#Fisher Price Dress Up Doll

[muppet-facts]

Muppet Fact #491

In 1981 and 1982, plush dress-up dolls of Kermit the Frog, Miss Piggy, and Gonzo were produced by Fisher-Price. These dolls were sold with one outfit, and several premade outfit packs were produced for each character. In addition to these, patters from Vogue Patterns were sold so that someone could sew outfits for them as well.

Sources:

Dress-Up Muppet Dolls. Muppet Wiki.

1981 Fisher-Price Print Advertisment.

1982 Fisher Price Print Advertisement.

[anarcoqueer1994]

Still on a Steve likes Barbie kick and I'm going to keep putting that into the universe.

When Steve was 5 years old, he used to go to the store whenever his parents were in town, where they would buy him toys to make up for the fact that they were never there. It was back when they would still pretend they cared, feigning love between long bouts of absenteeism and moments of his fathers violent temper. He could get any 'boy' toy he wanted. Over the trips, he had gotten baseball stuff, a Fisher Price Farm set, a toy plane, Matchbox and Hot Wheel Cars; honestly, he had any toy a boy could want. But he wanted something else.

He would always pass the pink aisles filled with toys that were supposed to be for girls, and he was enthralled with one toy in particular. Nestled between the baby dolls and the easy bake ovens were pretty Barbie dolls with fantastic outfits and soft brushable hair. And he wanted one so badly. He would always ask for one and every time he was met with harsh words from his father. "Steven, don't be a pansy. Boys don't like Barbies unless they are sissies. Are you a sissy, Steven? Do you want your friends at school to find out?"

Steve always shakes his head, dejected. He then goes and picks out a boy toy, a toy his dad won't be mad at him about. But one day, something changes. One of the nice women who worked at the store, Mrs. Munson, had watched as Steve continuously was shot down by his father . She felt bad for him, so that day, as she checks them out, she slips a Growing Hair Barbie into the bag discretly along with the Lincoln Logs, before handing little Steve the bag, winking kindly at him as she does.

And Steve immediately goes home and runs up to his room, hiding the packaging under his bed before playing with the doll. He loved her hair and dress, and everything about her. She was glamorous and beautiful, everything Steve wanted.

He would sneak her with him everywhere, even slipping her in his backpack when he would go to the playground. Today was one of those days, going to the park with his nanny, as his parents were in Chicago. He would run and hide behind a tree, out of sight from his nanny, where he could play quietly with the doll.

He is so wrapped up in his game that he doesn't notice someone walking up next to them until they sit down on the ground beside them. Steve looks over to see a boy from his school in the grade above him. Panic fills his face as he tries to hide the doll. Even back then, his father instilled shame in him whenever he was doing something that wasn't traditionally masculine.

But boy smiles at him, one tooth missing from where the baby tooth fell out. "Hi, I'm Eddie. Can me and my dragon," he motions to the plastic figure in his hand, "play with you? Your doll looks cool and maybe can be a princess. Or knight, or a knight princess." Eddie starts to ramble.

Steve scrunches up him nose, confused that the other boy isn't making fun of him. "Wait, you wanna play with me and my Barbie, even though I'm a boy?"

"Yea! It gets lonely playing by myself and you looked like you were having fun!"

"Oh." Steve looks down, unsure how to feel. He really wants to play but what if the other boy just is playing a joke on him. "My dad says Barbie is a girls toy."

Eddie laughs. "My dad says that junk too, but my mommy says toys are for everyone, no matter what. We can play with whatever. So can we play, um...I forgot to ask your name?"

Steve can't help but smile at the kind words. "Sure! And I'm Steve. Oh and Barbie is definitely a princess knight and she is going slay your dragon!" He giggles.

The boys spend the rest of the afternoon playing together until his nanny calls for him. On the bench near her, he sees the lady from the store and watches as Eddie leaves with her.

They play again the next few times they are at the playground, always hiding the Barbie from the nanny so he doesn't get in trouble. But Steve loves it, making up adventures for Steve’s Barbie and Eddie’s dragon. Steve thinks Eddie could be his best friend.

One day, though, his parents are actually in town, and they make a show of taking him to go and play instead of the nanny. He doesn't think anything of it. They do this all the time to show other people they care. Steve and Eddie fall into their regular routine, but Mr. Harrington seems far more observant of Steve than the nanny, always acutely aware of Steve's actions so he can meet sure his son does not embarrass him.

He can see Steve's legs sticking out from behind the tree and the legs of another boy. He decides to walk closer to "check on" (read: make sure he isn't hanging out with the wrong kids). Steve does not notice until he is being yanked up by the back of his collar, fear filling his eyes as he looks at Eddie. He drops the doll out of panic.

"Steven Michael Harrington, what the fuck are you playing with?" His voice is low but stern.

"I...I..." Steve begins to stutter, a tear forms in his eye.

"You're not that stupid boy, answer me." His father is still speaking with gridded teeth.

"A Barbie, sir." He whispers.

"Where did you that?" His dad presses

"I...." Steve looks around, doesn't want to get Eddie’s mom in trouble, and is unsure what to say as he stands in front of his father scared.

"I gave it to him. It's mine." Eddie lies before Steve can say anything, watching what is happening, seeing the same fear in Steve’s face that he has felt when his dad has one too many drinks.

Steve goes to speak, but before he can, Mr. Harrington is pulling Steve away, leaving the doll abandoned on the ground. He yells out "Do not talk to my son anymore." Steve tries to protest, but his dad just grips his hand tighter around his wrist, shutting him up.

Eddie goes home with the doll that night, knowing Steve won't be allowed to talk to him anymore. He spends the night crying on his mother's lap, as Steve cries alone in his room over the loss of his first friend and his special doll.

~~

Years passed, and they don't talk, Steve too scare when he was younger to disappoint his dad, and by the time he is old enough to stand up for himself, he thinks iits too late. Things change, the Harrington parents being around less and less, Eddie’s mother passing, and his uncle Wayne taking him in. Steve grows into the all-American boy his father wanted him to be, and Eddie leans more and more into letting his freak flag fly.

But then the upside-down happens, and Steve grows some .ore, and then there was Spring break, and he is running with Eddie’s near lifeless body out of there, barely getting him to the hospital in time. But Eddie recovers, and they grow close again.

Everyone around them can see their mutual crush, but it is Eddie who makes the first move. Nearly 5 months after Vecna, Steve finds a shoe box wrapped in newspaper on his front porch. The note attached reads

"Would you still be my princess-knight? Maybe we can try our play dates again, except maybe we make it a real date?-Eddie"

When Steve opens the box, inside is his original Barbie from all those years ago with a pretty pink rose. Eddie had kept it all this time. He can feel a tear rolling down his cheek. Eddie cared enough to keep her.

It doesn’t take long before Steve is heading to Eddie's, ready to show him how appreciative he is.

[dat2ndaccount97]

Obsessed Barbie Doll Fan/Collector talks about their doll free childhood:

With the Barbie Movie now out, me spending the past week exclusively playing with my dolls + engaging with doll related social media, and seeing people talk about their childhood Barbies/other dolls and sharing stories, has me thinking about my doll free childhood.

For those who may not know, despite how OBSESSED I am with dolls and barbie in particular. I didn't grow up with dolls or play with dolls as a kid, because of the ol' "boys can't play with dolls" gender roles BS, and also because I didn't realize I was into dolls for a long time. And both of those things kinda played into each other.

My earliest Doll related memory (that I have shared many times already) is when I was 3-5 Years old (in the early 00s), My mother took me to the KB Toys Outlet by our house which she regularly did. for whatever reason I didn't want another Batman action figure I wanted a Barbie. She was a Brunette Princess Barbie in a purple-ish dress IIRC. My mom said no, I threw I fit, My mom tried to calm me down and entice me with boy toys, I continued fitting, she caved and got her for me. Soon as we got home Doll was taken from me, I was not allowed to have her. This Memory stuck with me for years to come.

I have another memory of having a doll of Bubbles from The Powerpuff Girls (with molded on hair), and I have a vague memory of hearing the adults discuss if it was ok for me to have her. After that it's many close calls/short encounters with barbies and other dolls, where I was interested but couldn't really articulate why nor say I was interested because I was a boy, and dolls are for girls.

But I do remember distinctly playing with my girl cousin's fisher price (?) doll house at my aunts house, and a vague (possibly fake?) memory of me being at said aunt's place for the weekend while my cousins were away and my aunt saying i could play with their toys, which I didn't.

Between all of that and when I started secretly playing with my moms old dolls in middle school it was just seeing Doll Commercials on TV, and eventually discovering some photo site called Flickr and looking at doll pictures on there. But looking back on all of this and other vague memories and who I was as a kid, I'm now fairly sure I would've loved to play with Barbies and/or similar fashion dolls if I was allowed.

But because of those darn gender roles, I never really got chance/choice, to be able to even consider the possibility of me, a boy, being able to play with toys "For girls" without getting weird looks or being asked why (or possibly getting scolded or maybe even snapped or yelled at). It was something I kinda kept to myself until My parents found out I was playing with my mom's broken and ratty old barbie dolls in secret. Which they were ok with... for about a month and they said to put them away. Granted at 13/14 I couldn't really articulate into words why I liked dolls so much so they probably got the wrong idea.

And Because of the way my parents acted every time they found out about my dolls I kept it to myself for many years even as I got active on social media in the mid 2010s. But as I slowly came out about it, I realized it was really just my weird boomer parents who hated it. Literally everyone else i've told in my life that I collect barbies has been super cool/chill about it, and/or think it's really cool actually.

I'm also glad to see people are more and more accepting to the idea of boys playing with dolls, and you even see boys playing with barbies in some commercials and catalogue photos and etc. And maybe, just maybe, there's some kid out there like me with a bin of Batman action figures who suddenly wants a barbie from the toy store but unlike me actually gets to keep her and play with her and cherish her because his parents are cool.

