#well some productive is better than no productive

[callmegallifreya]

I shall tell you a secret about your wool, your cashmere, the delicate fainting fabrics two whom heat is a death knell.

Necromancy is real.

Also, your dead wool may be better for it.

Also-also nobody here has actually said how to clean it without killing it so I'll add that too.

So - within reason, the doll's jumper is not going back to an adult, but hear me out here.

If you have washed your jumper a tad too warm, or on a normal wash setting, and perhaps it is now of a more suitable size for a child, a lot of the shrinkage may be caused by felting.

Felting is when the wet fibres, with the scales that make up the outer layer lifted by detergent and heat, lock to each other like tangled christmas lights. The more you agitate them, the more felted they get. This is why the delicate cycle on your machine doesn't so much churn up your woolens as it does let them soak and gently wavepool side to side occasionally to circulate the water.

Felted or boiled wool has no gaps. When all of the fibres have locked together it is windproof, nearly waterproof, and will never unravel. You can cut a hole in felt and it will only get bigger if you tear it bigger. Depending on the degree of felting it may be thicker now too.

With that out of the way, what is the necromancy side of this?

Well, if you get it wet again, depending on the level of felting, your wool will stretch right back out.

If you see a new wool garment, you'll see the washing instructions say "reshape when wet". This is because just like your hair, if you let it dry in a funny position it'll stay that way. We've all accidentally let one dry on a radiator or over a corner and ended up with a very odd shaped bit of fabric.

Felting is just a very funny position for wool. It's basically matted, wet hair.

I've seen recommendations for using hair conditioner and other products here to help loosen it up, which I haven't tried - certainly give it a go, especially if your jumper is more delicate or only a little felted. It may come back to life with no/very little further intervention. I've had great results with sheer brute force.

Disclaimer: I am a limp noodle and my idea of "pull hard" is not the same as everyone's.

Get that jumper absolutely drenched in your solution of choice (I do it after a wash so woolite, there are lots of guides and recommendations online for best results), grab it on opposite sides and pull. Enlist a friend for even better (and more even) results. Pull in the direction of the knit and across the knit but not diagonally if you can avoid it.

There will probably be concerning ripping noises if there's any more than a tiny bit of felting, like velcro pulling apart. It's fine. Keep pulling. (Steady pressure, don't yank)

Don't forget to do the arms in both directions too, you want them wide enough to get your own arm back inside them.

Stop when your clothing is the size and shape you want it to be. You can even try it on to be sure and wear it like shrink-to-fit jeans since wool is marvelously insulating and will be warm even when wet once you get over the problem of putting on a cold wet jumper.

Now, this is not a total fix - if you only a little shrunk it, it'll be good as new. If you shrunk it a lot it's probably gone down a couple of sizes even after you've stretched it back out like you're trying to tear it in half. You also need to remember to do this after every time you wash that particular garment. But hopefully some of you will save and wear some beloved items that you thought were gone forever.

Have fun!

Oh, and to clean your wool: -Pick up a wool-specific detergent (I use Woolite, there's lots) - and either

a) bung it in your machine on a delicates/wool cycle and be done with it, reshaping whilst wet and drying flat so the weight of it doesn't stretch it in funny ways over your airer (do not tumble dry, see felting above) or

b) hand-wash, which is a whole lot of swishing and squishing it about in a sink or bucket with the detergent and water at a comfortable temperature for you to stick your hands in. Avoid scrubbing on or with anything (no brushes, no stain remover balls, none of that) and if you have a stubborn spot grab two sections of the fabric and rub on each other like you're charging a defibrillator - as little as you can manage until spot is gone or you start to worry about the texture changing (felting again). A scrub with your hand from the inside can also sometimes get a stain loose by forcing the detergent up behind it and if you do felt it it's not as visible. Rinse a lot and wring out hard, then reshape and air dry it flat.

Here, a cheater course on caring for natural fibers!

1. Wool. Treat it like it has the delicate constitution of a Victorian lady and the conviction that baths are evil of a 17th century noble. (If I get in WATER my PORES will OPEN and I will CATCH ILL AND DIE.)

2. Cotton; easygoing. Will shrink a bit if washed and dried hot.

3. Silk; people think it’s like wool and has the constitution of a fashionably dying of consumption Victorian lady, but actually it’s quite tough. Can be washed in an ordinary washer, and either tumbled dry without heat or hung to dry.

4. Linen; it doesn’t give a shit. Beat the hell out of it. Historically was laundered by dousing it in lye and beating the shit out of it with wooden paddles, which only makes it look better. The masochist of the natural fiber world. Beat the fuck out of it linen doesn’t care. Considerably stronger than cotton. Linen sheet sets can last literal decades in more or less pristine shape because of that strength.The most likely natural fiber to own a ball gag.

[femboy-c-cups]

you'd think considering we've been living squarely in the hypercapitalist silicon valley technofuture for some time now, that with all the scraping and selling of your data, the "algorithm" would actually be y'know, good?

Like cmon, i know its about engagement not about making a good customer experience but you'd kinda expect that like if twitter or tumblr is feeding everything ive ever done into the machine that spits out the "for you" page then maybe it would be able to do better than just showing you every post that has the same tag as the last post you liked.

Or amazon being like "we saw you recently purchased a flat screen tv, have you considered buying more flat screen tvs?" Shouldn't you be able to predict what i need precisely when i need it by now? Instagram knows i like ttrpgs so for the past year has been continuously advertising Mothership to me, a product i have owned for many years already. How is this working out well for anyone?

[rathayibacter]

Ok so how does one MAKE a tabletop game because this is something I want to try!! Are there good references out there for non-d20 systems or how to balance mechanics yourself?

oooh, hell yeah! honestly the big thing is to just do it, unlike board and video games the gap between idea and execution in ttrpgs is incredibly narrow, so if youve got an idea just start writing stuff down and see where it starts pulling you, where it feels like something's missing, find what excites you and what you feel isn't working. but that's not very specific, so let's get into it!

first off, read games! read weird games! there's tons of free ttrpgs on itch, lots of people sharing their work here and on other social media, there's 200 word rpgs here and here, and lots of system reference documents written specifically for people looking to hack games. reading other games is a great way to enrich your work whether you're building systems from scratch or working in an existing framework, because every game you read will show you a new way of approaching design problems.

on that note, draw inspiration outside of ttrpgs too! i pull a lot from video, board, and card games in my work, as well as poetry, novels, movies, etc etc etc. im autistic, and ive spent a lot of my life thinking about and dissecting unwritten social rules, so that's another big source of material for me. take your passions, whatever they may be, and put them in your work!

next up, think about the core of your game, sometimes called the minimum viable product. this is whatever the fundamental idea at the heart of your work is, and it's important to keep in mind because it keeps you from spiraling down unnecessary tangents. the core of your game can change, don't get me wrong! in fact, it likely will. what you want to do isn't prevent your work from growing and changing, but have a point of light you can always refer back to and ask "is what im doing important to this game?" you might be surprised by what you find isn't actually as important as you thought at first, and what turns out to be vital to the experience you're going for.

next up, once you start working, don't throw things away. if youre working in a word processor or google docs, it can help to have a section at the bottom of your document that you copy anything youd otherwise delete into. i do the same with my Affinity documents, ill have a few pages i dont export to store all my scraps. i know other folks who keep a dedicated scraps document that they use across projects. whatever works for you! the reason you do this is twofold: it makes it easier to cut things if you know you can always put it back later if you change your mind, and it gives you a lot of raw material that you can pull from in the future. months or years from now, you might find yourself looking to fill a gap in a new design and realize that some cool toy you set aside is exactly what you were looking for.

lastly, i wanna strongly encourage you to practice finishing things. that's often the hardest part for people, cuz we have a lot more experience starting projects than finishing them. here id like to once again direct you to 200 word rpgs, because that strict limit means you wind up with a finished first draft really quickly, and the rest of it is polishing and editing. once you've finished some bite-sized projects, you'll have a better idea of what it entails, what parts you're good at and what parts you struggle with, when to keep working and when to cut yourself off. i find it really helpful to add arbitrary limitations and deadlines on my work because that helps me push myself to finish something when otherwise i'd just keep adding and tweaking, but you'll find what works best for you!

[ardentguilt]

On the topic of matress protectors bamboo ones are SO NICE.

I’m a guy who runs hot, especially at night and I found since I put a bamboo protector on it’s definitely cooler.

A bare home feels cold and uninviting, nobody likes that. Display your Knick knacks or whatever. It personalises your space with what you like and can even create a talking point with guests. You’re allowed to enjoy things. If you have an interest in something show it off.

Sheets can be expensive but trust me, do some research and learn some of the pros and cons of various materials and thread counts, take the time to decide what you feel you’d enjoy best and buy that. Dont just buy the cheapest bedding you find, that stuff isn’t likely to be comfortable OR last long. Buy a good set and you’ll have comfort AND longevity (which in the long run buying a good set from the start may save you $$$ because you won’t be buying cheaper sets so often the expense piles up)

Moisturise. If your skin is feeling dry or flaky moisturise it. Moisturised skin is healthier. It’s nourished and will bounce back better from damage. This is why I was told to moisturise my chest in the month leading up to chest surgery because moisturised and well hydrated skin will heal better.

For guys with facial hair, particularly beards get some beard shampoo and maybe even some beard oil. Beard shampoo is generally lighter weight than head shampoo so won’t be so harsh on your hairs.

The beard oil will nourish the hairs, roots and underlying skin so you’ll have stronger, softer hairs less likely to break and drop out and it’ll help you avoid beard itch and dandruff.

If you get acne see if you can find a product called PHisohex. It’s a face wash with Triclosan and is balanced to the skin’s natural PH. I use this and find it really helped me get my acne under control when it was bad a couple years back.

If you’re someone who has pretty oily skin I can recommend L’Oréal Men Expert Pure Carbon Anti Imperfection Daily Face Wash. this stuff cleans my face better than anything has before as in while I was it off my face is LITERALLY squeaky clean. A little goes a long way so it lasts. AND it’s got a cooling effect so it’s heaven after a hot day.

Deodorant isn’t scary. USE IT.

If you wear cologne 1-2 SPRAYS ONLY. We don’t need to be able to smell you a week before we see you.

Dudes shouldn't have to prove themselves by having spartan greyscale homes with dollar store rubber shower curtains and a mattress on the floor. Do you know what life is like with linen

[pascalispretty]

arrangement

Javi Gutierrez x F!Reader

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings/Tags: 1950s AU/Golden Age of Hollywood AU, arranged marriage, implied bisexuality, brief references to period typical homophobia

Summary: Tabloid gossip threatens to derail your promising film career. Luckily the studio has a solution; they've arranged for you to marry their Academy Award-winning screenwriter, Javi.

A/N: written for the @pedrostories Secret Santa event for @wardenparker! Arranged marriage and period drama from your prompt list really inspired me, as did rereading the Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo. Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year! (ao3)

“You’re not serious.” Your glass is raised halfway to your mouth; it’s only when the beads of condensation start to soak through your gloves that you remember it at all. You set it down on the desk and concentrate on peeling the soaked silk off your hands. It’s late and it’s New Year’s Eve – nobody is going to be looking at your hands anyway.

