradford yet, so please feel free to leave feedback and let me know what you think! I'd like to keep writing for him and try to capture his amazing character better so please feel free to send requests if you have any!

Masterlist Directory | Request Info (& full fandom list)

Since you inserted yourself into Tim’s life, barging your way in with a basket of goodies after moving in next door, he has quickly become one of your best friends. If he’s undeniably handsome and one of the most caring men you’ve ever met despite his grumpy exterior, so what? You asked yourself that the first time you invited him over for dinner, but now it’s a weekly occurrence, and it is your week to cook.

Your favorite one-pan dish is in the oven, and the game is queued on your television, but all that’s missing is Tim Bradford. As you decorated for Christmas this year, you thought about him and how his sister isn’t coming to LA for the holidays, leaving him alone. You’ve since decided to do something about that.

“Anyone home?” Tim asks as he opens your door. “Because I know I’ve told you more times than I can count to lock your door.”

You look around the corner and smile at him as you argue, “My neighbor’s a cop, it’ll be fine.”

“Sergeant, not a cop.”

“My apologies, Sergeant Bradford.”

He smiles at you, less rare than it used to be, but a moment you take the time to appreciate, never knowing when he will grace you with another one.

“So, I know your sister isn’t visiting,” you begin, “and I was wondering if you’d be interested in spending Christmas here?”

Tim glances at your Christmas tree before answering. “I would love to, and I can’t thank you enough for thinking of me and offering, but I’m working Christmas Eve.”

“Okay,” you say, nodding as you smile. “I just wanted to extend the invitation.”

You turn around to remove dinner from the oven, and Tim places a hand on your arm, stopping you.

“Thank you,” he repeats quietly and bordering on reverent. “I really appreciate it.”

“Of course. You’re always welcome here.”

“I’m sorry. I would come if I could.”

“Tim, it’s fine. I’ll just have to give you your giant stack of gifts later,” you tease.

Tim nods, removing his hand from your arm and watching you turn away, his heart trying to decide whether it wants to shrink or grow.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Bradford, are you good?” Wade asks as he leaves the station.

“Fantastic,” he mumbles. Wade looks at him, unconvinced, and he sighs before saying, “I just wish I could be somewhere else. I’m glad I could help out the officers with families, with kids, and give them the night off, but…”

“You’re regretting it?” Wade finishes.

“Not exactly.”

“Well, if you want to come over when you get off, we’ll leave the lights on,” Wade offers.

“Thanks,” Tim says. He doesn’t add: I’ve got somewhere else I’d rather be.

Someone walks up behind Tim and places a Santa hat on his head.

“Cheer up, Grinchy,” Angela calls, walking out of the station. “Merry Christmas, Tim!”

“Yeah,” Tim says, more to himself than her.

“Dude, we need to find you a K9 named Max, finish off the Grinch look,” Aaron teases, sitting next to Tim as his shift begins. He’s working tonight for the same reason Tim is: to let the officers with families spend Christmas with their loved ones.

“Oh, should we get him a little heart pin, too, and try to make it grow?” Nolan chimes in.

“Sorry, Bradford, but you’re just so… Grinchy,” Aaron says.

Tim laughs, shaking his head as the Santa hat shifts with his movement. Nolan and Aaron look at each other in horror and amusement at the fact that Tim Bradford, who is wearing a Santa hat, just laughed. Tim, however, is only thinking of you and how you’d absolutely agree with them. Although, if you were here, or if he was with you, he wouldn’t be quite so Grinchy.

“Merry Christmas, LAPD!” Officer Jan announces, entering the station in a full Santa costume. “I have come to relieve one lucky soul of Christmas Eve duty.”

“Bradford!” Aaron and Nolan yell. “He has somewhere to be.”

“How do you-?” Tim asks.

“It’s all over your face,” Aaron says as Nolan answers, “Go get her… whoever she is.”

Tim looks at Jan, who nods encouragingly. Tim jumps to his feet and runs to his locker. He’s heading home for Christmas, but he has one stop. As he changes before climbing in his truck, he makes a mental list of everything he needs. Merry Christmas to all, Tim thinks.

✯✯✯✯✯

You smile at the ending of the Christmas movie on your television, your thoughts drifting to Tim as you wonder what it would be like to have him here. As you try to focus on the movie again, someone knocks on your door.

When you open it, you don’t expect to see Tim in a Santa hat and holding several gift bags. Your eyes widen, and your smile returns as you let him in, closing the door behind him. He opens his mouth to say something, but you wrap your arms around his shoulders and hug him tightly before he gets the chance. His arms wrap around you, loosely at first, before tightening when a Christmas song begins playing through your speakers as the credits roll. 

“I brought gifts,” he says against your shoulder.

“You didn’t have to. I just wanted to see you,” you reply.

He squeezes you once more, and you slowly step back, pulling out of the hug and looking up into Tim’s eyes.

“You brought hot chocolate?” you ask, stealing a peek into one of the bags.

“It’s Christmas,” he answers, as if it’s obvious.

“Didn’t take you for the sentimental type.”

“I’m not always.”

You smile and gesture for him to follow you, leading him into the kitchen and pulling two Christmas-themed mugs from your cupboard.

“Thank you for coming,” you tell him.

“Thanks for inviting me.”

✯✯✯✯✯

After making the hot chocolate, you return to the couch and turn on A Charlie Brown Christmas as you resist leaning into Tim’s side.

“This is one of my favorites,” he says quietly, “my sister and I watched it every time it was on cable growing up.”

“It’s a classic,” you agree.

“We would watch it, drink hot cocoa or cider, whatever was in the kitchen, and exchange one gift on Christmas Eve,” Tim adds.

“Do you want to open a gift?” you ask, facing him. “There’s only a few hours until Christmas anyway.”

Tim thinks for a moment and then smiles at you. “Just one.”

You stand, retrieving a small box from under the tree while he pulls a gift from one of the bags. When you sit back down, you sit a little closer than before. He opens his present first, smiling and leaning in to hug you as he thanks you. When you open yours, you see a gift you’ve wanted for years but no one ever remembered. You start to thank him, but something happens along the way, and instead, your lips land on his. His hand raises to your arm as he reciprocates, but you realise your mistake (was it really a mistake? you ask yourself) and pull back.

“I’m sorry,” you say.

His hand slides up your arm to rest at the back of your neck. You see a new smile as he pulls you back in. Pressing your hand against his chest, you stop yourself.

“Are you sure?” you whisper.

“Have you ever seen me so merry and bright?” he asks, his smile the widest you’ve ever seen.

You pick up the pompom at the end of his Santa hat and chuckle. “You are pretty cuddly,” you reply, noticing his other arm has wrapped around your waist. 

He rolls his eyes, still smiling as he kisses you again. You shift backward, your hand landing on the remote and resuming the movie. Tim laughs as he pulls back, pulling you against him.

“How’d you get off work?” you ask.

“Jan came in and offered to cover for one of us, and I was volunteered because I was being too ‘Grinchy.’”

You gasp in faux surprise. “Tim Bradford? You? Grinchy? I can’t imagine it.”

He smiles, and you lean in to kiss him again, your new favorite pastime.

“Thank you for coming. This is the best Christmas ever,” you say against his lips.

“Until next year?” Tim asks.

“What happens next year?”

“We’ll see.”

“And for now we’re merry and bright?” you respond.

“The merriest and the brightest,” Tim jokes, pulling you against his side as Charlie Brown appears on screen.

Merry and Bright, indeed.