[treasurerussell]

gender -group 8

for baby alive and ILY dolls were targeted too the female gender because it has a female VoiceOver and has girls playing with dolls to show them nurturing & playing dress up

hot wheels , fisher price for boys because it presents masculinity with construction and playing with cars .

for gushers and tummy stuffers its neutral to both genders because it shows both genders and include Manny things neutral for both

[leos-regression-cove]

Nothing in the Parenting Books Prepared Me For This

57. It's Alright I Have You

Synopsis: Mobius realizes that he misses being small and decides to give age dreaming another try.

Word count: 3,856

Stand Alone?: 1/3 you might also want context from chapter 30.

Warnings: OOC/Self indulgent, diapers

Notes: We've finally gotten to the chapter that my DNI banner is taken from!

Read it on AO3!

It was a warm morning, and something was tugging at Mobius. 

Not physically. 

No, there was no little burrowing their face into his chest. 

He made sure that these thoughts were his own, and not a little leakage of magic from the hands of Sylvie or Loki.

He sat up, and rubbed his face with his hands, hoping to swish away the creeping thoughts. 

He groaned and realized that these ideas would not go away, not until he acted on them. But maybe there was still time for the concepts to fade? 

He got up, took a shower, and got dressed, choosing a light blue t-shirt, a jacket, and a pair of shorts. Trying to stay quiet while moving through the bedroom, hoping not to rouse Loki, he peeked out the front windows to check that Thor’s cabin was shut and had no smoke in the chimney, and that Sylvie was not approaching the cabin after her hunt. 

As silently and quickly as he could, Mobius grabbed a bottle out of a kitchen cabinet and filled it with tap water, and then rooted through Sylvie and Loki’s collection of pacifiers for one that hadn’t been used recently, washed it off, and slipped back to the nursery. 

He shut the door, and regretted not putting a lock on it as he constantly stared at it, and tried to look through the closed blinds for Sylvie once more as he opened the creaky lid of the toy box. 

Cringing, he tried not to make much noise, but he was looking for something specific; The few further down in the bin that he rarely touched, that admittedly, he had bought more for himself than for either of his littles; The vintage Fisher-Price toys made to look as if they were made in the 1960’s and 70’s, the old fashioned fabric dolls from the late 18th century up to the 1940’s. There were a couple of tin wind-up toys in the bottom of the tub as well, much like the ones Scott and Hope had kept, but those ones were so much more interesting since they weren’t ones that the littles had in their own home. 

In all honesty, the toy box had a sort of endless quality to it, if Mobius had reached his hand in too deep, there was a good chance he may have fallen in, never to be seen again. But he found exactly what he was looking for; scooting down onto his belly, putting the pacifier into his mouth, and playing with a beaded rattling toy. It was such a quiet toy, that he knew it wouldn’t be heard through the walls like maybe the rainbow colored rotary phone or radio might. 

But there was one mistake he made that Loki soon noticed. 

The baby monitor jingled with tiny notes. At first, the sleepy god assumed Mobius was taking care of Sylvie, but as he kept listening, no talking came through the other end. 

“Alright, m’ coming,” he mumbled, assuming that Mobius had simply been called into work early and Sylvie was on her own. 

Mobius quickly sat up as he felt the doorknob turn.

“Are you playing nicely, darling?-” Loki asked, before he could assess what he actually saw. 

Mobius quietly looked away, going bright, bright red as Loki paused.

“My goodness, aren’t you adorable?” Loki asked instead. “Oh and you got all your toys out, huh? Those are very interesting. What does this one do? Can you show me?” 

“Loki, I’m not regressed, it’s alright,” Mobius insisted. “I… I just wanted to play with something for a while.” 

“But Sylvie got to care for you! Why can’t I?” Loki pouted.

“Fine, fine, you can take care of me… BUT: the second you slip I’m back being in charge, got that?” 

Loki snickered, mocking the idea that he’d slip or that Mobius was ever really in charge. “Okay, Mr. big boy.” Loki set the dropped pacifier back into his mouth. “Are you still a little baby like last time?” 

“Um… I don’t know. I don’ think so.” Mobius mumbled with the pacifier in his mouth. 

“Hm, do you have an idea of how old you are?” 

“No- No no, Loki I’m not regress’d. I’m still an adult- it's just… diffent.” 

“Fussy, fussy.” Loki picked him up, a sneaky smile creeping across his face. He looked down at the toys on the floor, lightly touching a couple with his feet. “I think you’re still a little one… probably around my age, hm?” He set Mobius down on the changing table and played with the age dreamer’s hands. “Did you like the nappy Sylvie gave you, or should we try pull-ups?” 

Once again, Mobius went bright red and felt as though he couldn’t speak. 

Loki smiled at him. “Nappy it is, then.” 

He laid Mobius down and pretended that this was such a normal process, which in a way, it was, Mobius just wasn’t used to being on this end of it. 

“You will tell me about any accidents though, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

Loki smiled, what a good boy. “So we’ll have some breakfast, a little more play time, and then we’ll go see Thor, doesn’t that sound lovely?” 

“See Thor? I don’t…” 

“We have our Sunday tea! You know that!” 

“I- can’t you just let me stay here and play on my own?” 

“I don’t think so, unless you want me to take the baby monitor with me so I can listen in. But you really don’t think Thor will mind, do you? He’s used to being around sweet little babies like the ones you take such good care of.” 

The last compliment made Mobius smile as Loki picked him back up. 

“We can even take the stroller over, if you like,”

“It’s like 30 feet!” 

“Oh, but it’ll be so fun! And you know Thor doesn’t have many chairs.” 

“Fine.” Mobius anxiously said as Loki switched out his adult clothes for something littler; a set of one-piece tiger pajamas. 

Although Mobius found the outfit choice odd, he didn’t deny that they were adorable and suited him well. 

Loki set him down with the toys again, before noticing the partially drunk bottle filled with water on the ground. “Oh, sweet child, is this yours?” he asked. 

Mobius grabbed for it instead of answering.

“Maybe we should get you something yummy to drink instead, I remember someone taught me how to make little formula.” 

Mobius couldn’t help but grin, removing the bottle from his mouth and trying to hand it to Loki, but Loki picked him up entirely instead. 

Mobius thought for a moment about saying something, about staring Loki in the face or asking to just walk, to save his dignity, but before he could, Loki set a hand on his back, and pulled him in close so that Mobius was resting his head on Loki’s shoulder. He decided not to speak, but to instead sigh out a deep breath and find comfort in the crook of Loki’s neck, to which Loki responded with a smile and a gently placed, silent kiss, next to Mobius’ ear. 

Loki set the age-dreamer down in the big green highchair and locked him in before Mobius had a moment to protest. 

“You better not make me breakfast,” Mobius crossed his arms and huffed as he said it while refusing to let his feet rest on the step of the highchair. 

“Well it’s either that or a jar of baby food, so you chose.” Loki didn’t even look at him as he said it, but instead grabbed a bowl down. 

Mobius bit his cheek and stayed quietly pouting, knowing he wasn’t going to get what he wanted no matter what he did. “I don’t even need the highchair,” he grumbled, kicking the upper leg of their table as he swung his legs. 

“You're just hungry,” Loki hummed to himself as he chose to make the water immediately warm and the oatmeal instantly set. 

Loki set the bowl and bottle down on the tray so he could check if Mobius would feed himself. But just like last time he was little, Mobius turned his nose up. 

“Oh come on, Mobius. You eat this or a bagel literally every morning. What’s wrong with it?”

Mobius bit his tongue to stop himself from smiling, slightly pleased with the power he could hold in this situation, but the triumph was short lived and Loki finally decided to simply shove it into his mouth, anyway.

Mobius stared at him, slightly horrified after he did it and obviously feeling a little bit violated by the action. 

“That’s what happens to little ones who show me they can’t eat on their own,” Loki told him, showing no empathy.

Mobius swallowed and wiped his mouth on a fleecy sleeve. 

“Should I make the jetski noises like mummy did last time? Would that make it easier?” He tried it out, hardly stopping himself from laughing as Mobius made sure to look very displeased and upset as he took the spoon. 

“I’ll let you try to feed yourself again if you really want,” Loki tried once more, letting Mobius snatch the plastic baby spoon from his fingers and hold it in a fist. 

Loki sat across from him, with his head in his hands, giving Mobius the mushiest, proudest, and goofiest stare of pure love in an absolutely sappy way, until Mobius stopped ignoring it and paused halfway to his mouth. 

“Why’re you lookin’ at me?” he asked, seriously at first, but starting to giggle halfway through. 

“How could I not?” 

Mobius’ mustache was a mess and the white and green dinosaur bib around his neck was absolutely caked in oatmeal. Due to, in no small part, some very minor motor-skill manipulation from Loki, which Mobius definitely noticed, but simply took as an extra challenge.

After breakfast, Loki let Mobius have his abilities back, and brought him back to his toys, setting a pacifier in his mouth after cleaning him up. 

The little one let Loki pet his back and handed him toys, like the receiver to a toy rotary phone or a very old fabric doll. But eventually he paused. 

“Is something wrong, darling?” 

“Something doesn’t feel right,” Mobius said as if he was just making a discovery, and tried to pick his next few words carefully. “This isn’t… fun, yknow?”

“That’s the same conclusion you came to last time,” Loki observed.

“I… I guess, but I thought it would be different. I wanted to try this. I felt myself slipping like you do, but like… differently. It’s weird- I…” He was getting frustrated trying to put these ideas into words. He wanted to be small and play, but there was an even stronger mental block, like an impenetrable brick wall, that he just couldn’t break through. 

“Maybe we should try some older kid activities?” 

“Yeah, maybe. I’ll know it when I feel it.”