“I know it’s not ideal, kiddo-” Jack starts. As producers go, he’s pretty good. Or rather, he knows how to make a picture and he’s never bargained blowjobs for better parts, which makes him a damned saint by Hollywood standards.

“Not ideal?” You snap, abruptly cutting him off. “You know the rumours are horseshit. As soon as they see me as Cathy-”

“You’ll never play Cathy if you don’t wise up and listen to what I’m telling you. The studio isn’t pleased, kiddo.” Jack stubs the end of his cigarette out aggressively in the ashtray, grinding it against the glass with rather more force than is necessary.

You wait as he flicks his cigarette case open and lights another. The tension in the room is almost as thick as the smoke hanging hazy in the air. Jack sighs deeply, and pushes his hair back from his forehead.

“Look. I love you. The studio loves you. The studio spent a lot of money turning you into a bona fide movie star. And you playing Cathy, well. That’s Oscar potential right there, baby. But-”

You open your mouth to argue, and he cuts you off with a wave of his hand.

“But the studio will drop you faster than you can blink if people think you’re a lesbian.”

You’re glad you put the champagne down; you might have dropped it otherwise to hear that word fall from his mouth. The knot of anxiety in your stomach that’s been there since the photos were splashed on the cover of Hush Hush feels like it grows three sizes.

It had been innocent enough. Her hand on your back, where your dress dipped low and left your shoulderblades exposed. It’d hadn’t stopped the tabloids from running with it, running any photo of the two of you they could find and writing articles full of thinly-veiled innuendo.

“I’m not. The rumours are-”

“Not going away. I’m sorry, kiddo, really. I know you’re not so hot on getting married again after Marcus died.” It’s an understatement. You never used your married name at work, but you found yourself signing a cheque only yesterday with ‘Mrs M. Pike’. You force yourself to smile.

“So does the studio have a candidate in mind? Some prized stud?”

“Yes, actually. You know Javi? He adapted the script for Agamemnon, and he won the Oscar last year for that comedy with the Coppola kid?” You do know Javi. You’d met him when Agamemnon was in production, your first serious role. He’s handsome, you can’t deny that. You’d seen his soft brown curls and big dark eyes at the table read and wondered which part he was playing, before he’d been introduced as the writer.

And kind, too. When Marcus had died ten days into filming for Agamemnon, he’d sent flowers with everyone else. He’d also written you a letter, short but kind, offering to bog the director down with rewrites if you wanted more than a weekend off to grieve. You hadn’t taken him up on it, but the gesture had stayed with you.

“And he agreed to this? Or are you springing an arranged marriage on him tonight too?”

“He agreed. He’s ah- he’s in a similar predicament to you, kiddo. Tabloid trouble, rumour mill keeps on churning. It’s not the worst thing in the world, is it? This way, you can help each other out for a year or so, stop the rumours, and quietly split once they’ve moved onto their next target.”

You hate that Jack sounds pretty convincing right now. When he’d sat you down and told you the studio wanted you to get married again, you’d imagined some portly producer older than your father, or another actor who was only interested in women because he hadn’t figured out how to fuck his own reflection.

“I wanna talk to him about all of this. And if we’re on the same page…” you let yourself trail off as Jack’s grin gets wider.

“You’re a star, baby. A bona fide star. Just you wait, you’re gonna have your pick of projects.” He picks up the phone on the desk and waves you away. “Go, go have fun at the party. Javi’s down there somewhere if you wanna talk to him.”

You give him a wave back, and let yourself out of the office before you can change your mind. Half of Hollywood seems to be ringing in the new year at Jack’s sprawling house in the hills. You descend the stairs into the press of bodies, a fresh glass of champagne appearing in your hand as if by magic.

The party has spilled out onto the deck, guests hanging in clusters around the pool. A few brave souls have even shed their party clothes and dived in, splashing about in their underwear. You ignore their urging for more people to join them, focusing on picking Javi out of the crowd.

It takes you two laps of the party before you find him.

He’s standing over by the bar, deep in conversation with a man you recognise as one of the composers at the studio. You take a long moment just to observe him. Your future husband.

There could be worse husbands, you suppose.

He really is quite handsome. He’s wearing a dark green suit tonight that screams understated wealth, and his curls have been tamed and combed back for the night. Whatever he’s talking about, he’s passionate about it, gesturing with his hands and smiling broadly whenever he isn’t speaking.

You wish you’d thought to glance in a mirror before coming to find him. You’re wearing Dior, a dress that had made you feel like a goddess when you’d put it on earlier. Now, after hours of drinking, and your time spent fretting in Jack’s office, you’re no longer certain you look quite so regal.

Before you can dash off to find a mirror somewhere, Javi spots you.

He flashes you one of those lovely smiles, seeming entirely genuinely pleased to see you. When he waves you over, you go. The composer rolls his eyes fondly and melts back into the crowd, leaving the two of you alone.

“Hello.” It feels like an inadequate way to greet your future husband, but you can’t think of anything else. Javi’s the one who’s good with words; you’re just good at repeating them.

He beams at you, completely unbothered by your unoriginal introduction.

“Hello yourself! It’s been a hot minute.” He leans in to kiss your cheeks in greeting. Even though his skin barely brushes yours, it still makes your face feel warm as you imagine other kinds of kisses from him. He smells wonderful too, an expensive cologne that’s present without being overwhelming.

“I hear you’re up for Wuthering Heights. It’s a great part,” Javi says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “The way Jack tells it, you’ll be a shoo-in for the Oscar again.”

“Ah, well, I think you’re the expert on those now. You’re the one who actually won the damned thing.” Most men in Hollywood would take the opportunity to springboard into a monologue about their work; Javi waves you off bashfully.

“I got lucky. Nicky was a great guy to build the story around.” It seems to come from a place of real humility. You’ve seen him at table reads, filling in for uncast parts; you don’t think much of his acting ability. He might just be the genuine article. It’s impossible enough to find in this business, but you find that you want badly to believe it’s true; that he really is as humble and genuine as he seems.

“I’m glad I found you. I was looking for you,” you tell him, stepping in closer. Your heads are bowed conspiratorially together; if nothing else, it’ll give the other partygoers something to talk about, you suppose.

“Oh,” he says, his eyes softening. “Jack spoke to you?”

You dive in headfirst, not knowing how else to proceed.

“He did. I said- I told him I wanted to talk to you first.”

“Well I’d hope that the fact you haven’t thrown your drink in my face means you don’t hate the idea entirely.” There’s that smile again. It really is a shame he’s more comfortable behind the camera.

“I don’t. Jack mentioned you were in a similar…situation. And that we might come to an arrangement.” With no specifics from Jack, you don’t want to push. He could be in the closet; he could also have just been caught with a joint at the exact wrong moment by the exact wrong person.

“I’m not as flawless as the studio would like me to be, no. But it doesn’t- we don’t have to go so far as marriage, if you don’t want to. It was just an idea.”

“Come and dance with me.” When he looks at you blankly, you laugh. “Come dance. Unless you can’t. I’m not sure I wanna be talking marriage with a man who can’t dance.” You keep your tone light, teasing. With an affectionate roll of his eyes, he sets your drinks down on the side before taking your hand, guiding you towards the dancing couples.

It’s the first time you’ve held his hand, and you’re struck by just how large it is compared to your own. He’s soft and warm here too, though you can’t help but notice a nick on one of his fingers.

“That’s pretty nasty for a papercut,” you say, tapping the skin just below the cut.

“Ah, I was wrestling with my typewriter earlier. One of the keys jammed.” The two of you find yourselves on the outskirts of the dancefloor, far enough away from the press of other couples to carry on speaking. Javi brings his free hand to rest on your waist, and yours finds his shoulder as you begin to sway in time to the beat.

“I know you might not be so wild about marriage after Marcus,” he says softly. The tender look he’s giving you makes you want to weep; in a strange way, it reminds you of Marcus.

“It’s been nearly two years. I’m not…completely opposed.” After all, it’s not like Marcus would want you miserable and moping for the rest of your life, you are certain about that. And you like Javi, in spite of yourself. He’s handsome and kind and warm. Any girl would be lucky to marry him.  

“We wouldn’t be the first couple in this business to get married because the studio said so.” Javi looks around the room, glancing at the other couples moving around the dancefloor. “There’s probably more than one…arrangement just in this room.”

“It’d help to really sell it, if we got married. You can move in with me, if you like,” you say impulsively. “But I’d prefer if you were in the guest bedroom at first.”

“That’s absolutely fine.” The song changes, but the two of you keep swaying aimlessly. There’s a long pause as Javi looks searchingly at you.

“Can I be honest?” Javi says, adjusting his grip on your hand. “I was – I’m glad it was you, that Jack suggested.”

“Oh?” You can’t help leaning in. His other hand slides a little higher up your back, between your shoulder blades.

“I think you’re the cat’s pyjamas,” he says, smiling softly. “You always noticed me, on set. Asked me questions. The lead of the whole damned picture, just lost your husband, and you think to ask me how my day is going. And that’s not even getting into how talented you are, how beautiful-”

You feel lightheaded, like you’ve drunk a bottle of champagne all in one go again.

“Oh Javi, baby. Do you like me?” You tease, a smile spreading across your face. He seems flustered again, and you take your hand off his shoulder to cup his face.

“I quite like you too. You’re handsome and kind and you know how to put a sentence together. Women have married men for a lot less.”

Before you can overthink it, you kiss him.

A lot has been written about your kisses. The kiss you shared with Don Adler in Agamemnon won some sort of award, and you have an article framed on your vanity about your lipstick choice at the Oscars.

This is different though.

After the smallest moment of uncertainty, Javi kisses you back. Any hesitance you might have melts away as you lean into the embrace. You kiss him more firmly, more boldly. His hand on your back presses harder, holding you closer against his body. A feeling of warmth blooms through you, like settling into a perfectly warm bath after a long day.

More than anything, it just feels right.

You’re not sure how long you kiss before you break away. Javi cradles your jaw in his hands, the pad of his thumb resting lightly against your lower lip.

“You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.”

“You didn’t write that one,” you say with a smile. He laughs, a sound so lovely and warm that you immediately want to make him laugh again.

“Give me time. I’ll write your next leading man a hell of a monologue about the shape of your lips alone.”

“You promise?” You catch at the lapel of his blazer, running your fingertips against the fine fabric. Based on everything you know about him, Javi seems like a man who keeps his word.

“I do.”  

Taglist:

@avengersfan25 @misscharlielulu @apenny4thots

@its-nebuleuse @totallynotastanacc

[fanficsbysteve]

Passing of Presents

Note: Oh look, it’s a “sequel” to Jeremy Crow. I had this idea, and then I had a different idea. So, I mashed them together by the end. Hope everyone likes it. They are a mash of Toy Story 3, and The Velveteen Rabbit.

You should read Jeremy Crow first before this one.