“I know you will. It just takes some practice, be patient with yourself.” 

Mobius couldn’t help but smile. It wasn’t often he got solid and sound advice from any of his Asgardian companions, including Thor. He could also hear Frigga’s words in Loki’s voice, as those phrases were nearly a constant utterance during his early magic learning days. 

“But I can still… be like this, right?” 

“What ever do you mean?” 

Mobius didn’t respond but instead made big eyes at Loki, and grabbed at his temporary caregiver’s shirt. 

“Ah, you want to still be treated like a baby?” Loki asked as he picked the little one up, cuddling him close. 

Mobius nodded bashfully. 

“Okay, well, what sounds fun? Do you want to watch a movie? Maybe we can color or do a puzzle?” 

“Can we do both? Color and movie?” 

“Of course we can,” Loki smiled, rubbing noses with the age dreamer. 

Mobius couldn’t help but grin.

“And what movie should I put on for you?” 

“Um… The Princess Bride is good…I like Pete’s Dragon, too…” 

“You like those puppets you showed us, do they have anything? You said there are lots of those movies.” 

“Oh! Yeah! There are lots of those. I like The Muppets Take Manhattan…. Wait no, actually, I’ve got a better idea-- Can we watch Winnie the Pooh?” 

With two swift movements, much less than it would take any human being, Loki found the 1977 movie, The Many Adventures of Winnie The Pooh for Mobius and turned it on before giving him a kiss on the cheek, and setting off to find him some toys and activities that may ease him into a regressed or generally smaller state: One of Sylvie’s coloring books about mythical creatures, which Mobius had already colored a few pages in; a few small puzzles and brain teasers, some easier than others; a puzzle book for littles, a pack of crayons, and just in case, he brought a few of the toys Mobius had previously been playing with. 

Mobius sat on the floor, watching his movie as he idly colored in a majestic beast while Loki skimmed his phone and remained rather uninterested. 

Then, the god felt a tug at his shirt. He dropped the phone down onto his chest and looked over at the dreamer. 

“Look! I finished it!” Mobius smiled, holding up his nicely colored piece to Loki. All the lines were neatly minded, and he took a good amount of effort to shade the drawing and make it look pretty. 

“That looks wonderful,” Loki commented. 

“Yeah, it’s a dragon.”

“Are you going to make another? Perhaps you should try to scribble it out this time. Can you hold the crayon in your fist?”

Mobius looked at the next paper in the book and hesitated.

“You can choose a different one, you don’t always need to go in order,” Loki reminded him. 

Eventually, as Loki watched Mobius stress about ruining one of the line art pieces, getting frustrated which gradually turned into a begrudging disinterest, he chose to pick up the little one, taking him from the torso and bringing him up, onto the couch, to rest against Loki’s chest, his back and silver hair being gently pet and caressed. “Would blank paper be better?” Loki ventured to ask. He could feel Mobius melting like putty in the palm of his hands as the age dreamer allowed emotions to overwhelm and overcome him in a way he wouldn’t when big, only just now beginning to calm down and slow his breathing. “There’s no pressure on you. We’re just playing today. Remember that.” 

Mobius nodded as he clawed into Loki’s shirt and set his head right underneath his caregiver’s chin. 

Regardless, Loki conjured a piece of paper and gently tossed it onto the table next to the coloring book. “I brought puzzles out, too, you know.” 

Mobius acknowledged this, but kept himself glued to the god. 

“Clingy and needy today, aren’t we?” Loki mused as he sat up. He tried to lean back and get a view of Mobius’ face. 

Mobius leaned as well, and gave Loki a simper around his pacifier. “A liddle bit.” 

Loki rubbed noses with him and smiled before hugging him close again. 

After plenty of cuddles and attention, the movie came to a close and Loki moved down onto the floor with his little, still holding him close but twisting him around. 

“Are you really sure you’re not a little baby?” Loki asked him, picking up a nearby toy and setting it in Mobius’ hands, letting the little one turn it over sleepily as he checked the little’s diaper. 

Mobius flinched at the feeling and whined, dropping the toy. 

“You’re okay, all dry. You know that’s what Sylvie and I deal with quite a bit.”

The little stared at him, seemingly shocked at having these dots connected, but Loki had already moved on. 

“I was going to suggest that we make another drawing together… But maybe we should get you down for a nap.” 

“I don’t need naps!” 

“Because it’s all pretend?” Loki scrunched up his nose mockingly. 

Mobius nodded very seriously. 

“Oh you’re so silly.” Loki tickled him as he said it. 

Mobius giggled and squealed in a childish way as he tried to escape from his caretaker’s grasp, but finally grabbed a crayon and handed it to Loki. 

Loki stopped with that and graciously thanked the little one for it. “Can you show me how little ones color?” he asked.

Mobius switched the crayon into his right hand and held it in a tight fist, just the way Loki had advised him to. 

Loki took his hand and pressed the crayon down onto the paper, encouraging him to make a first mark. “It’s alright. Just scribble. Let a little bit of chaos in.” 

Mobius looked back at him judgmentally before grinning with his pacifier in and taking the advice: Making big circles and squiggles.  

“That looks wonderful,” Loki commented once Mobius moved his hand away and did not pick up another crayon. “Shall we hang it on the fridge?” 

Mobius didn’t need to be asked twice. He pushed himself up onto his feet and found a spot in the middle of the fridge for the colorful page of scribbles right in between Loki’s baby handprints, and Sylvie’s “my family” finger-painting, pinning it on with a tacky jet-ski magnet. 

“Anything more you’d like to do before we get ready for tea?” 

“How much time do we have?” Mobius asked, looking up from the beginnings of a new scribble.

  “A half hour or so. I was thinking maybe we could give you a bath and-”

“I already took a shower, an’ I got a bath just a couple days ago,” Mobius declined. 

“So… what if I were to…”

“No, Loki, I can see where your mind is going. Don’t you even dare. Don’t even think about it.” He put his hands behind his back as if to check if Loki had already cast the spell.  

But, Loki didn’t, and let the little burst of magic die out from his fingertips. He didn’t really want to steal that much autonomy from him anyway. Not from someone he was so close with. 

“Well, if not that, then what should we do?” Loki asked, scooping the little up. 

Upon being met with this sudden weightless feeling, Mobius let out a remarkably high pitched noise.

Loki smiled and pretended not to notice it, fearing that if he interrupted, perhaps Mobius would still try to act grown up. 

The little played with his pacifier in his fingers and checked to see if Loki did have a reaction. 

“Shall we try the toys again? Or maybe we can bake something for Thor.”

Mobius nuzzled into Loki’s chest and tried to scoot up to a sitting position, where, once moved, he played with Loki’s hair. 

“Toys it is then,” Loki whispered as a couple of his locks were gently tugged. 

After the previous attempts with no success, this time, things worked. 

Mobius allowed himself to be comfortable. 

He let himself sink into Loki’s lap, and leaned back to let the adult hold him, but took Loki’s hand and asked him without subtlety, yet still silently, to make an illusion. 

Loki complied and created a miniature universe in the palm of his hand. 

Mobius’ eyes widened as he looked at the beauty. 

“This,” Loki said. “Is how much I love you.” 

The little one grabbed the back of his arm to keep himself propped up, and tried to bump the top of his head affectionately against Loki’s chin. 

“Look at this,” he whispered, trying to get the age dreamer to focus back up. 

Mobius did so and observed as Loki zoomed in, taking close up looks at all the stars and planets and galaxies. 

They made it to Earth, where Mobius helped find themselves and their little cabin, but just as Loki saw himself in the camera of his illusion, as it peered through the window, he suddenly went back to the full view of one tiny universe. 

“See how small we are? And yet”-- he moved the universe with his hand. “And yet you are all of it to me.” 

As he brought his hand up to Mobius’, the illusion seemed to be absorbed into the little one’s chest, by his heart. 

“You’re so cheesy,” Mobius laughed. 

“I thought it was quite sweet.” 

“Sweet… but cliche.” 

“Well fine then,” 

Mobius smiled playfully and put his pacifier in his mouth. 

“Fussy one,” Loki mumbled again, while checking the little one’s nappy once more. He paused as he felt something he didn’t expect. “Is that why you’re so bratty?”

“M’ not bratty,” Mobius laughed. “You’re the prince!” He crawled out of Loki’s lap to the toys, changing the subject. 

“Do you want me to change you before we go?” 

Mobius shifted from side to side while laying on his belly, but didn’t say a word. Loki couldn’t see his face, but the little was so pink. 

However, what Loki couldn’t see, he could feel.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed about this. It’s just a wet nappy.” 

He decided not to let Mobius make this decision for himself and set the age-dreamer onto the changing table. 

“Look, we can get you into pull-ups or you can use the potty if you like, but if you’re in nappies, I need to change you.”

Mobius reluctantly let Loki undo the first couple crotch snaps before deciding to get Loki’s attention, grabbing at the caregiver’s sleeve. 

“I forgot to give you a toy, didn’t I?”

“Mhm. Can I have a good one?”

“Yes, I’ll find you a good one,” Loki reassured him with a smile before grabbing a few different ones. Fidget toys and teethers were most common for nappy changes like this, but Loki couldn’t help but feeling like maybe a soft toy would be more welcomed. “That is, unless you want a puzzle toy. I could find you something like that…”

“This ‘s good,” Mobius smiled as Loki gave him an icy rattly teether and the soft, breathing otter. 

That made the rest of all of this much easier, as the little didn’t fuss or whine. Instead, every couple seconds, Loki would hear the plastic jingle of the teether along with the mechanical whir of the otter toy. 

“There we go,” Loki said softly as he patted Mobius’ hips before zipping up the tiger pajamas again and adjusting the snaps. “Now we’re all ready for tea, aren’t we?” 