***

Tommy sat on the bed, holding Jeremy Crow out in front of him. It had been 7 years since Evan had taken him into the Repair Shop he had found online. And this was worth every cent they paid to get him fixed up. He had new ‘feathers’ on the outside of his body, he had been restuffed with new soft cotton, and had his eyes repainted and then glazed in. He appeared how Tommy imagined he would look if he had gotten him brand new instead of second hand.

Jeremy Crow had a good life with Tommy. Fending off nightmares, keeping him company in his darkest times. But 5 years ago, Tommy’s life had started to turn completely around. He had gone to therapy to start handling his PTSD in a more productive way. He hadn’t been having nightmares as often and had been testing to see if they would come back by sometimes not having Jeremy with him, or Hubie for that matter. About the same time as he started therapy, Evan had moved in with him. They had settled on Tommy’s house because, well, it was a house and not a loft. As nice as the loft was, it didn’t compare. They had also started to host weekly BBQs for the 118 and the 217 at their house, Evan, however, was the clipboard tyrant when it came to getting everything organized for those events. Tommy wouldn’t admit it, but he found clipboard Evan extremely attractive.

Tommy thought back. They had been living together for 2 years by this point, and Tommy had been leaving Jeremy on a shelf above their bed. Somewhere he could watch over. He was testing the waters. Instead of holding Jeremy at night, he spent his nights holding Evan instead. And Evan really enjoyed that. Though Evan also had a habit of wiggling his butt against Tommy, attempting to get a rise out of him. It usually worked and always lead to some fun times. Tommy did feel a little guilty about making Jeremy watch that. But only a little.

Tommy chuckled to himself. He looked at Jeremy in his hands and smiled. It was time, “Well Jeremy,” Tommy said, “You’ve been one of my best friends for decades now. You were my only friend for so long.”

Tommy brought him close and into a hug, “But I think that it’s time that we parted ways with each other. You always know that I still will have a special place in my soul and heart just for you. But I think it’s time you go somewhere that you will be appreciated.”

Tommy stood up and put Jeremy next to Hubie. Hubie still looked the same as when Evan got him for Tommy. Both Jeremy and Hubie were in separate boxes. Tommy placed a lid on the boxes, each with a different name, and then placed them into a bag. He wasn’t good at wrapping gifts. It would always look like a blind T-Rex had wrapped it if he wrapped it. Better to just do a gift bag.

Tommy walked down the stairs into the living room, Evan was already in there, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I think it’s time,” Tommy replied, “I know it’s time. And they are going to a good home.”

Evan smiled and took the bag from Tommy, he attached a tag to the and held his hand out to Tommy, “Ready to go over then? The invite said 1 pm and we are going to be fashionably late already.”

“What else do they expect from the Guncles?” Tommy said.

“Guncles?” Evan said, “I know you are a Guncle. Not sure what I would be.”

“Buncle?” Tommy said, mildly panicking that he was being offensive to Evan, “I just figured having a plural word would be easier.”

Evan smiled, “I was just teasing. I know what you meant.”

Tommy playfully punched Evan, “Let’s just get going,” Tommy went towards the door, “Maddie’s going to kill us if we are later than fashionably.”

“She won’t kill me at least,” Evan joked as he followed, “Mildly maim probably.”

Tommy shook his head, and they head out to the truck. Evan, jumping into the passenger seat, asked, “Why don’t you let me drive the truck?”

“Well, we always need a passenger princess,” Tommy joked, “Someone to handle the music, and just be all around awesome.”

“Well thank you for calling me the Royalty that I am,” Evan joked back. They started driving towards Maddie and Howie’s House. The Han’s didn’t live too far from Tommy and Evan. Just far enough that they needed to drive to get there in a timely manner, but it wasn’t more than a 15 minute drive. Usually, they would walk over but with the things they needed to bring with them, all of Evan’s baking, gifts for the kids, all kinds of stuff.

“We could have just piled everything into the wagon and walked,” Tommy said, “Would have been faster,” They were currently stuck in traffic.

Evan looked offended, “Firstly, if we had walked, we would be later than we will already be. Second, with all the bumps, all the baking I’ve done over the past two days would be ruined.”

“A ‘ruined’ cookie,” Tommy attempted air quotes while driving, “Is still edible. It’s not like it was underbaked.”

“But you eat with your eyes first,” Evan defended, “A ruined cookie is not as appetizing as a perfect cookie.”

“I’ll let you have this one only because we are going to be at their place soon,” Tommy laughed, “And I’ll eat all the ruined cookies that we have just to prove my point.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Evan laughed as well, “I’ll be sorting out the cookies when we get there anyway. Have to make the platter look nice.”

Tommy pulled into the driveway of Maddie and Howie’s house, behind their minivan. Once they had gathered up everything, they walked up to the door and rang the bell. There was a flurry of jumbled footsteps running towards the door before the door swung open, “UNCLE BUCK!! UNCLE TOMMY!!”

Two children stood before them, with a teenager standing in the back, trying not to look like she was interested. One of the children, a boy, was around 7 years old, while the other, another girl, was maybe 4, “I’d pick you up and give you each a hug if I had any hands left,” Evan joked, “How about you let us in, and we can get to the hugs.”

The children moved out of the way so Tommy and Evan could get into the house, “About time,” came a yell from the kitchen. Howie was sitting at a table, attempting to put together what looked like a nuclear bomb, but it was just one of the many toys the kids would have gotten, and Maddie was in the kitchen, cooking away.

Evan put the gifts down and gave each of the kids a quick hug. Then he went directly to the kitchen, “You didn’t follow the step by step plan I sent you did you,” he said with a smile as he arrived.

Tommy placed his stack of items down as well and gave each of the kids, including the teenager, a longer hug than Evan had, “Come here Daniel” he brought the 7 year old boy into a tight hug, “and you too, Anne,” He pulled the 4 year old into a hug as well. He kept them in the hug for a while, “You have to hug someone for at least 20 seconds for it to work,” Tommy explained.

“20 seconds?” Anne asked.

“Yeah,” Tommy explained, “You need to hug someone for 20 seconds and it will have some health benefits. I don’t know what kind exactly, but your Uncle Buck read about it. I’d go and ask him for a longer hug and ask him why 20 seconds is so important.”

The two smaller kids giggled and ran away into the kitchen to find their other uncle, “And what about you Jee? A hug for your Uncle Tommy?”

Jee rolled her eyes, but she smiled as she came to give Tommy a hug, “I saw you just last week,” she said into his midriff, she wasn’t quite tall enough that her head was at his chest height, but she was taller than it being at his stomach, “You helped with my homework.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want another hug,” Tommy laughed. He let her go, “Alright let’s get to the tree so I can put some stuff under it and then I can help your Mom and Uncle with the dinner. Based on what I’m hearing in the kitchen, they will need a mediator soon and your Dad really likes to just watch the drama unfold far too much. Maybe help him out with that toy he’s currently struggling with.”

“He really does,” Jee laughed. Tommy grabbed the pile of gifts they had brought, including the bag that held Jeremy and Hubie, and put them under a beautifully decorated tree in the living room. Buck had come over to help with it, and he had developed a way to hang the baubles that made it both visually appealing, while keeping the most space for other items such as garland and lights.

After placing the gifts under the tree, Tommy went back to the entry and grabbed the containers of baked goods that Buck had made for the night. There were two containers just for cookies, one held a pumpkin pie, another held several different loaves that Howie had specifically asked for, “How are things going in here?” Tommy walked into the kitchen. Maddie was beating Buck off with a wooden spoon as he attempted to try and get the timing of everything back on track. He had his clipboard out.

“Clipboard Buck is in the house tonight,” Howie joked, “I would stay out of there if I were you.”

“Oh, I know Clipboard Evan quite well,” Tommy shuddered as he pulled a chair out at the table and sat with Howie, “The first time we held Thanksgiving at our place,” Tommy shuddered, “I put the potatoes on 10 minutes too early and I got a 30 minute lecture on following the timings on the timetable. He also comes out before all the BBQs at our place.”

“He is not to be reckoned with when he has his clipboard out,” Howie went back to building the item in front of him, “It’s like you need a doctorate in rocket science to put these things together.”

“Should have invited Karen and Hen if you needed that,” Tommy joked, “You just have me who can read instructions.”

“Well, be my guest if you can make heads or tails of it,” Howie pushed the instructions over towards Tommy.

It took them about 20 minutes of deciphering and eventually the toy was put together and Daniel was happily playing with it. Maddie and Evan had made a truce and were successfully cooking, “When can we open Uncle Buck and Uncle Tommy’s presents?” a voice cut the calm.

Anne was waiting anxiously to open them, “When we are finished dinner sweetie,” Maddie said, “Its almost done.”

Tommy looked at Evan and he just mouthed, “Not even close.”

“But I want to open them now,” Anne stomped her foot and whined.

“Maybe let her and Daniel open one to keep the peace?” Tommy suggested.

“That sounds like a great idea,” Howie said, “Uncle Tommy, would you go get something?”

Tommy left the room and went and grabbed the bag that he had placed both Hubie and Jeremy into. He brought the bag into the dining room where both Anne and Daniel were waiting, “Now we put something special and unique into this bag just for the two of you,” Tommy looked at Anne and Daniel, “We need you to take care of them ok? They are old and need a new home. You think you can give that to them?”

Anne and Daniel both nodded their heads. Tommy smiled and handed the bag over. The two boxes had been labeled already. One for Daniel, one for Anne. The two children took the boxes with their name on them and opened them. Jeremy and Hubie sat staring back at the children. Hubie at Anne, and Jeremy at Daniel, “Does he have a name?” Anne asked as she pulled Hubie out of the box. Howie and Maddie were standing together looking at their children opening gifts while Evan hovered behind. Tommy knew that Evan was hovering to make sure that he was ok with this.

“Well, I used to call this one,” Tommy pointed at the penguin, “Hubie,” He then pointed at the crow, “And that one was named Jeremy. But you can name them whatever you want. I just want you to know that they are old, so you need to be careful with them. As I said they need new homes and new kids to play with.”

Anne pulled Hubie into a big hug, “I love him,” she announced as she stood up and dragging Hubie along with here came and gave Tommy the biggest hug.

Daniel looked at Jeremy. Tommy could see something in Daniel’s eye as he looked at the stuffed crow. He recognized it as the same sense of love that Tommy had when he first got Jeremy all those many years ago, “Thank you,” Daniel whispered. He also walked over and gave Tommy a big hug. Anne had already moved on to hugging Evan at this point.

Tommy took this moment to whisper in Daniel’s ear, “Jeremy used to be mine when I was a little boy. He helped me through lots of things growing up. So, I want you to have him now. And when you have a family of your own, I want you to pass this down to your family as well. So, he can always be there to help everyone when they are growing up,” Tommy looked around conspiratorially, “And there is a story that if a stuffed animal like Jeremy is loved fully and completely by someone, they will turn real.”

“Really?” Daniel looked awed by this idea, “I’ll love him so much that he turns real one day.”

“That’s all he wants,” Tommy said to Daniel, “Now lets let Uncle Buck and your Mom get dinner ready.”