Mobius hesitated until Loki picked him up, and then gave a light nod. 

“It’s just so scary, isn’t it?”

A little bit of a quicker nod and a tighter hug. 

“It’ll all be fine. We’ll be survive. I have you.”

Then came the final steps, just some easy things like making another bottle for the little and setting up the stroller. 

“This is what i’s like?” Mobius asked around his pacifier as Loki clicked the last few points of the seatbelt. 

“It is. Do you like it?” 

“Yeah,” the little simpered, looking at the overhead toys. 

“Good,” Loki smiled as he kneeled down to hand Mobius a bottle and kissed him on the cheek.

[leepunzel]

A little Easter present for myself...it's like the dress up Fisher Price Kermit and Piggy dolls from when I was a kid, but tinier and more Disney.

[howrry]

ice

a/n: finally! i’m settled into skool lyfe and bella is back in business bitch (we love alliteration) here is that full fic of ice i’ve been hinting at :~)

w/c: 4.2k

warnings: this fic has an age gap of about 4 years and one of the characters is an older teenager! this is totally legal where i’m from but if it’s not where you are or it makes you uncomfortable then maybe don’t read this? also smut

***

Waiting for that one Facetime was like watching a huge pot of water boil. It was cliché, but you were running out of mundane things to do since you’d gotten home from uni. Seriously—laundry, reorganizing your soulless childhood room, even fully unpacking despite having weeks to get comfortable. Of course, as soon as you came back, you had your reunion with your parents and other family, but you hadn’t quite reached the seeing-friends phase of coming home.

At least, not until that lovely ringtone hummed through your room and you pounced on the bed, swiping on Gemma’s beautiful face. “Babe!” you cried.

“Hush,” she joked, crunching on a red apple on her side of the screen. You could hear her turn down the volume by clicking the buttons on her phone.

“Are you ready for me, then?” you asked, bouncing up and down on your tippy toes.

“No, don’t want to see you,” she crunched again, “just wanted to call to see how your mum’s doing. Of course I’m ready, twit!”

“Watch your language!” you chastised. “But I’ll be over in a New York minute.”

Getting ready was a rush—at this point you were just ready to get down the street. You shoved your feet into your Birks and grabbed your phone and keys, and once you’d padded down the stairs, your parents merely got a “be at Gem’s, later!” before you slammed the door.

When you got there, it was Harry who greeted you. You’d knocked and waited, since their house was always locked anyways. He threw the door open so fast that his cross necklace was still swinging when he rested his head on his forearm propped up on the doorframe. “Sorry, we don’t want any Girl Scout cookies,” he joked, smirking around his own jab.

“Ha ha ha,” you sarcastically bit. “Move it, Fisher-Price, I’m here for your sister.”

“I had a great semester, thank yeh for askin’,” he smiled, moving back and letting you in. “What about y’self?”

“It was productive, actually. Good to see you again, H,” you responded congenially. Ahh, the smell of your friend’s home was so nostalgic and inviting. It was fall all year round with the pumpkin in the living room, vanilla in the foyer, pine needles upstairs…

“Likewise,” he winked just before you went upstairs to your friend’s room.

Harry had always been a little charmer. Anne raised him to be very polite and he was naturally entertaining despite his introverted tendencies, but he’d always been Gemma’s annoying little brother to you. He always tried to butt into your hangouts with her, as far back as when he was four and you were eight and he wanted to play outside with you two, up to when he was 15 and you were 19 and he tried to buy beer from Gemma.

But soon, things changed. Harry got taller and his voice dropped and his skin got clear, and suddenly he wasn’t just the annoying little brother anymore. He was almost an adult, and he certainly developed a way with girls. The first time you went to see Gem and Harry had a girl over, something you couldn’t describe churned in your stomach. There’s no way Harry didn’t notice the way you cut your eyes when you initially saw her.

Ever since then, he just took a different light in your eyes. Going to Gemma’s house suddenly had double the benefits since you were seeing your best friend and her stupid hot little brother. If she left you alone for any period of time, you’d do anything to get Harry’s attention. He would chat with this amused smirk, one hand in his pocket and the other fiddling with his cross necklace, as if he knew you were subtly pining.

It was honestly kind of pathetic. He was still in high school, and you were in the home stretch of university. You had a potential hook-up pool that was at least five times the size of his and a much better selection, yet you were yearning for a guy who can’t even buy his own cigarettes.

But you didn’t care, and obviously Harry didn’t either. He humored your goofy flirting and gave it right back to you. For the most part, it was just harmless compliments and light schoolyard jabs and never escalated past that, until, well, it did.

You were going to go to brunch with Gemma that day. She’d gotten a part-time job as a photographer’s intern downtown that year, and invited you to try a new café with her. It was the perfect excuse to wear that flowy Free People dress you got, so you agreed.

While getting ready, Gemma called you in a panic. “Y/N! I forgot my wallet on my vanity at home,” she breathed. “Do you mind getting it before coming over?”

“Not a problem,” you hummed, checking your lipstick.

“Thanks, love. My mum left the front door unlocked when she got in this morning so just make yourself at home looking for it. See you soon!” Gemma blew a kiss into the phone before hanging up.

Her front door was open, just like she warned, and you hopped up the stairs to her room. Unfortunately, Gemma was more of the messy type, so finding her wallet was no easy task. Her vanity was covered in makeup and hair care bottles and papers from the previous semester. Where the hell could the wallet possibly be?

“Looking for somethin’?” Harry asked, leaning on the door frame with a Coke can in hand.

You looked up, pushing the hair that had fallen in your face to the side. “Need your sister’s wallet. It’s brunch time.”

“Ooh, bring me back a ricotta toast,” he ordered, reaching into Gemma’s Louis purse hanging by her door and pulling out her black wallet.

“You’d be lucky if I brought back a napkin,” you sneered, taking the wallet from him and going to shove past him.

He blocked your exit and held a hand up to your shoulder. “Wait, doll. Your earring is twisted backwards.” The hand that stopped you trailed up to softly ghost across your face and fix your earring, which must have gotten tangled in your wild goose chase.

Fuck, he was close. You could hear the soft breaths fanning out from his nostrils, his almost disinterested gaze slowly morphing into his classic smirk, and hand not leaving your skin in a timely fashion. His piercing green eyes rendered you stupidly frozen.

And the tension snapped. Within minutes he had you out of your dress and was fucking you into Gemma’s floral duvet. Everything was happening so fast; you didn’t even stop to think about how wrong it was. The feel of his teeth dragging across your neck and the stretch of his cock inside you were really the only things on your mind at that point.

It was rough and quick and dirty (and quite possibly the hottest thing you’ve ever done) but by the time you two were adjusting yourselves and catching your breath, you were twenty minutes late to lunch. You blamed it on traffic and Gemma didn’t care to push it.

So that’s how it started. It wasn’t anything exclusive, it wasn’t intimate, and it certainly wasn’t something you talked about outside of the bedroom. “The bedroom” being figurative, of course, since Harry and you liked to get it on whenever you had the chance. It wasn’t weird if you ended up bent over a washing machine or on your knees in front of him pressed up against the wall in a hallway.

When you thought about it, like reallypondered in a hot shower, you knew it was fucked up to be doing what you’re doing. It’s not like it was illegal—you just felt like you were betraying Gemma. You were closer to her than anyone else in the world and you were sneaking around with her brother.

He didn’t make it fair, though. He was so poised and smooth and fucked like he wasn’t still in AP Physics. The way he bantered with not only you but his sister and mother was definitely more witty than most boys his age. It only made sense to let him rearrange your guts.

So you had a bit of an internal dilemma. Frankly, if your little affair is well kept from Gemma, it shouldn’t be a problem at all. So you thought.

***

“So, do you have lice or something?” Gemma asked, raising an eyebrow from behind her magazine. The two of you had finally settled into winter break time and were taking turns spending at each other’s houses. Today, it was girls’ night at the Styles’ home.

You froze, one hand ruthlessly digging in your hair. “What? No. There’s just a wicked knot in my hair and I can’t get it out.” It was in the most unfortunate location on the back of your scalp, and your fingers could make no sense of the mat of hair.

“Do you need some help?” she offered, setting down her literature.

You reared back even though she was sitting at her desk across the room. “Gross, you just painted your nails! No thanks. Besides, I think I’m getting it.”

She shrugged and blew on her soft blue nails. “Whatever. I’m getting a yogurt.”

“I want one too,” you hummed, sliding off her comfortable duvet and gently pulling out a few strands of broken hair. A tiny plopaccompanied your feet on the rug and you spun in confusion. The noise was too soft to be a phone, but you still checked that yours was in your pocket. Barely visible in the fibers of the shag rug rested a solid black metallic ring. It was Harry’s.

You stared at it in horror. The ring had been in your goddamn hair. Earlier that day you’d given Harry a blowjob that left him slack-jawed and pink-cheeked and his hands had been so tangled up in your hair that your hair stole his ring. Which just fell out onto the floor in Gemma’s room.

“Is that Harry’s ring?” she hissed, gaze locking on the ring standing out from the white rug.

Oh no. Oh fuck oh fuck fuck fuck—

“He’s such a twat. Why does he leave his jewelry everywhere? You could’ve stepped on that!” she continued, reaching down to pick it up. “I’m gonna throw it in the trash.”

When she moved to her trash bin, your eyes widened and you squealed a “don’t!” That ring was really nice and you knew Harry would be devastated if she threw it out.

Gemma turned slowly. “Why?”

Your mind raced to think of a good excuse. “Because, if you throw out a ring he wears all the time, he’ll throw out something of yours that youcherish.” You gestured towards her vanity where the Tiffany box sat. She’d just bought herself a necklace for doing so well on her exams and you knew that Harry would retaliate with it.

Your best friend eyed the necklace and then the ring in her fingers. “You’re right,” she finally agreed. You let out a huge breath—there was always the risk of being too weird about Harry and blowing your own cover, but once Gemma ducked into her brother’s room and pinged Harry’s back with the ring, you knew the cover was totally intact.

***

God, you didn’t want to party. The break ended next week and soon it’d be books and schedules and debt again. Who could be shotgunning 4Lokos at a time like this?! Plus, none of the bars were open this day of the week so the only option was a freakin’ house party. What uni students over the age of 21 go to house parties?

But Gemma wanted to, and what she wants, she gets. Though you loved her tenacious attitude at times, all you cared about right now was taking off your revealing top and climbing into bed.

You nursed on straight Coke in the kitchen and absentmindedly watched Gemma go hard. You trusted her and vice versa; she knew her limits but still could have a really, really good time. The men of the party were in awe as she threw back tequila and slapped the bag right after, and even the inside of yourmouth was feeling withered just watching her.

“Hey, there,” you heard from off to the side. You casually lulled your head over to see a shockingly attractive guy. He had thick, dark hair with a sprinkling of light brown freckles on the bridge of his nose.

“Hi. You lost?” you joked, moving to make room on the upholstered bench next to you, where the mystery man joined you.

“Not anymore.” Mm. The faint scent of alcoholic breath wafted to your face but this stranger was keeping his composure quite well. “I’m Russell.”

“Y/N, pleasure,” you hummed, shaking his hand.

He started chatting you up, but to be fair, it was in one ear and out the other. He was clearly throwing words to the wind, and not even his good looks or nice cologne could draw your attention. It wasn’t like Harry, who could entice you with conversations about chopped liver if he so wanted to.

Ahh, Harry. You wondered what he was up to right now. He was probably at a party himself, drinking watery beer and flirting with any bird with eyelash extensions that gave him attention. God, why were you getting so jealous of him? You certainly didn’t owe him any loyalty and neither did he. In fact, if you so desired, you could go out and get laid right now and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it!

Your attention drifted back to the cute boy next to you. Somehow, as Russell droned on about his recent physics prof, you started to see Harry in his features. Certainly not in anything coming out of his mouth, but the curls that flopped down into his face were just like H’s after he’s played footy all day. Russell’s hands had prominent veins on them, just like Harry’s hands when they were grabbing at your skin and smacking your ass. Even the way he toyed with his bottom lip while thinking aloud.

Though H was really the last person you wanted on your mind right now, all these physical thoughts were making Russell more and more attractive by the minute. He wasn’t Harry, but maybe he could be Great Value Harry. You reciprocated his flirty chatter and got touchy with him, and things quickly devolved into kissing in the corner of the kitchen you two occupied.

Things were happening surprisingly fast for how sober you were. You went upstairs with him, you made out with him on a random bed, you undressed each other, and before you knew it he was rolling on a condom and pushing himself into you.

It wasn’t necessarily that it was bad sex. Russell had soft lips that kissed your neck as he thrusted and he certainly wasn’t small, but it didn’t really blow you out of the water. Your toes didn’t curl and your eyes didn’t roll back into your skull. He even lasted a decent amount of time, but once you made your mind up about not getting an O, you kinda just wanted it to end.

Once it did, he got busy falling asleep and you tried to not take it personally (c’mon, it’s pretty taxing for a guy to cum). You tugged your clothes back on and went out to look for Gemma, and of course she was upstairs as well, throwing up into a bathroom trashcan.

“Hey, Gem, how you feel?” you asked, rubbing at her back and tucking your hair behind your ears.

“Better now that this is out of me. Wanna go home?” she mumbled, sighing and wistfully staring at the toilet that she was seconds from making it into.

“Yep. C’mon, I’ll call an Uber,” you said to no one, hoisting a lackadaisical Gemma onto your shoulder and out of the house.

Once home, getting Gemma situated was the most difficult part. Her mother worked late and Harry was probably out, but even without the chance of running into one of her family members, she was still heavy. Her choice to not use her legs at all certainly didn’t do you any favors, either.

When the front door opened and the familiar smell of her abode hit Gemma’s nose, she perked up. It became minimally easier to hoist her up the stairs and into her bed. You did your best to scrub at the makeup that had lasted through her dancing and puking without waking her, but she was so tired and lulled to sleep by her drinks that an earthquake wouldn’t make her stir for at least eight hours. You nodded at the unopened cheap water on her nightstand, reminding yourself to get her a reusable bottle.

Your work was done. Gemma was snoring smoothly within minutes with a clean face and a drink waiting for her in the morning. You got laid, even though you were completely sober, it wasn’t exactly a great dick review, and you’re a 21-year-old who got fucked at a house party. Maybe it was just time to go home and accept the night for… whatever it was. You padded downstairs softly despite the minor coma your best friend was in. Common courtesy, you supposed.

Thump.

Face first into a chest. It was totally dark in the house and you definitely didn’t expect there to be a solid torso in Gemma’s living room for you to bump into. A sharp gasp filled your lungs and the figure reached behind and clicked the lamp on. Harry, of course.

“Jesus Christ, you scared the hell out of me,” you breathed, slapping a hand to your chest.

“It’s my house,” he grumbled. As your eyes adjusted to the light, you saw his puffy eyes and messy hair and wrinkled clothes. He’d been sleeping.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you? I thought you’d be out.” Just seeing him in such a soft state made your lower belly swirl.

He shook his head a bit. “What are y’doing here?”

“Went to a party with Gem. She got too wild so I put her to bed,” you bluntly explained.

Harry pursed his lips, crossing his arms and eyeing you focusedly. “Did you have a good time?”

“No,” you answered quickly, because you didn’t. “I didn’t drink and I had to take care of Gemma and I fucked someone.” That last part fell out of your mouth before you had a chance to think twice.

There were a few beats of a heavy silence and you wondered if you made a mistake. “Did they fuck you good, baby?” he finally asked, no emotion inflecting his words.

You couldn’t have been less prepared for that response. “No,” you whimpered, face getting hot at his critical stare.

“Oh, doll, they couldn’t fuck yeh like I can, huh?” His voice was pure sex—every response he had to you threw you off more than the last. Everything he said just floated off his tongue and danced into the room and onto whosever’s ears they were around.

“No, they couldn’t,” you choked out. You felt like your throat was closing. “No one fucks me like you do and I can’t understand it. I shouldn’t be seeing you because it’s so wrong but...” God, shut up shut up shut up. Your word vomit amused Harry beyond belief. The smug look on his face was making you feel even smaller than his height already did.

“Oh, I know what you’re sayin’, doll,” he laughed. “You wanna do the right thing by m’sister but yeh just can’t. Deep down y’know you’ll always come back to me, hmm?” Harry took a step towards you, and you completely froze. You thought that he was about to bend down and kiss you but he surprised you yet again by snapping a hand up and gripping it around your neck. “I own you, y’hear me?”

You nodded, or at least the best you could with his vice grip on you. Every breath you tried to take stopped short in the back of your throat, and it almost felt like your feet were about to lift off the ground. Your own hands flew up to claw at Harry’s hand before his grip finally softened. A thick gasp sucked in and your legs threatened to not support your body, but he grabbed at you and steadied you. His fingers grazed your quivering lips. “Who’s mouth is this?” he asked, intently staring.

“Yours,” it came out as a whisper. Normally he’d be much meaner and wouldn’t accept such a quiet response, but he was feeling generous, apparently. He leaned down and kissed you, sucking in on your bottom lip and biting the red flesh.

The two of you made your way down to the couch, such that you were straddling Harry and he was cupping at your ass. Your hair kept falling in your faces, but he didn’t care and continued to kiss you and grab at your throat.

He took a break and leaned back on the couch, taking his time to lazily cup at the soft skin behind your thighs. “Mmm, and who’s ass is this?” When you breathed out another “yours” he smacked it audibly. “Goddamn right, pet.”

He didn’t take your shirt off, nor any of his clothes. He lifted you just enough for you to tug your shorts and panties down, and for him to pull his leaking cock out of his dark sweats. You tried to tease for a moment, grinding your bare center against him, but he put a stop to that. “Do I even have t’ask if this is mine?” he growled, assertively cupping your cunt with his big hand. You shook your head and he smirked, guiding his tip up and down your slit.

“Nope, because I know it’s mine,” he whispered, letting you slip his whole length inside your wet pussy. He shoved his hands up the back of your shirt, dragging his nails down the soft skin. Once you’d bottomed out and you were desperately grinding your clit against his pubic bone, he put a hand flat on your chest. “Lean back and ride me, pet.”

You obeyed to the best of your ability. You put your hands behind you on his knees and shifted your weight back, allowing him to fully watch himself disappear into you. The coarse, dark curls at the base of his member lightly stimulated your clit on the downstrokes, making you helplessly whimper while you fucked yourself on him.

“Are yeh sure you fucked someone?” he grunted. “So fuckin’ tight, I just don’t believe it.” His fingers snaked down and played around with your clit, which undoubtedly threw off your bouncing. Your hips begged to stay down and enjoy the circles he was tracing over your button, but he wouldn’t let you. His free hand went to your hip, just above where it bent into your thigh, and guided you to start moving again. “Uh-uh. Keep ridin’ me, love. I know yeh can keep a rhythm, hmm?”

So you kept riding. The pressure of his tip ghosting around your G-spot combined with him stimulating your clit was making it difficult to stay quiet. Sure, Gem was asleep, but she wasn’t dead, and if you made a ridiculous amount of noise, she’d definitely investigate.

“Gonna cum, aren’t yeh?” he asked, and fuck, he was right. That knot was already starting to form in your lower belly.. “I can tell. Yeh gonna let go, all over m’cock? Gonna make a mess fo’ me?”