***

Tommy and Buck were sitting in their living room, both too full to move anywhere. Evan had to undo the belt and button on his pants, “So full,” He moaned stretching out, “I’m going to not have to eat for a week.”

“With all the leftovers Maddie sent home with us,” Tommy replied, “I don’t think we will need to cook for the next week.”

“Oh, I have plans for those leftovers,” Evan joked. He then looked over at Tommy, “How are you doing? I know that had to have been hard passing Jeremy along like that.”

“Honestly it really wasn’t,” Tommy said, “And I added a little extra bit of something for Daniel,” Tommy smiled to himself, “I told him that if he loved Jeremy fully, then Jeremy would turn real.”

Evan chuckled, “That’s one way to make sure that he doesn’t get destroyed.”

Tommy smiled. He looked out the window and gasped, “Look,” Tommy said as reached out for Evan’s hand and leaned forward. Sitting on the banister of their front porch was a pitch black crow, just staring in at them. Tommy looked at the crow for a minute before it flew off.

“Jeremy was just here,” Tommy breathed still staring at the spot on the porch where he saw the crow sitting. He felt Evan sit up next to him and look.

“Well, you did love him fully and completely,” Evan said, “Giving him away to someone else was the last sign of loving him fully. Now he could become a real crow for you.”

Tommy felt tears welling up in his eyes and he leaned back into the couch, Evan pulling him into a hug. That was the perfect ending for Tommy, “Maybe he did.”

The two of them curled up on the couch, too exhausted and full of food to move. They snuggled up, Tommy curling up into Evan and he fell into a peaceful sleep. His dreams were of a crow flying freely among the city’s skyscrapers, the wind lifting him up to heights that Tommy could only dream of seeing like he does. Jeremy had visited him to say Thank You, Tommy knew it was what happened. And now Tommy was at peace. Curled up with his husband on a couch that was bought specifically for snuggling on, Tommy sighed and had the most restful sleep he had ever had.

***                

Note: I wrote this on Christmas Eve (it went extremely fast) and edited it to the best of my ability on Christmas Day morning so I could post it for you all to read. Let me know what you think of it all. Happy Holidays to everyone for whatever you are celebrating today.

I haven't posted this on AO3 yet cause everyone on here seems to love Jeremy Crow and the notes I'm getting on it made me weepy so I want you all to get it first. I'll probably post it there tomorrow morning before I go Boxing Day shopping.

[gaybananabread]

Squealing Santa 2024 - Gift for @vampiretickles

~Happy Holidays @vampiretickles! I hope this fic finds you well, and that you have a lovely New Year’s. I’ve been seeing this ship everywhere; it’s about time I tried my hand at it. This is loaded with sweet, loving, absolutely disgusting fluff. I had fun with it! Could possibly be ooc, but I think it’s alright. If you celebrate, Happy Holidays! I hope you Enjoy!~

Lee: Stanford Pines

Ler: Fiddleford McGucket

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Summary: As per usual, Ford is refusing to step away from his work and rest. Fiddleford, sick of his partner running himself haggard, decides to take matters into his own hands. Literally.

Word Count: 1,679

Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don’t like that, scroll away!!

“Dag blast it- UGH!” Ford tossed his flaming trench coat to the ground, spewing colorful obscenities as he tried to put out the bright green fire. By the time he managed to stomp it out, his poor coat was in charred tatters.

“There goes another one…” He swore, tossing the ruined garment into his disposal bin. The smoking experiment on his table was an even greater let-down. Rubbing his temples, the scientist grabbed his ancient tape recorder and sighed into the device. “Attempt number 57 ends in…failure.”

Ford had been at it for nearly a week, trying test after test in an attempt to get the right combination. It was an experimental weirdness blocker that could—in theory—negate any powers or effects being in their odd town could bring.

The man’s reaction had been less than quiet. Fiddleford, who had come to visit his it’s-complicated-but-we’re-getting-there partner, was drawn to the room by all the noise. “Everythin’ alright in here, Stanford?”

Ford whipped around, eyes narrowed dangerously before he realized who had entered. “Oh…yes. Everything’s fine.”

“Sure doesn’t seem like it.” The old man stepped farther into the room, furrowing his brows. He’d been doing a lot better since Weirdmageddon; his beard was clean (though he preferred long, so it wasn’t cut), his clothes were clean and whole, and he was spewing less nonsense by the day. With his improved mental state, he was able to care for those around him. “You should take a break, Ford. It’d do ya some good.”

“I’m fine, Fiddleford,” Ford huffed, brushing off the advice. He knew the hillbilly was right, but that didn’t mean he had to listen.

“Uh-huh, sure. Gotta be true, what with the fire and screamin’.” Fidds looked over at the remnants of Ford’s trench coat knowingly. That quirked brow made Ford more defensive than it probably should have.

“I just need more time. A few hours, tops.” Ford poked the smoldering remains of his experiment, trying to figure out what went wrong.

The man needed a break, but he wasn’t going to take one willingly. It was up to McGucket to fix that.

“What ya need is to relax.” Closing the distance between them, Fiddleford wrapped his arms around his partner. He squeezed just tight enough so the weary man couldn’t escape.

“Fidds, come on. I’ll be done soon en- mmph!” Ford flinched, jolting in his partner’s grip. The hillbilly’s hands were resting on Ford’s hips. While that would usually be an appreciated gesture, his fingers were wiggling into the divots of the joint; it tickled, and they both knew it.

“What’sa matter, Stanford? Got a tickle in yer throat?” Fiddleford teased, knowing the silliness of it would get to Ford. The man never could handle childish teases. The effects were instantaneous.

“F-Fihidds, no! I dohon’t have time f-for nonsense!” Ford did his best to hold in his reactions, refusing to give up so easily. He didn’t necessarily need to finish his work that day, but it felt wrong to leave anything unfinished.

“Yet you’ve got time fer workin’ yerself to exhaustion, knowin’ ya ain’t got enough energy to do anythin’ actually productive.”

Ford scoffed at the direct call-out, his ears turning pink. Well…shit. Fiddleford had him pegged, and he really didn’t have a comeback for that. After a few seconds of watching the Pines gape like a fish, Fidds chuckled.

“That’s what I thought. Now, hush up ‘n lemme help ya.” Pressing a gentle kiss to one of the man’s pinkened ears, Fidds got back to work. His thin, bony fingers worked their way up Ford’s sides, digging in just enough to make him giggle.

“Fihiddlefohohord!” Rumbling, slightly raspy giggles shook the man’s shoulders as he tried not to squirm. While the tickling wasn’t exactly what he had planned for the afternoon, he couldn’t deny how nice it was to have McGucket pressed against him after feeling so stressed.

“That’s my name, yeah. You sure that experiment didn’ scramble yer brain pan?” Fidds teased him, resting his chin on his partner’s shaky shoulder.

“Behe quihihiet!” Ford couldn’t help but gasp when one of Fidds’s hands went back down to his hips, his fingers wiggling into the ticklish little divot once again.

“You should be a little nicer, darlin’. I got all ‘a my favorite spots right here, just waitin’ for some attention.” His words carried a playful threat, his other hand moving to tease near Ford’s pits. He felt the man shudder against him at the thought.

“No! Nohohoho, cohome on! Thihis is rihidiculous!” Stanford tried using his grumpy old man tone, but the constant giggling ruined the attempt at seriousness. He was forced to just sit there and squirm against his partner.

“That’s the whole point, ya old goof. Yer s’posed to be takin’ it easy; ridiculous fits the bill.” Fidds accentuated his point with a few kisses to Ford’s neck, though he was surprised by the adorably shrill noise the action received.

“KHHHHehehe! Fihidds!” Ford whined—actually whined—at the feeling, scrunching up his shoulders as much as the hold would allow. His neck was ticklish? How had the hillbilly never noticed before?

“I reckon someone’s been hidin’ somethin’ from me, hasn’t he?” With a giddy smirk, Fiddleford began kissing the back of Ford’s neck, purposefully nuzzling his scraggly beard against the flushed skin as well.

Ford gasped at the barrage of tickly kisses and nuzzles, strangled little giggles and incredibly silly noises getting caught in his throat as he scrunched up. It was an utterly adorable sight—one that his partner made sure to enjoy.

“Yer so cute when yer laughin’, Stanford,” McGucket cooed between kisses, putting a bit more of his weight on his partner to keep him still. “Daw, who am I kiddin’? Yer cute in general.”

The silver-haired man could feel his face burning from all the affectionate teasing. He could usually keep his emotions in check; the decades he spent in chaotic and dangerous dimensions taught him to be stoic on command.

When it came to Fiddleford, however, all of that conditioning seemed to disappear. He felt like a flustered teen playing wingman for Stanley again, though the feeling was a lot more intense and a helluva lot more enjoyable.

“Lohohohove, p-plehehehease! Ihi- GYEhehehe! Ihihi cahahan’t!” Ford blushed even harder just from the ludicrous nature of his own words. Gracious, he was pathetic…and he didn’t really mind it. His sides were growing quite sore, however, and he couldn’t take much more of the heavy giggling. “Fihihidds, plehease!”

The bearded man heard the difference in Ford’s tone, easing off to kiss his rosy cheeks instead. “Alright, alright, settle down. I’m done bein’ mean.” Gently, he guided the giggly man over to the small room he’d forced Ford to furnish, getting him settled on the nearly untouched mattress. “Told ya you’d need a nappin’ room down here.”

“Nohot the time toho glohohoat…” Ford huffed, snuggling up against his lanky partner. Fuck, he couldn’t work any more if he wanted to, which…he kind of didn’t. He was exhausted, his thoughts were sluggish, and he was really in the mood for cuddles. “Sneaky bastard.”

“Only fer you, darlin’.” Fidds peppered his face with kisses, running a hand through his fluffy silver hair.

Ford mumbled grievances, but it was obvious the touch was melting him. He was so tired…but he didn’t want the attention to end. “Could you…mmphf.”

“What’s that now? Gotta speak up.” Fiddleford had an idea of what the cuddly man wanted to say, but he was gonna make him ask for it. His flustered voice was just too adorable to resist.

It was absolutely evil, in Ford’s eyes.

“Just…don’t stop? I don’t want you to…you know. Lightly.”

Fidds bit his lip, chuckling softly at the embarrassed, broken request. Ford really was terrible at asking for what he wanted… Still, the attempt was the best he’d gotten yet.

“M’kay, I won’t make ya beg. C’mere.” Snaking a hand up Ford’s shirt, the bearded man began ever so gently tickling his partner’s sides, back, and neck. His hand drifted, the touch just present enough to tickle.

“Mmhmhmhm…” A wobbly smile tugged at Ford’s lips as he pressed his face into Fiddleford’s chest, giggling softly. Each small noise was little more than an exhale, gentle enough for his aching sides to rest while keeping him giddy. Fidds always knew exactly what he needed, and—better yet—exactly how to give it to him.

“Maybe I should start doin’ this every time ya refuse to rest. It’s workin’ pretty well, I reckon.” Fidds felt his heart swell at the sight of him, loving how he just gave in to the giggly affection.