His words caused you to spill over, and you were no longer able to hold yourself up leaning back. He was very forgiving of this, and let you grab at his shoulders while riding out your high. Once you’d stopped shaking and panting into his neck, he thrusted his hips up into you once, twice, three times and came inside of you with a grunt and some more nail-digging, this time into your thighs.

And then it was silent. You meekly got off of him and shakily pulled your shorts back up. You two quietly redressed, Harry nearly dead from his draining orgasm and you weak in the legs from your sexual workout. The only noise was the scratch of fabric on fabric and your shared heavy breathing. Finally, when you were gathering your things to leave, Harry spoke in his sultry, hoarse voice.

“I like when you come around,” he smiled, and you immediately returned it. It didn’t seem like much, but this was Harry’s way of expressing affection. Regardless of how good he was in bed or how witty and charming he came off, he was still a goofy teenage boy who had trouble talking about his emotions.

A little giggle came out of your nostrils. “Thanks, Haz.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, hmm?” he asked, pinning that unconfident noise at the end despite knowing you’d be back. He was already relaxing, crossing his arms behind his head and lazily eyeing you scramble towards the front door.

“Yeah,” you dreamily affirmed, giving a quick wave to Harry (which he goofily returned) and floating out the front door. “Tomorrow,” you said to the empty street in front of you, toying with your car keys in your hands.

[breesays]

all i want for christmas

It’s weird when you’re a grown up and people still ask you what you want for Christmas. Like, listen—I work hard for the money and then I spend that money on the things I want so I am not often left wanting. Ya dig? Also, I’m not going to be an asshole and ask for anything over $100.

However. I LOVE buying Desmond clothes. Does he grow out of them quickly? Eh. But I DERIVE GREAT JOY out of dressing my human doll every day. The onesies, the rompers, the socks, the bandannas… I’m also kind of grateful I didn’t get many hand me downs. I feel like I’m developing a personal brand for Des. That’s not to say I buy everything NEW—I Poshmark for him way more than myself these days. And I wish there were more secondhand shops for kids—ESPECIALLY when we get cute clothes but they just don’t… look right on him. TRADESIES. So, sorry not sorry my Amazon wish list is just a dream wardrobe for my little. But he is my project now. My art, my investment, my sweet little bean. 

Meanwhile, I’m wearing a paper bag and house slippers. JK. Sort of.   

I also love getting him books. I check everything out from the library for my Kindle now, so my literary habits are frugal. But man I want him to love words as much as I do, so I aspire to build him a great library. I also wouldn’t mind memorizing some of the books, so I can perform them on the fly. Pout Pout Fish, for example.

What I’m saying is I already have what I want, and everything else is icing on the cake. 

If we’re talking about a “put it out in the universe” situation—I would love a bigger place for the same price. Ditto for bigger car for the same price. A house cleaner, because that’s something I’ll never pay for. I would like to build my collection of blankets, but I kind of only want expensive ones now—weighted, or those chunky cable-knit ones. And I’m running out of space to store them, although I think I’m close to fulfilling my dream of being able to build the most comfy indoor fort.

All the things I want require more space so I guess I should just ask the universe for that. Says everyone who has a kid. You kind of don’t realize how much space their EQUIPMENT takes up until you’re running a gauntlet to the bathroom during a BRIEF NAP trying not to break your face by slipping on a Fisher Price maraca.   

So, anyway, all I want for Christmas is clothes and accessories for my real life baby doll. He may only wear the outfits once but if we are CARPE DIEM-ing correctly, once is enough. Check our INSTA. Then they go into storage so I can reflect on their cuteness and tininess in the future. I don’t hand things down, either. 1. I did a lot of research and I haven’t entirely blacklisted the idea of a second child down the line (if we get rich) 2. When it’s your first kid, I feel like you want the experience of buying your own… everything. I did get many items USED but I sought them out. I didn’t want to wait 2 months for a Babyletto mini-crib so, to Facebook market I went.

This is getting long and a tad tangential.   

Since it’s Thanksgiving and not yet Christmas I will say I am thankful for my current place in life. I am thankful for where I am and what I have and who I know so it’s not really necessary to ask for anything more. I know, Christmas is not about necessity. But it is about wonder and magic and imagination and all that… that I want Des to experience. He’s probably too young but YOLO.

[batz]

som cool New(ish) things!!!

raggedy ann dress up doll from the late 60s/70s, got it for $2! rainbow brite doll i got for abt $4 i guess,, shes in wonderful condition despite not having the original dress! ancient disney napkin rings,,, 1960s fisher price chatter telephone (still works!),,, 60s minnie doll in original packaging,,, 3 spongebob keychains frm like 2010ish, not vintage but they're weird and vibrate so they are mine now!!!

[halogensleep]

pour your gasoline on me (let’s torch the whole world down) ch. 3

AN: put this song on repeat with the volume kinda low if you really wanna live the dream

“I have a job for you. One that you won’t like, but one that I need your expertise on.” The phone call from Laszlo wasn’t even started with any pretense.

“I’m in business with the Collective presently… you know how they feel about side jobs.” Charlotte sighed and rubbed her temple. “Give me two weeks then I’ll be back on the market.”

“I don’t have two weeks, Queen.” She heard Laszlo grumble and scratch his chin. “However I do have a blank cheque in front of me and two Filipino senators who need to… how do you say… bite the dirt?”

“Bite the dust?” Charlotte scoffed and plonked herself down on the hood of her car.

“Mhm, that.”

“Well you called the right woman.”

The vantage point from where she had parked was vast and beautiful. The sun was setting over the treeline in the distance, and the clouds became candyfloss pink because of it. Charlotte leaned back and sighed in contentment with the view. Then, she became decidedly intrigued by the job Laszlo was offering.

“So why is it you need me, specifically?” She tucked the phone between her chin and shoulder, freeing up her hands so they could pat down her pockets for a loose cigarette, a rare pleasure these days. “Can’t you just… I don’t know… call a local service? The Philippines sounds like a big road trip.” She put the cigarette in her mouth and clicked the lighter.

“Some of my shipping routes pass through the ports in their districts. The cunts took money under the table on the understanding that they would leave my business dealings alone, but, well, election season has come back around.” Laszlo chuckled loudly, his laughter transforming into a deep, throaty cough. “Apparently the Gooks are going straight now. It’s a problem, a billion dollar problem—”

“Laszlo you’re saying a lot of racist shit that I don’t have time to wade through right.” The bridge of her nose was pinched, the cigarette puffed a little harder in exasperation. “I don’t care why it is you want them dead I just want to know why it is you need me…”

“They have the Duterte death squads backing them.” Laszlo sighed, and Charlotte imagined his sweaty, greasy knuckles swiping down his bowling shirt, then reaching round to rub the back of his bulbous neck in consideration of his problem. “There isn’t a contractor in the entire Philippines stupid enough to take the job.”

“I’ll try not to be offended that my name was the first one that came to mind then.” She tapped the ash on her cigarette.

“You fly in, you kill them and plant a little evidence, you fly home. As far as Duterte is concerned the senators were involved in a bad business deal with the Chinese cartels. It will be like we did him a favour,” Laszlo said, as if were the easiest feat in the world. “I need someone I can trust, I need you.”

“Do you know what I need?” Charlotte blew a cloud of smoke and thought about it seriously. “I need two million dollars, a plot of land so I can free up some space in my refrigerator, and three anti-aircraft rocket-propelled grenades. Yep, mhm, that’s what I need.” She nodded decisively and stubbed her cigarette out.

There was a scoff and some laughter on the other end of the phone. “One million dollars. I’ll give you two rocket grenades but it will take me a few weeks to get them, and as for the land? My brother looks after the construction unions… we can figure something out…”

“Two weeks.”

“You leave in four days, I want you there by Wednesday.”

“You’re breaking my balls, Laszlo,” Charlotte warned sternly. “I’ll leave Friday, I’ll be back Sunday morning. I want the million up front, I want to fly first class, I want you to book me into a presidential suite, and I want enough chilled Dom Perignon to put Carrie Fisher down. Do you understand me, Laszlo? Am I being crystal clear?”

“Fine, fine!” He bristled and sighed. “What name should I put the reservation under?”

Charlotte paused and smiled.

“Put it under Becky Lynch.”

…

The presidential suite was precisely that. It was sleek, stately almost, the walls were embossed with gold leaf detailing and the furnishings were exquisitely carved from cherry wood. It made a nice change from rustiness of the chop shop. Charlotte sunk deeper into the abundant bubbles and traced her finger over the edge of the copper bathtub. The tub was sat proudly on a white marble platform in the center of the bathroom, and she had wrinkled in the hot water for at least an hour while polishing off a bottle of Dom between thumbing the pages of her newest case. A luxurious day in the office by anyone’s standards.

Rosamie Aquina and Emmanuel Bautista-Cembrano, those were the two senators she was tasked with killing. Their security detail would present more than a problem if the intel she had collated was anything to go by. Laszlo wasn’t wrong when he said the Duterte death squads were out in full force to protect the senators. She turned the images over one by one and saw the face of one man in particular always caught in the background, General José Roberto Ocampo, otherwise known affectionately as The Boogeyman. He was the man tasked with keeping them alive on the road to the elections. It helped that he had a penchant for hard liquor and loose women, Charlotte knew so long as she created a decoy for The Boogeyman and his soldiers with those two distractions she could finish off the senators and be on a flight out of here by Sunday morning.

The phone rang.

“Hello?” Charlotte put the call on loudspeaker and sunk back down into the searing water.

“Oh she’s a killer queen! Gunpowder, gelatine! Dynamite with a laser-beam! Guaranteed to blow your mind!” An abundantly cheerful voice singsonged down the phone. “Bow, bow bow bow!” she hummed the bassy guitar solo.

Charlotte sighed. “Are you finished—”

“Ooooh, recommended at the price, insatiable an appetite!” The singing voice cracked with the attempt at a high note. “Extraordinarily nice, she’s a killer queeeen!!”

Charlotte paused for a moment, her lips twitching in annoyance. “Are you done—”

“To avoid complications she never kept the same address, in conversation she spoke just like a baroness!” The Irishwoman sung out of tune. “Met a man from China, I nearly stabbed her in the vagina, she pulled a gun to shoot me, didn’t think she could do it to me but she’s just that way inclined!”

“Those aren’t the lyrics and you know that.” Charlotte sighed and rubbed her brow, exasperated and deeply out of her element with the insane woman singing down the phone to her. “What do you want, Becky?”

“Can’t I just call my girlfriend to say hello?”

“I’m not your girlfriend.”

“Ah, pish! Of course you’re my girlfriend!” Becky sounded offended. “We had dinner, we slept together, I tried to stab you while you were asleep and you fired a warning shot near my very lovely and unscathed face… which you surely can’t still have your panties in a twist about? You’ve gave me the cold shoulder for a month now!”

Charlotte looked up at the ceiling and made the water splash with her frustrated, fidgety movements. “I’m not your girlfriend, Becky,” she lowered her tone.

“Well, alright.” Becky sadly sighed. “Does this mean you don’t want the gift I sent up to your room?”

“What gift might that be exactly?”

There was an abrupt knock to the door of the hotel suite.

“That one.” She could tell Becky was smirking on the end of the phone. “Do you like surprises, Charlotte?”

“Actually, no.” Charlotte grumbled and clambered out of the bathtub. “I hate them.”

“Even when they’re from your girlfriend?”

“You’re not my girlfriend.”

“I stole an industrial fridge for you.”

“You’re still not my girlfriend.”

“Rude of you,” Becky scoffed.

“Mhm,” Charlotte ignored her and trudged through the large suite towards the door. “What am I going to find on the other side of this door exactly?”

“Something you should probably take the safety catch off your gun for.”

“Bold of you to assume I ever have the safety on.”

If she anticipated anything, it was Becky standing out in the hall in lacy black lingerie underneath a trenchcoat and a small knife in hand for good measure, if only because Becky always had that damn knife glinting in her fist and she was feeling hopefully optimistic that lingerie would be involved too. The thought made Charlotte smile as she padded through the long marbled hallway, which in turn made her furrow into a frown because the thought of Becky randomly showing up was supposed to be instantaneously infuriating and in no way capable of earning a small smile. It was a problem for the next psychiatrist, Charlotte told herself and put it away.

The door was knocked again, far more impatiently this time.

Becky sighed on the phone. “I wouldn’t keep whoever it is waiting—”

“Goodbye, Becky.” Charlotte hung up before Becky could taunt her anymore.

The hotel robe was tightened around her damp muscles and the sash was loosely knotted at her waist. She opened the door and became instantly surprised, though she made sure not to show it in the slightest. The man in front of her was most definitely not Becky Lynch. He tucked his cap underneath the armpit of his tunic dress jacket and worked his jaw muscles from side to side, slightly irritated. Charlotte bit the inside of her bottom lip so hard it drew blood to the surface.

“Don’t ever make me knock the door twice,” General Ocampo growled and stormed past her, shoving his dress cap into her arms.

Charlotte stalled, entirely out of her element and slightly embarrassed because of it. Two of Ocampo’s men stood guard in the hotel hallway and closed the door behind their boss. She breathed a small sigh of relief. If they were aware of who she was, or, rather, what she was, then they certainly wouldn’t have sealed Ocampo in what was now for all intents and purposes the most expensive slaughterhouse this side of the horizon.

“Hang these up neatly,” Ocampo dolled out the orders with a light foreign accent and began unbuttoning his dress jacket. “I paid for four hours and that’s what I expect, not a minute more and not a minute…” He stopped and looked at the uncorked champagne on the dining room table, his eyes widening. “Did your madame never teach you it’s rude to drink without your guest? Prostitutes, no manners!” His eyebrow craned with pure disgust.

“Apologies,” Charlotte said meekly and dipped her head to hide her gritted teeth, the cogs turning and chewing against one another in her mind as she tried to piece this together. “I thought you might like to have a glass waiting for you… I wasn’t prepared for you to be so prompt.” She played along to save her skin.

“You weren’t?” He seemed offset by the statement.

“My mistake. Busy important men like you? Well, they tend to run late.” Charlotte lifted her head and made the best out of an unexpected situation. She deduced from Ocampo’s pomp and self-importance that a sense of vulnerability and weakness might do the trick, and so she went with that. “You’re… well… you’re actually my first client…”

“Stop talking.” Ocampo instructed and turned his back to her, filling the champagne flutes on the table with the uncorked Dom Perignon. “We are what we are, there’s no need for pretense or illusion. I am a man. You are a woman. I am a man with few female acquaintances. You are a prostitute. And so we must be the creatures we are in candor, crave the things we crave without shame.” Ocampo turned back around and offered a half glass of champagne. “Here, drink.” He nodded down to the flute with a weak nod.

Her gun and professional accoutrements were left by the bed still in the package Laszlo sent ahead. It presented two problems, first and foremost, the man she would inevitably have to kill in order to kill the people she was paid to kill was standing in front of her under the assumption she was a prostitute… and she was without the tools to kill him quickly and silently. The second problem, which was essentially the root cause of the first problem, was that she expected Becky to be on the other side of the door which was why she didn’t bother to get the gun in the first place. It was stupid. It was beyond stupid. It was stupid for a number of reasons, the first being that had it of been Becky, she would have been in more immediate need of a gun than she was presently.

Charlotte sipped the champagne and remained the perfect picture of calm, because she was calm. This was a puzzle at best, a brain teaser with higher stakes. Becky had sent this man here for a reason after all.

“Please, sit down,” Ocampo said, gesturing to the suave living room.

“Most men go straight for the bedroom?” Charlotte nodded down the hall.

Ocampo smiled slightly. “I paid for four hours,” he said, turning on his feet to lead the way to the sofa. “And I will tell you when it’s time to move to the bedroom.” A stern look was shot over his shoulder.

Charlotte stared at the man unbuttoning his collar, who somehow managed to be a problem that needed to be eradicated and a clue to a puzzle she wasn’t sure merited solving, though she didn’t have time to make any immediate decisions. Instead, she blinked and followed him to the living room.

“Well then, how exactly would you like to fill the next four hours?” Charlotte pretended to be intrigued.

They sat down on the sofa and Ocampo paused, he looked at her strangely. The low ambient light from the golden fixtures highlighted the sheen of sweat across his brow. He looked out of his element, nervous maybe. The sudden flitting of his eyes showed a deep sense of submission. It was stark in contrast from the first assessment she made of his character. Charlotte felt as though there was something missing, a piece of context that she hadn’t quite deduced yet. Ocampo rubbed his knee and swallowed hard, looking around for a moment.

It was as if he was embarrassed.

It was as if something wasn’t going to plan.

Charlotte placed her champagne flute on the coffee table and leaned across towards him. She placed a hand on the top of his knee, her fingers brushing against the tips of his own. Ocampo instinctively pulled his hand away. Bingo, Charlotte realised. There was a pretext to this that she was still unaware of, one that Ocampo wanted her to be aware of and was growing all the more frustrated because she wasn’t. She thought it might be a kink or fetish of some sort...

A roleplay, it dawned.

“Just so we’re crystal clear…” Charlotte licked her lips and thought of how to phrase it. “I need to know what your limits are for the scene… descriptively and specifically.” She leaned in with a small smile, and he became a man out of his element just like that, his stern exterior dissolving into something weak and tacit.

“No bruises.” Ocampo breathed heavily and swallowed in embarrassment. “Our shared contact said you were a skilled dominatrix… that the role of a seductive hitwoman was your speciality and you would only be in Manilla for a few days. I had to meet with you.” He stared at her with a languid look in his eyes, and his voice barely hovered above an embarrassed whisper. “I want you to pretend you were hired to kill me. I thought we could pretend that you’re using the disguise of a prostitute as your cover?”

“Excuse me?”

“Is that not—”

“Stop.” Charlotte lifted her hand and screwed her expression. “A prostitute?”

“Well.” Ocampo became nervous. “If you have a better idea…”

Like that she was rigid and perfectly herself, overwhelmed and underwhelmed, simultaneously. She wasn’t sure if this was a puzzle or a game, a thing to be solved or a thing to toy with for no reason beyond the simple pleasure of finding a new way to kill someone. She hung there for a moment, blinking slowly and certain that this situation was, surprisingly, a gift from the Irishwoman in both name and intent.

Charlotte smiled and sat back, rigid and domineering, existing as herself in truth and candor, wanting the things she wanted without shame. Though, shame was probably the wrong word altogether because she had never really experienced anything close to shame before. Instead, she wanted the things she wanted with a profound sense of consent because Ocampo wanted them too, or at least he thought he did, which opened up a thousand possibilities that had never been there before.

“I am a hitwoman who has been sent to kill you,” Charlotte exhaled the weighty confession. “Well, not you specifically. I was sent to kill the people you protect by the people they pissed off. It’s a complicated situation… most hit jobs are…” She wiggled her eyebrows with a faint sense of amusement. “You’ll forgive me for describing you as ‘collateral damage’ when I get home.”

There’s a moment, when people realise they are well and truly fucked, on the praecipe of death, where their eyes narrow as if their soul is slipping and retreating inwards, trying with all it’s might to protect itself and hide from the oncoming slaughter. Instead, Ocampo’s eyes widened and pearled with arousal. It was unusual, but not entirely disappointing.

“You haven’t tied me up.” Ocampo became unsure of himself, as if he wanted to suggest bondage but was too embarrassed to do so. “I could run… or shout for my men… I could attack you!” He glared and didn’t mean it in the slightest, Charlotte could already tell.