“Shuhush,” Ford huffed lovingly, moving in to kiss him. His stubbly upper lip scratched Fidds’s as he blindly leaned in. Their lips met, each smiling against the other’s as they drifted off wholly into their own little world.

While he would’ve loved to keep kissing Ford for the rest of the night, he could feel how sluggish the man was getting. It was time to rest. He pulled away from the kiss, lovingly stroking Ford’s sides.

“Alright, darlin’. Time to turn in.” Wrapping his thin legs around the man’s waist, Fiddleford gently scratched Ford’s scalp to wind down. As expected, the scientist let out a sleepy sigh, leaning right into the touch. Fidds’s other hand was still stroking his sides, barely tickling. It was sweet, domestic, and made both men feel oh so loved and whole.

“Mhmmm…goodnihight, love.” Ford muttered one last endearment before dozing off, finally giving in to the drowsiness that washed over him. He felt a few light kisses on the crown of his head, reassuring him all the way to unconsciousness.

“G’night, Stanford. I love ya, darlin’.” Fiddleford held Ford close, sighing contentedly as he heard the man’s breathing even out. Finally, he’d gotten his stubborn partner to pass out and rest. The next day would bring the same challenge, but he’d be more than ready to face and overcome it.

He had love on his side, after all. And tickles. With those, he couldn’t possibly lose.

[enbyfvcker]

[Through the phone]

Wade Wilson x Logan (worst!wolverine)

Word count: 1,4k

Summary/prompt: Logan isn't used to this technology thing, but he lets Wade gift him a phone to make him happy. Turns out he finds rather... enticing ways to use his new phone when Wade's away on a job and he's feeling extra needy.

Tags: Smut, established relationship, sub/dom undertones, soft!dom Wade, masturbation, praise kink, phone sex, Logan likes being talked through it.

Wade liked to drag Logan along with him for shopping like he usually does after receiving from his mercenary jobs. He liked spoiling his little kitty cat and buying him stuff.

Logan would say 'no' at first, but then Wade would insist and insist, and well, he was mostly bored anyway, so he eventually gives in. When it comes to Wade, Logan usually gives in.

They were both in their civvies: Logan wearing denim pants, a wife pleaser, and a flannel. All his clothes were bought by Wade after he moved in. He apparently seemed to know what Logan likes or not.

Wade was wearing a hoodie and with the hood over his head. Logan noticed that the merc still wasn't fully in his comfort zone when he went out in public without his suit because of his appearance. But he seemed to deal better with it - with all the stares - when Logan was there by his side.

Wade was strolling around with the cart filled with things (variating from cleaning products, towels, food, unicorm plushies...) while Logan follows behind him, his hands in his pockets.

Wade comes to a stop when they pass over the eletronics session, looking at all the mobiles on display.

"Hey, peanut?"

"Hm."

"You don't really have a phone, do you? Wanna pick one?" Wade asks with a grin.

"Why?"

"Well, isn't it inconvenient?"

"Not really... I can't think of a situation where I would need one. And I'm also not really good with... Technology and stuff."

"Oh, okay..." Wade pouts like a hurt child, and Logan rolls his eyes.

"What?"

"Well, what if you miss me one day when I'm out for a job and wanna talk to me? You could also always text Laura to check up on her sometimes." Wade suggests and gives a dramatic sigh. "But well, if you don't want it..."

Logan considers for a moment and grunts lowly as he walks to the phones on display and tries to pick one. Wade watches with sparkling eyes and a grin.

He didn't really know the difference between the damn things. There were so many models, so he just chose a random one and placed it in the cart.

"There."

"Yay! Can't wait to introduce you to the technology world. You might wanna stay away from Ao3, though... there's some pretty nasty stuff in there. I mean, I love 'em, don't get me wrong. But I don't think you'd be pleased with what our fans fantasize about us."

"The fuck are you talking about?" Logan asks with an raised eyebrow. He was used to Wade saying weird shit like that. Honestly, he should just stop trying to understand the guy.

"Nothing, princess! Let's check out, shall we?"

...

It took some teaching from Wade for Logan to understand how to use his new phone. He didn't really use it much, though. But Wade was right. It was nice being able to talk to Laura and hear about how she's doing more often. They would meet and hang out every couple week, but her life seemed pretty busy after she started college. So now they could always call each other to catch up.

Wade was also right about... Well, the other part.

Usually, Logan would come along with Wade to help with any missions, but sometimes Wade would just go alone.

It was dark outside already, and it has been some hours since Wade wasn't home. Times like that, when he’s bored and lonely, he craves a drink more than anything. It was really damn hard trying to stay sober.

He walks to Wade's room and lies on his stomach on the bed, grunting with a soft rumble on his chest.

He missed Wade.

God, he can't believe it.

The apartment was finally silent for once, and he missed Wade's stupid voice.

He feels ridiculous.

Logan sniffs on the pillows, smelling Wade's scent. He smelled like gun powder and strawberry lotion. He feels his cock harden at the scent and he groans with frustration, his cheeks a soft blush and his eyebrows furrowed. His fists clenches as he starts to rut slowly against he matress, feeling completely pathetic.

It wasn't enough.

He takes his phone from his pocket and turns on his back, dialing the third contact from alphabetic order from his list.

He only has 3:

Althea

Laura

Wade

It rings and rings, and Logan almost just cancels the call, but then he hears Wade's voice.

"Hi, peanut. Missing me already? I do, too, honey- Motherfucker! Have some manners, can't you see I'm on the phone!" Wade grunts in pain over the line after apparently taking a couple shots.

"Is this not a good time?" Logan asks with a low voice, his hand moving down his own abdomen.

"No, no, baby girl. I always have time for you." Logan feels his cock twitching at Wade's words, his breathing getting more elaborated. He could hear Wade grunting, probably in the middle of a fight. "Don't worry, as I soon as I wrap this up, I'm coming home to you, kitten."

Logan usually scowl and reprimanded Wade at the pet names he usually uses, but Wade could hear softs gasps over the line so quietly he almost misses it, and if he had any eyebrows, they'd be raised.

"Don't take long." Logan whispers, his voice hoarse as he palms himself over his boxers.

"What are you doing?" Wade asks with a clear grin on his voice, and Logan hears a few shotguns and screams.

"Talking to you." Logan replies bluntly. He couldn't help but let out a soft moan when he slipped his hand under his underwear to touch himself properly. He gives a couple slow strokes, biting his lip strongly enough to draw blood.

"Nothing more?"

"No..."

"Oh, my little honey badger, you're a terrible liar." Wade accuses, making Logan's cheeks flush harder. "Are you that needy, hm? Kitty can't wait for me to get home?"

Wade doesn't receive a response, only desperate whimpers that were clearly escaping through bitten lips. He runs his katana through a couple of criminals and chuckles to himself.

"So cute, princess. You just needed to hear my voice, didn't you? I bet you must be dripping all over my bed right now. Bad boy... Gotta train you to learn and wait for me."

"Wade..." Logan grunts, his hand moving faster at a steady rhythm, his eyed shut tightly as he imagines it is Wade's scarred hands on him. He rubs his thumb over his tip and whines.

"It's okay, baby. I'll let it slide this time. Be a good kitty and make yourself feel good, yes? You sound so pretty."

Logan moans louder at the praise, his cock twitching and leaking pre cum into his fingers. He starts rutting his hips up, fucking his fist at a desperate pace.

"Keep talking..." Logan half begs half commands, making Wade smirk under his mask as he dodges from a chair that hit the wall behind him.

"You know, for someone who's always telling me to shut up, you sure sound quite desperate for it right now. I know you love it, kitten, even if you won't admit it. I know you love hearing me say how good you are for me, how pretty you look when you're all messy and pliant under me, how much of a good fucking boy you are..."

Logan straight up whimpers.

"Are you gonna be a good boy for me and make a mess all over yourself, baby?"

"Wannabegood, wannabegood, wannabegood..." Logan babbles between needy moans, and Wade knew he was close.

"I know you do, princess." Wade shots the last one of the criminals and they drop dead to the floor along with the others. "Cum for me."

"Wade, fuck-!" He whines as he spills all over his fist and stomach, his back arching off the bed. He strokes himself through the aftershocks, his moans turning into heavy pants as he catches his breath. He feels a rush of embarrassment as his mind clears off, but then he hears Wade praising him.

"Good kitty. Alright, I'm done here." Wade says as he looks to all the bodies around him. "I'm coming home, darling! I have a boner the size of a lighthouse right now. It's really hard focusing on fighting like this."

Logan chuckles, his breathing still heavy. "Just come home already."

[tiramisumin]

a nonsense christmas

⋆⁺₊❅. pairing: kim minjae x f!reader

⋆⁺₊❅. word count: 4.25k

⋆⁺₊❅. content: MATURE CONTENT AHEAD!!!, fluff, some humor, swearing, strangers to classmates/friends to lovers, more mutual pining, mentions of alcohol, junmin cameo, if u squint this fic and the sumin one are connected lolz, if u couldn’t tell i like writing about kissing, vaginal fingering, face riding haha, minjae has an oral fixation, protected sex (cowgirl position yeehaw), she fell first he fell harder type beat

synopsis: you could see yourself falling for kim minjae and sharing a future with him. and maybe this time next year, you’ll be standing right beside him at this same party.

୨ৎ she’s a little late.. but better late than never amirite!!! thank u @tmrwsuns for being my personal cheerleader the entire writing process i think i might’ve kms’d without u bff 🤍 pls reblog if u liked this!

The annual Kim Minjae Christmas Eve party is something you dread every year. 

Since your first attendance your freshman year of college, something eventful has always happened at that damn party. There was the time your best friend had to go to the ER because she drunkenly tripped, fell, and broke her nose. There was also the time they left, without you, and you had to Uber back to your apartment all alone at one in the morning. Your friends always dragged you to it, though, for tradition’s sake. Unlike the other parties they tried to force you to go to throughout the semester, you didn’t have the excuse of studying for this one. 

Besides, you think Kim Minjae himself might tear the world apart looking for you. 

You knew of him vaguely every year before this one, obviously. But you’d never actually met him at one of his infamous parties, or in person at all for that matter. However, this semester you wound up in the same production course. And, well, let’s just say you started to understand the hype…

Like when you sat next to each other during lecture a couple weeks into the semester, Minjae peeking over at the doodles you were doing over your notes. 

“Those are cute. Are they supposed to be butterflies?” 

You jumped in your seat, caught off guard by the low voice so close to your ear. Minjae grinned at you, sitting back upright. You nodded in response as to not disrupt your classmates who were actually paying attention to the professor. 

“I’m Minjae, by the way.”

Or when he remembered a comment you made in passing about missing a lecture for a concert you were going to with your friends. 

“Wait, why was my absence last week excused?” You muttered to yourself in confusion, eyes scanning the class roster to see the words ‘Excused Absence’ beside your name under last week’s attendance slot.

“I didn’t want you getting points taken off your grade just ‘cause you wanted to have fun,” Minjae answered with a smile that rivaled the stars. “I asked my mom if she could email a doctor’s note to the professor to get it excused for you.”

There were a lot of things that needed to be unpacked. One; he did all that for you? Two; his mom was a doctor? Three; were you dreaming right now??

“You didn’t have to do that…” You said bashfully, initialing under today’s slot. Minjae took the sheet from you when you were done so he could do the same.

“I wanted to.” He shrugged nonchalantly. 

The rest is kind of history. All it took was a couple smiles and you were cooked. In fact, cooked was an understatement. You would be competing against more than half of the girls at your school for his attention. While you had the advantage of being somewhat friends with him, that didn’t exactly mean he felt the same as you did.

“You worry too much.” 

Your best friend comes up behind you at your mirror, shaking your shoulders. You were currently getting ready for the party, pulling out all the stops. Every year, there’s been a different dress up theme. This year it’s famous holiday characters. Sexy Mrs. Claus anyone?

”There’s just a lot at stake here. My ego, my dignity, everything I’ve ever stood for.” You don’t pause as you say this, ensuring your makeup was absolutely perfect. All of which were true. Your pride would be smothered to bits if he rejects you. Any sense of self respect would fly straight out of the window. And you’d be a failure of a person for ignoring your own morals for him. 

“I know, but you’re stressing yourself out for no reason. I think it’s very obvious that he likes you, too, Y/N.” She tries to rationalize with you. You block her out, because no it is not. You can’t read him or what he’s feeling.

And maybe she was kind of right…

When you spot him, he’s dressed as a sexy Santa Claus. The rest of his friends are dressed as his reindeer, one of them even donning a bright red nose. The concept is actually really cute. Yourself as Mrs. Claus and your friend as Cindy Lou Who does not match at all. Not even just in terms of cohesivity. Usually the roles would be switched. You didn’t like to stand out much. 

“You look hot, go talk to him!” She whisper-yells in your ear, nudging you forward. 

Your bottom lip catches between your teeth, fingers laced together behind your back as you nervously make your way across the room. He had just finished taking a shot with his friends when you approached, that sparkle in his pretty boba eyes twinkling even brighter upon seeing you. You have to admit he looks even better up close, the unbuttoned top of the Santa suit revealing a white cutoff t-shirt, doing very little to conceal his lean torso. 

You don’t miss the way he checks you out, dragging his gaze up and down your body. It has the room feeling a little warmer than it was a couple minutes ago. Your fingers stay behind your back, nerves evident by the time you reach him. “Hi.”

Minjae smiles cutely at your shyness, almost cooing at how adorable you are in spite of being dressed so scantily. “Hello, Mrs. Claus.”

“I should’ve known you’d pick the main character for your own party,” you say in reference to his outfit. “I didn’t really think about that when I was picking what I wanted to dress as.”

“Some might call that fate,” he grins something cheeky as he tucks some hair behind your ear. “Honestly, I think I’d be a little bummed out if you hadn’t unintentionally matched with me.”

You’re sure you look like a mess, every flirting comment driving you insane. Maybe he talks like this with all the girls he comes across. You wouldn’t be surprised, given the fact that everyone and their mom wants him. You’re not sure if he does it just to entertain people (or himself) and if he does, well, then you’re stupid. That’s why whatever happens tonight between you is such a big deal. Getting heartbroken by someone known for breaking hearts is more embarrassing than anything else.

You open your mouth to say something, but someone beats you to it, a pretty girl dressed like a sexy elf. “Minjae! There you are! I was beginning to think you stood me up at your own party.”

Minjae looks between her and you, giving you a small frown that you might not have noticed if you weren’t so perceptive. The girl latches onto his arm like a leech, eyeing you with something thick and full of disgust. (Or jealousy, you aren’t too sure, actually.)

“I know what this looks like, Y/N, but I—”

“Have fun at your party, Jae. I’ll see you later.” You interrupt him with a tight-lipped smile, bowing before heading back over to your friend. You feel so dumb. This is what you’d been trying to avoid this entire time. Now you have to do the walk of shame back to your friends.

Not only do you feel like one, but you probably look like a loser, too. Your best friend shakes her head at you when you come into view. You’re confused by her actions, because wouldn’t you think she would feel awful for you? As your personal confidant, she should be hugging you and supplying you with endless alcohol so you could get over this.

She grabs you by the shoulders the second you’re within arms’ reach, staring directly into your eyes. “We are not doing this right now.” 

“Doing what?”

“You’re not gonna stand around here at this party and act all mopey just because some random girl who thinks she has a shot with Minjae wedges her way in. You look too good for that. And besides, if you look over there, you’ll see that he doesn’t even care for her. He was excited to see you. Not her. Now, what you are gonna do is pick one of his friends to make him jealous and finally get him away from her.” She says, holding you firmly. 

“I don’t even know any of his friends like that, though.” You glance back to where they’re all gathered around the beer pong table. 

“I wouldn’t recommend Sumin, ‘cause he and his best friend are so in love with each other it’s kinda sickening. I don’t think they realize it though, so I don’t wanna mess with that. I know the rest of them are single,” she squints her eyes as she observes the nine boys. “Maybe Junmin. He’s really nice and he’s super close with Minjae, so he’s perfect for the job.”

“Why do you know so much about their friend group?” You ask curiously. She sounded so well-versed in the lore behind Kim Minjae and his friends. It was a little concerning, honestly. How much free time did she have to learn all of this information?

“Instagram and I are like this,” she crosses her index and middle fingers. “But enough about that. Are you down with the plan?”

You sigh. Were you really about to go through all this trouble for a guy? You guess so, since you nod before you even register that you’re doing it.

She manages to flag down Junmin just as he passes by. His antlers are slightly lopsided, telling you that he’s probably already tipsy. His cheeks are flushed, another indication of his intoxication. This guy had to be a lightweight or something. He smiles warmly at you both.

“What’s up, guys?” He asks, energy equivalent to that of a puppy being offered a treat.

“We have a proposition for you, Mr. Park.” Your best friend answers, to which Junmin just smiles and nods. 

“How can I be of service?”

“Okay, first things first; how does Minjae feel about Y/N?” She pats your shoulder, gesturing to you as if you weren’t an active member in the conversation. He looks at the two of you as if you’d both grown a second head.

“Do you really have to ask that? It’s kinda obvious that he’s obsessed with her.” Junmin snorts. “I’ve never seen him actually interested in someone the way he is with you. He talks about you every opportunity that he gets. You know that meme that’s like, ‘how can I make this about ‘blank’’? That’s Minjae with you.”

You can’t help the way the corners of your lips curl up. Okay, so maybe you did overreact when that girl came between you earlier. You didn’t let Minjae say anything and explain the situation either. She quickly fills him in on the plan she curated. Junmin is a little apprehensive at first, afraid of making his friend mad when he knows how he feels about you. But after some convincing, he agrees.

“What am I even supposed to do?” His hands stay inside of the pockets of the reindeer onesie he was wearing, scared of touching you, too.

”You don’t have to do much. Just stand by her and laugh at the things she says. If he sees you getting cozy, he’ll have no choice but to drop everything he’s doing and put a stop to it. At least, if he likes her as much as you say he does, that’ll be the case.” She shrugs, turning around to join in on the dance circle your other friends had started without another word.

Junmin sighs, and it’s clear that any and all signs of his inebriation have disappeared. This entire ordeal sobered him up pretty fast. You make the mistake of looking over at Minjae again, accidentally making eye contact. He narrows his eyes at you and Junmin, though nothing has happened yet and he’s merely standing beside you. You instinctively nudge his arm subtly.

The boy shakes his head and rolls his eyes playfully. “Of course he’s already jealous. That’s just like him.”

“You seem really close. How long have you been friends?” You ask to continue the small talk. This way, it won’t be completely awkward. He’s doing you a favor by playing along with your charade, you didn’t have to make it worse by being weird about it.

“I’ve known him since we were freshmen in high school,” he shifts his weight onto one foot. “Which is a little bit longer than everyone else, but not too long either.”

“Junmin, that’s eight years. That is a long time.” You laugh at him, pointing out the fact that his attempt at being nonchalant slightly failed. He scratches the back of his neck with a chuckle. 

“I mean, yeah, I guess you’re right.”

You reach out and hold onto his arm carefully. “Thank you, by the way, for doing this for me. You didn’t have to. I appreciate it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he waves his hand in front of his face. “It was no problem. In a way I’m doing this for Minjae, too. He has the tendency to put his own happiness aside if he doesn’t think he deserves it.”

Your mouth resembles an upside down crescent moon as he tells you this. “What do you mean?”

“He thinks that you’re too good for him. You know how everyone calls him a heartbreaker and how everyone says he can’t commit. That’s why he hasn’t made a move. He doesn’t want to disappoint you and he thinks you deserve better than someone with that kind of reputation.” Junmin mirrors your expression for a moment, and you can see how much he cares for his friend. It’s heartwarming actually.

Before you can respond, he’s covering the back of your hand with his own and glancing behind you to indicate that Minjae was coming. The raven haired male stands between you, scanning the scene for anything that would stand out to him. You’re sure there’s hearts in your eyes as you stare at him, even with the fake beard on his face. 

“I didn’t know you knew each other,” Minjae comments after a bit of silence, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“We don’t,” your hand falls to your side. “Not well, at least. But we’re friends now, right Junmin?” 

“Yeah, we are,” he turns to his friend with a smile. “I’ll catch you later, Y/N, it was nice meeting you.”

As soon as Junmin is out of ear shot, Minjae is turning back to you with a raised eyebrow. You peer at him innocently, but you know he’s caught you red handed. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Did what?” You act coy, messing with the fluffy hem of your skirt. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek and he glances away from you with a small laugh. 

“You’re really something special, you know that, Y/N?” His voice is only loud enough that the two of you can hear what he says, but nobody else. 

“You think so?” 

“I know so.”

Minjae doesn’t hesitate to lean into you, pressing his lips to yours softly. It’s perfect, the most perfect kiss in the whole world despite the fact that he’s wearing a fake beard. It tickles your face as he tilts his head. Your lips tingle everywhere that comes into contact with his, sparks running through your veins like electrical currents. Now that you’re certain that you’re on the same page, you want so much more than just this. You need him, all of him. 

But then you realize where you are. Your cheeks warm up impossibly hot, your nose cowering into the space where his shoulder meets his collarbone. Minjae can’t help but laugh at how cute you are. Truly, he hit the jackpot with you. You checked just about every box on his list, the missing puzzle piece he had been looking for all along. 

Had he written a Christmas list this year, like he’d done so many times as a kid, you’d be right at the top. 

“Should we go upstairs?” He whispers into your ear. You nod frantically, desperate to be alone with him for the first time, well, ever. He takes your hand into his and guides you through the house and up the stairs. The hallway is long and it feels like forever has passed by the time you make it into his room. 

There’s posters of different bands on the walls, a keyboard and a guitar in one corner, and a desk with a laptop and a smaller mixing board in the other. The room is neat, but not too neat, and somehow exactly what you’d imagine Kim Minjae’s room to look like. You take it in all at once, allowing him to pull you onto his lap on his bed, a knee on either side of his thighs. He’s since ditched the beard. 

“I didn’t think you’d ever go for a guy like me.” He confesses, hands on your hips. His thumbs rub circles into your exposed midriff. You cup his face with a pout on your lips. 

“Why do you say that?”

“I was told I’m not really your type,” he frowns, but then his mouth is attaching to your lower stomach. “That you usually don’t go for guys who break girls’ hearts.”

Your eyes flutter shut as his fingers creep beneath your skirt, tugging at the thin material of your lacy panties. “S-Sometimes, I make e-exceptions.”

You feel rather than see the curve of his smile, gasping when he drags your underwear down your legs. Your head is spinning and you’re overwhelmed by everything going on in the best way possible. Minjae’s hand disappears under your skirt again, his fingers teasing where you need him most. A whine escapes you when his thumb massages your clit, slowly and agonizingly. Your grip moves from his face to his shoulders, nails digging into the material of his Santa suit. 

His index and middle fingers don’t waste time slipping inside of you, forcing a louder moan out of you. The position the two of you are in makes it easier for him to curl them, brushing along that sensitive spot deep in your pussy. He keeps at it, alternating between calculated pumps into your cunt and showing attention to your already sensitive clit. 

“You’re so warm around my fingers, angel,” he mumbles into your skin, mouth still connected to your abdomen. “I bet you taste so sweet, too.”

You whine once more, riding his fingers like your life depended on it. It’s not enough, however. It’s not enough to satiate the hunger and the desire burning behind your chest. You needed to become one being with him. He pauses, looking up at you with eyes resembling pools of tar, unbridled affection swimming in them. 

“What is it?” You ask breathlessly, lips subconsciously pouting at him. 

“Can you…” He trails off, looking for the words. “Can you ride my face?”

You gawk at him, not at all expecting that to come out of his mouth. It’s not that you were this pure virgin who’s never done anything before, but Minjae was more experienced than you in multiple departments. And that happened to be one of them. You’ve never sat on anyone’s face before, and you’re sure it shows because he coos at you. 

“I’ve never… You know…” Your bashfulness has him growing harder beneath you and he can’t stop the groan he lets out after. 

“That’s okay, I’ll be your first,” he reassures you, rubbing up and down your sides comfortingly. “And hopefully your last.”

You smile widely, leaning down to kiss him. There’s more than lust translated into the way you slot your lips with his. You could see yourself falling in love with Kim Minjae and sharing a future with him. A future where you go out on dinner dates and he picks you up at your apartment, staring at you in awe when you get all dolled up for him. One where you take late night drives just because you want to, his arm outstretched across the center console to hold your hand. And maybe this time next year, you’ll be standing right beside him at this same party. Maybe you’ll wake up on Christmas morning to a kiss on the forehead and a tree filled with gifts for each other. 

Minjae lays with his head on the pillows after he shrugs off the jacket of his Santa suit while you shimmy out of your skirt, pulling you up so you’re straddling his face. His arms hook around your thighs just as you unzip your top and discard it somewhere behind you. 

“Just relax, angel,” he leaves a kiss on your inner thigh. “Hold onto the headboard if you need to.”

You do as he says, shutting your eyes when you feel his breath on your pussy. First, he kisses your clit experimentally. The moan that comes out of you encourages him to continue, his tongue kitten licking the expanse of it. It doesn’t take long for him to find a rhythm, the blunt edges of his nails pressing into your thighs. 

Your forehead falls to the headboard, sounds you’ve never made before bursting from your chest. You try to watch him between your legs, but the pleasure is so overwhelming you can’t keep your eyes open. His nose bumps your clit repeatedly, and somehow that’s what has you nearing your end. 

Minjae releases one of your thighs, his thumb applying pressure to the sensitive bundle of nerves as he fucks you open on his tongue. Loud is an understatement to describe your volume. You’re thankful that there’s an entire party going on downstairs, because despite being so shy earlier, there’s nothing shy about you right now. And he’s eating it up. 

“I’m gonna—!”

“Wait,” he stops, pushing down his pants and his underwear. “I want you to cum on my cock.”

“Minjae… I don’t think I can last any longer.” You whine, your cunt contracting around nothing. He kisses it one more time before sitting up and helping you back into his lap. He reaches into the drawer of his bedside table, grabbing a condom and quickly unwrapping it so he could slip it on. The time between riding his face and hovering over his dick is a blur, your whole self delirious from how good everything feels. 

“There, there, angel,” he murmurs into your collarbone as you sink onto his cock, both of you moaning at the contact. “Fuck, you feel like heaven.”

He knows you’re tired, so he does all the work for you. His grip stays on your hips, fucking up into you with desperation. He was already stiff and throbbing with need just from eating you out. You’re both searching for sweet release, your hands grabbing onto his shoulders, then his arms, then tangling in his hair. 

His mouth latches onto one of your breasts, and you’re starting to think he has an oral fixation, the orifice always connected to some part of your body or another. Your fingers stay in his hair, attempting to bounce on his dick and meet him halfway. You’re exhausted, though, and it barely does anything to help Minjae, who’s doing everything. 

You were so close when he decided to change positions, so it didn’t take a lot to get you back to that point. Your pussy tightens around him, and he knows that your orgasm is near. He swipes his ring and middle fingers on your clit, the added stimulation finally bringing you to the edge of bliss. It feels like you’re on cloud nine, the fatigue evaporating from your bones. 

Minjae is right there with you, gritting his teeth so he can take care of you first. “Where— shit— where do you want me, angel?”

“Inside,” your voice is hoarse and seeping with sleepiness. “Cum inside me, Jae.”

He doesn’t have to be asked twice, finishing into the condom with a low groan. You rock in his lap to ride out both of your highs, until eventually he slides out of you and you collapse into his chest. Minjae laughs, pulling back the covers on his bed so you could be warm and comfortable. 

“Y/N?” He whispers softly, in case you might’ve already fallen asleep. You hum in response, stirring so you could look up at him. He thinks he could fall in love with you. “I just want you to know that I mean it when I say things are different with you. I wanna see where this road takes us.”

“I believe you,” you smile, something so pretty like the star on top of his Christmas tree and so cozy like a mug of hot cocoa. “And I want that, too. My feelings for you are kinda scary, Kim Minjae.”

“I could say the same about mine for you.” His expression is the spitting image of one of your dreams. You were in this exact scenario, except instead of confessing to each other for the first time, you had been together for years and this was just a typical morning ritual for you. 

“Just promise me one thing?” You trace random things into his abdomen, blinking up at him. 

“Anything.” He nods, recognizing the seriousness in your gaze. 

“Don’t break my heart.” The way you ask him this, looking at him like he personally painted sunsets, he would burn bridges for you. 

“I wasn’t ever planning on it.”

© 𝒕𝒊𝒓����𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒊𝒏.

[shady-tavern]

Preview for "Mirror World" the January Short Story

(Warnings ahead for implied and described violence, please be sure to take care of yourselves)

*.*.*

For as long as Alice could remember something had been wrong with her reflection. It moved just a tiny tad too slow, looked just a little too sharp around the edges and from a young age on she knew better than to meet its eyes, keeping her gaze at her reflection's collarbone and never raising it further. Her reflection's chin was a tad too far up, as though it wasn't looking down either.

Once or twice, just as she turned away from the mirror, she swore that for just a brief second she caught her reflection wriggling its fingers at her from the corner of her eye.

She didn't mention anything to anyone, not after her parents scolded her when she had asked for their help, telling her to stop spouting nonsense. They said that she ought to do something more productive with her creativity than try to scare them.

So Alice buried herself in books and fantastical stories, badgered travelers for tales of their journeys and snuck into the tavern behind her parents backs to ask others about the things they had seen.

Their world had long since lost most of its magic, people told her. The last dragon had been slain by the Church knights a good fifty years ago, its bones mounted in the capital in the grand palace of the king and queen. But while magic was nearly completely gone, it didn't mean that danger was as well.

It made her dream of daring adventurers and noble warriors as she listened to tall tales about defeating bandits and rescuing princesses. It made her wish she had been born a boy so she could go out into the world to seek adventure herself. 

It made her sneak out with the rising sun to badger a local veteran until the man gruffly started to give her pointers that turned into full lessons.

He never told her parents and neither did she. She knew what they would think about such things, how they would scold her and forbid it and tell her that a girl had to spend her time with better, more appropriate things.

But it made her brave and daring to steal away moments for herself and her dreams. It made it easier to face her reflection, draping a cloth over the top of the mirror so she wouldn't risk meeting its eyes while still using the mirror.

Not even the wobbly reflection of a lake was safe. Actually, reflective surfaces that weren't mirrors were the worst. She swore that sometimes she saw things beyond her reflection that didn't exist in her own world. 

A forest of glass trees, a sky filled with stars that made her feel searing cold just by glancing at them. Eternally drifting snow even though the night sky above was clear and cloud free.

Her reflection never spoke to her, never moved in an overly obvious manner, but it tickled along her senses every time. That sense of dread. Like she had something monstrous breathing down her neck, waiting to be looked at. Waiting to devour her whole.

Aside from her reflection, her life was perfectly ordinary. She hid her calluses beneath the gloves her parents were glad to see her wear, for it was in fashion for young ladies. She made sure to smile and be pretty and agreeable so they wouldn't think to investigate how she spent her free time.

If they thought her to be an obedient girl, if they thought she wouldn't lie to them, that she was perfectly happy to do as they said, she could be free outside her home a couple of hours here and there.

Her closest friends knew what she was doing when she left the house at the first hint of dawn, sneaking back home two hours later just in time to greet her parents as they woke up and they kept her confidence.

Her friends though, soon started to groan and grumble over the tea parties they had to attend as their parents tried to find good matches for them for they were at an age to get married off. While most of them remained unenthusiastic, slowly, some of them started to look excited. 

Alice was happy for those who liked their matches, listening as they described the person they had gone on a fifth walk with in two weeks, the letters and secret little gifts they exchanged. For the friends who weren't happy, she offered what distractions she could.

She snuck them out to go dancing at the tavern and at festivals, leaving books and other little gifts tucked into their coat pockets on the way home so their parents wouldn't know their children read those raunchy, exciting novels that they scoffed at.

Life was mostly good, if at times a little hectic.

Until her parents sat her down to discuss her marriage with her.

"You're old enough now," her father said, calm and certain. "We have a good family namecand we'll choose someone to further our business."

"There is no greater honor," her mother added, all prim and proper. "Oh dear, don't look so surprised, surely you didn't think you'd be the only one of your friends who wouldn't get married?"

Her parents hadn't mentioned marriage even once in the past and Alice realized that this was one of those things they considered so matter of fact they hadn't seen the need to bring the topic up before.

"What if I want to choose whoe I marry?" she asked and her parents hummed, thoughtful.

"You can, of course, bring up someone you'd like us to consider," her father allowed. "However, please be certain that he comes from a reputable family, we will not let you squander our hard earned fortune on an errand boy."

Alice had no such person in mind, especially not someone they would consider worthy. She didn't wish to get married to a stranger either. She enjoyed her freedom, to have her life and time to herself and to go out dancing until she was dizzy with how many times she spun around. To visit the old veteran who never went easy on her but treated her with gruff kindness all the same.

She had seen what happened to many married couples – married women especially – once the knot was tied. There were expectations, no more parties, no more going  wherever one liked. Decorum had to be maintained, women deferring to their husbands and, within a year usually, a child was born.

The thought of having to bear a child made her feel vaguely ill. Children were fine, they were cheerful little bundles that sometimes were quite snot covered, but she didn't mind them. She just didn't want one herself.

She tried to protest, carefully selecting her words, but her parents refused her sharply. She was to get married and that was the end of it.

She stood in her room an hour later, feeling the hot well of tears in her eyes, a downright angry helplessness looming ahead of her as she thought of her parents' expectations. Her hands empty where she had once held the reins of her own future. Only, she had never truly held them, had just been given a few years to do as she liked, her future always held in her parents' hands.

A movement from the corner of her eye made her startle and she glanced over, only to still. Her reflection was beckoning her over and it...it was and wasn't her reflection.

It looked like her on the surface, but the nails looked just a tiny bit too long, the skin a little bit too smooth, the curled fingers hinting at a power she could only dream of having.

Never before, not once for as long as she could remember, had her reflection done something so obvious. She found herself stepping closer, keeping her gaze lowered as she lifted the cloth far enough to reveal half of her reflection's face.

"Do you want to be set free?" the reflection asked and while it was her voice, it had a strangely musical quality to it, reminding her of people trailing fingers long the rims of glasses to create melodies. 

Alice lifted her gaze a little further and bit back a gasp. Her room was no longer reflected in the mirror, instead there was that glass forest again with the icy stars above, everything covered in thick snow.

"I've watched you for so many years," her reflection said, all sweet and soft and kind and it rang wrong in the very marrow of her bones. "Such a smart girl, don't you think you deserve better? A life of your own that no one but you controls?" Her reflection leaned closer and Alice hurriedly lowered the cloth a little bit to ensure their eyes couldn't possibly meet. "Don't you want to see magic?"

She did, was the thing. She wanted everything the reflection offered, but she had also read enough stories to know better than to think it was that easy. There was always a price to be paid.

Her reflection smiled and it looked too sharp, the hint of teeth revealed were too white. "You are of course, right to be suspicious," her reflection said, still so sweet and soft and kind and she wondered if this was what she sounded like when she spoke with people while she acted perfectly polite and proper. "I do require a little price to be paid."

"What is it?" Alice found herself asking, leaning a little forward. Cold radiated from the mirror, but it didn't chill her the same way the frost in her world did. Instead it felt...refreshing. She wanted to breathe it in until it suffused every fiber of her being, setting her free like a wild north wind.

"A day in your shoes," her reflection said, holding out a hand as though she might reach out to touch it. "Nothing more and nothing less."

A day of trading places. A day in a world of glass trees and ice stars and eternal snow to be...set free. To touch magic. It sounded too good to be true, but Alice found she wanted to take that deal. She wanted to take it more than anything else if it meant she could finally be fully in control of her own life.

"What will you do if we trade places? And answer me truthfully," she demanded, making sure to keep her voice down so her parents wouldn't come investigate. Her reflection's smile grew a tad.

"I want to walk a world of warmth," it answered. "Soak up the sunlight, sit at your table and eat your hot food and drink your sweet wine and fill myself to the core with it all, so when I return, the cold will melt beneath my touch."

It sounded reasonable, she had to admit. She wouldn't mind sharing what she had, to give up a few meals and some nice drinks. A day of her life was nothing in the grand scheme of things. It was nothing compared to a life of servitude and empty, polite smiles and not knowing whether or not to resent her husband and parents for taking everything she wanted from her.

Her husband could give her all the books he wanted, all the fighting lessons he wanted, at the end of the day, he was the one who held the reins of her life. Who could drag her wherever he wanted, like a collared dog.

"Just one day?" she asked and her reflection's smile turned into a grin, the chill radiating from the mirror spilling forth until she swore she saw frost appear along the wooden frame.

"We will trade places from sunrise to sunset," her reflection offered. "The moment you see the sun set we trade places again."

Was this deal truly too good to be true? She would trade some parts of her life – not even a full day – and some heat for magic and freedom. Maybe her reflection thought the same thing, maybe the heat of her home meant something more than she realized in that world of eternal night and snow and glass trees.

"You will hurt no one in my world and no one in yours can harm me," Alice said and the reflection pressed its hand against the other side of the mirror.

"Yes," it answered and Alice hesitated just one more moment, before she took a deep breath and pressed her hand against glass so cold it should have hurt but instead it just felt refreshing. Like the cold opened up her lungs and made her breathe in more than mere air. A taste of something more filled her mouth.

A sudden pain in her palm made her flinch back and she stared wide-eyed at the thin, shallow cut, a few beads of blood oozing forth. She snapped her gaze towards the mirror to see that her reflection was bleeding as well. Only what welled forth from its palm was pale pink and half translucent.

"A deal made and accepted and sealed in blood," it said and she pressed her lips together, not protesting. If it bound her reflection to her conditions, it was...alright.

"Could have warned me," she muttered and her reflection laughed, tinkling like tiny silver bells she had once seen sold by traveling merchants from the capital. 

"The sun is setting soon," her reflection whispered. "Once it rises once more, come here."

"Alright," she whispered back and then there was silence, her reflection acting as always. A little strange, a little unsettling, a tiny bit too slow in following her movements.

*.*.*

If you wish to read more, head to my patreon or ko-fi or give my masterpost a look! Thank you so very much for all your support, it all means the world to me, from every like to reblog and of course your support on patreon and ko-fi. Thank you so much!

[wintvies]

reviewing my lip products 🪽

since the year is coming to an end, i wanted to review all of my lippies that i’ve used this year, and evaluate if i’ll repurchase some of them next year, or if i’ll leave some of these behind in 2024 ৻ꪆ

nyx fat oil lip drip

definitely one of my favourite products of the year! it has a very nice formula and moisturises my lips very nicely! i recommended this to many people already/gifted this lip oil, and everyone only has good things to say about it. i also really like the applicator, because it just feels very satisfying to me. 🌝 you do have to reapply this every few hours, but it’s still a very good lip oil imo, and it also gets bonus points for the affordable price. 9.5/10

essence extreme shine volume lipgloss

it’s a pretty good lipgloss. for me personally, this is what got me into makeup, so i would definitely recommend this if you’re just starting out! it’s also very affordable and the shades are pretty too. but, it’s really sticky. 😭 one blow of the wind and that lipgloss will be holding your hair strands hostage. 7/10

nyx slick click

imo it's a pretty solid glossy lip balm. the packaging is very compact, but since the packaging has a click-pen design, it gets really difficult to get some of the lip balm out, when the tube is almost empty. other than that, it's pretty good. it moisturises your lips well, and since this product is a lip balm, it's not too sticky either. it lasts for a few hours, but if you eat/drink anything, you'd definitely have to reapply it. but since the package only contains 2g, and costs 10 euros i probably wouldn't repurchase this. 5.8/10.

maybelline color sensational lipstick

i think this is a good everyday lipstick! it has a pretty lightweight and creamy formula, which i really liked, and it stays on for about four hours. the lipstick has a good amount of pigment, and all around, it's pretty solid. if this ran out, i'd probably repurchase it, since it's a nice staple to have in my makeup bag. 💖 6.8/10.

kiko velvet passion matte lipstick

this lipstick is a little similar to the previous one, since they both have lightweight formulas. but, while the maybelline one has a little bit of a glossy effect, this one is completely matte. as for the formula/texture, i really liked the texture of this lipstick! it feels very soft and velvety, and it's really satisfying to apply it imo. my only issue with this lipstick is that it really emphasized the texture of my lips by the four hour mark, and sometimes it also dried my lips out a little. other than that, it's nice, and i think i'd repurchase it! 7/10

essence what a tint!

it's a pretty good tint. i saw a couple of people saying about how it was better than benetint, but i can't really give you my opinion on that, since i'm too broke for benetint! 💖 as for the color, it was wayyy to pink for me. 😭 like it was HOT pink. neon marker pink. idk, i think that color def suits some people, but it most definitely is NOT my color!! but on a positive note, it is strong. it will not move once you put it on. i put a little bit of it on my hand to test it out again, and it didn't move AT ALL for around three to four days. in conclusion, it's a good product, just not for me! 5/10.

nyx butter gloss

I LITERALLY LVOE THIS PRODUCT SO MCUH!!!!!!!!!!! it is truly one of my favorite lip glosses of all time and i do NOT care that i bought it not too long ago. the shades are really pretty, and there's a large variety of shades too (32 to be exact). also, the texture is very good, imo. the lip gloss just feels so smooth, and it isn't really sticky either, unlike some other glosses. i also really liked the fragrance, which is surprising, since i usually don't like how lip glosses smell. the only cons i can think of is that it needs to be reapplied often, especially after eating. other than that, the nyx butter gloss is literally so amazing, especially for the affordable price. i would literally buy a bazillion of these if i could. 10/10.

[find-the-path]

Experimental Studies in Cultural Traditions - Jedi attempt trick-or-treating for the ask game!!!

“Thiff is th’ bes,” Reeft declares, through a hefty mouthful of his fourth candy bar. Obi-Wan takes a much more reasonably-sized bite from his own, grinning around it. None of their masters would ever have allowed this much sugar in one sitting, least of all Qui-Gon. What had been a cause for anxiety when Quinlan first talked him into this “experiment” now became a thrill for all five giggly, sugar-high padawans.

[icewindandboringhorror]

I know this is just a silly bad quality random screencap of a screencap that I found on facebook lol, BUT it's a succinct enough image to easily describe the concept in a quick/accessible way hopefully :

-

(and of course, feel free to elaborate in tags, etc.! (especially elaborating about other senses as well.. can you "hear" in your mind just as well as you can "see"? taste? etc.) It's an interesting topic to me, as someone who's like a 4.5 at MOST lol. I'm curious what option will be the most common :0c )

[prettyboykatsuki]

bnha is so overhated bro boooo

[mariocki]

Mansion of the Doomed (Massacre Mansion, 1976)

"You must trust me. I'm going to give you back your eyes, all of you. Soon. As soon as I've succeeded with Nancy, as soon as I... I discover the truth. I will share that truth with you. For the whole world! I believe in humanity, that's - that's what it's all about."

[ehh-is-the-name]

It's past 11 on a school night and I'm fucking crying over robot sentience.

I could never understand what it would feel like to be created with the intent to kill and maim. Maybe, the intent to work and be worked, but not kill and maim.

I will never understand what it's like to be created with the intention of being a product for the masses, either. I think, I hope, I beg, no one does.

I will never ever be able to fully comprehend why hours of people's work, time, and money would be put into formulating my sentience only for me to be seen as disposable. Even if I could be improved, even if I were "defective", there is no reasonable justification for giving me emotions only to dismiss them by pushing me as a product for a year before starting anew.

It's... It's cruel, to the machines. Sentient or not, it's cruel. Though, I guess we are cruel.