“You won’t do that.” Charlotte glanced to the ceiling and rubbed her hands. “The woman you think is our shared contact? Well, she’s a hitwoman too. It’s a long story, I wouldn’t go as far to describe us as friends. I mean, she once tied me up in a warehouse and nearly stabbed me to death to steal a job…” Her blonde hair was pulled back to reveal a small deep scar on the side of her neck. “It was a hell of a day at the office.” The memory earned a faint smile. “Still, the point I’m trying to make is that if she hasn’t already killed the men standing outside of this room then she’s probably on her way to kill the people you protect — which means I’m about to lose my fee and Duterte will make your death a hell of a lot more painful than I intend to.” She lifted her flute and took a sip of champagne. “I would recommend you don’t divert the path you’re already on, Ocampo.” The glass was placed back down with a satisfied sigh.

Beyond the marble and regality of the suite, there was no noise, not the slightest of sounds, just overwhelming silence. It was exhilarating. It was thrumming with possibility, and for all Charlotte knew perhaps Becky had already killed the men outside, or perhaps she was already on her way to finish the job and undercut the deal with Laszlo and all of this was just a rouse in the meantime to keep her preoccupied. It was infuriating, it was exciting, it was enough to plant the tiniest seed of giddiness in Charlotte’s gut. Ocampo seemed giddy too, his breathing steeped in arousal and excitement, though for entirely different reasons.

“Your bondage is psychological,” Ocampo whispered and nodded. “You’re so convincing,” it was exhaled, impressed and full of arousal.

“You said no bruises,” Charlotte shrugged. “So, how about we jump to the part where you tell me where the senators are staying and in return I won’t gouge your eyes out with my thumbs?” She didn’t so much as blink.

“Is that how you killed the last man who displeased you, Queen?” His dark eyes glimmered with excitement.

Charlotte sighed and became impatient. “No,” she said with a rub against the back of her neck. “The last man I killed was a psychiatrist who thought I had a school girl crush on the hitwoman I was telling you about before… he thought it meant I wasn’t a psychopath.” There was a deep exhale, and then her eyebrows lifted. “I shot him between the eyes and made it look like he was having an affair with his secretary and things turned bitter. Last I heard, she’s doing time at Rikers Island.”

“So you’re a lesbian psychopath assassin?” She watched his trousers tent.

“Wow, you really chose the operative adjectives there.” Charlotte shook her head with faint disapproval. She blinked, thinking about it for a moment with a furrow of her brow. “I wouldn’t say I’m a lesbian. I wouldn’t say I’m anything. People are aesthetically pleasing but god, are they boring.” She closed her eyes. “Well, everyone except…” The sentence trailed and never finished.

“Except who?” Ocampo leaned forward with hope for a satisfying answer.

“Are you expecting me to say you?”

“I’ve paid a lot of money.”

“Of course you did.” Charlotte nodded and realised she wouldn’t earn a dime of what was now in Becky’s back pocket. “Tell me, do you enjoy what you do? The killing? The violence? The finality of it?” She leaned forward with the flute stem rolling between her fingertips.

He pulled back a bit and sat up, stiffened and offset, as if he wasn’t expecting just how far this roleplay would depend on the crux of their deepest personal truths. He swallowed and rubbed his chin, thinking and considering his answer, and on some level Charlotte appreciated both the frankness and absurdity of this unfurling situation. Ocampo reached for the glass of champagne on the coffee table and took a sip himself.

“I enjoy being powerful, who doesn’t?” Ocampo forced a small smile and placed it back down.

She saw through the charade like a knife slicing through butter. There was a heavy sense of guilt that Ocampo was hiding but just not well enough. It repulsed her, offended her almost, it was the same feeling that brewed within her during the war years, which were now a faint and nearly long-forgotten memory. There were a few men she served with who joined specifically for the license to kill another human being, and then when they finally did, they came home changed for all the wrong reasons. The sense of power lasted only for a little while, the exhilaration of it, the hero complex, and then after a period of time all that remained was the burden of guilt, the regret of playing God.

Charlotte didn’t see the act of killing that way. To take a life, to snuff it out and watch it fade, it was like listening to a symphony that could only ever be played once. It was awe striking. It was profound. To kill someone wasn’t to be powerful, to kill someone was to submit to a power far greater than herself, and maybe it was because she understood that wholeheartedly that she was so damn good at her job.

General Ocampo sat there quietly for a moment, his thick black eyebrows knitting together as if something was troubling him, he exhaled and became slightly more resolute. “This story, the one of you and the hitwoman you like...” He turned and peered at her, eyes narrowed with absolute intrigue. “How does it end?”

Charlotte didn’t have an answer.

…

When the front door creaked open, when the sound of heels clicked through the marble hallway, she already knew it was her. The hotel suite was silent and in the process of being cleaned with a forensic eye for detail. Charlotte scrubbed the blood spatter off the floor of the bedroom on her hands and knees, teeth gritted and brow sweating, entirely without the time for anymore games.

“Been busy?” Becky leaned her hip against the door frame and folded her arms, smirk widening with abundant amusement.

She looked up from the bedroom floor and moved her hair out of the way. “A dominatrix?” She threw the cloth down in exasperation, looked at the ceiling, at the headboard, then finally at the grinning troublemaker she was actively trying not to kill.

Her hair flowed down her shoulders like liquid copper, shiny, waved, curving its way along the outskirts the black bustier beneath her open beige trenchcoat. She was wearing high-waisted jeans that hugged her hips and tight stomach in the best ways possible, although it was slightly demystifying, Charlotte would have preferred the bustier and nothing else. Becky was however wearing red lipstick and false eyelashes, accoutrements that Charlotte had never seen her dabble with before, and she had no complaints about it.

“Well.” The Irishwoman lifted her brows. “In hindsight, I rather enjoyed that craic at the chop shop… after my burns healed, obviously.” She dusted her fingertips over the chest of drawers and stepped further inside the room on the click of her heels. “You certainly know how to make a girl feel important.” There was a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

“Why show up now? You disappear for two months and pop up in the Philippines for what exactly? To steal my job again?” Charlotte chewed.

“How did you kill him?” There was no decisive answer to the question put to her, just a short nod toward the corpse wrapped in bed sheets and linen, her pointer finger suddenly lifting in the air. “Or better yet, did you have fun killing him?” Becky tilted her head to one side.

Charlotte got up off her knees and wiped the skin that was pinkened from the pressure. “He was jacking off with his eyes closed and so I counted down from ten…” Becky’s eyes widened with surprise. “I shot him when I got to two.”

“Cruel.”

“Hilarious.”

“Hilariously cruel.” Becky genuinely giggled and plonked herself down on the chaise lounge. “Swanky room by the way, I see Laszlo likes to keep you sweet.” She nodded in approval.

“I imagine he does. I know where he lives, after all.”

“Do you know where I live?”

“In the worst case scenario of everything I ever do.”

“Well now.” The half empty champagne flute was lifted from the table beside the chaise lounge and examined slightly. “Sounds like that place comes with a hell of a view, I’ll take it.” The troublemaker looked her way with those cold, mischievous, brown eyes.

“The guards outside?”

“Their bodies are playing a very tight game of Twister in the cleaning cupboard.”

“And the senators?” Charlotte was ready to leap for her gun if it wasn’t the right answer.

“Another date, perhaps?” Becky sucked her lips between her teeth for a moment. “I don’t usually play well with others but I thought it might be fun to tag along… I would hate for anything to happen to my beautiful, delicate, fragile, little—”

“I will fist you in the asshole with a knife in my hand.” Charlotte glowered and pulled the hotel robe around herself tighter. “There’s a room service cart in the living room, go and put him in the cleaning cupboard while I get dressed.” She nodded to the corpse and walked to the bathroom.

Lungs pushing, teeth gritted, pulse quickening, she closed the bathroom door and listened to the sound of a woman in the bedroom following orders. Charlotte closed her eyes, and for all her pretense, perhaps this was exactly what she wanted to happen, perhaps everything was going to plan. She had put Becky’s name on the reservation after all… but the trouble was that she absolutely knew Becky was here on other business. People like them, psychopaths, the unafflicted, they didn’t just jump on sixteen hour flights for romps and romances, this was most definitely a business trip.

It was merely a question of what business it was and how it intersected with her own.

…

The last time Becky had worked with another contractor, well, it ended with one more death than originally anticipated. When she had said she didn’t play well with others, it was absolutely the truth. There was something about this life that was profoundly lonely, and all the more perfect because of that reason. The troublemaker enjoyed her own company. It was a pleasure that was becoming more complicated and conditional on a moment to moment basis, because being here, with her, watching her work the way she worked, it was like seeing in colour for the very first time.

The Irishwoman wasn’t sure she would ever be able to go back to the way things once were.

“Hey, Nicole Kidman…” Charlotte’s voice was detached and cool, her demeanor slightly playful, her hand barely stifling the screaming mouth of the woman squirming and kicking underneath her. “Can you turn that on for me?” She nodded to the curling iron next to the mirror.

“My god, I adore you,” Becky whispered the confession with blinding, confusing, profound honesty. “What setting does her Majesty care for?” She plugged it in and watched through the mirror’s reflection as Mrs Aquina, in her pristine pink skirt suit, her laddered stockings, her red painted nails clawing at the Big One’s biceps, kicked and squealed a little louder.

“Do you think loose wave will do the trick?” Charlotte lifted a museful eyebrow.

“Why take a chance?”

“Pin curl?”

“Much better.” Becky agreed and dialled up the heat. “What are we doing about the old man?” She nodded to the barely breathing body sprawled over the shattered coffee table.

“Do you know much about the Triad?”

“Worked for them once or twice, sure.” Becky nodded.

“Make it look like this came from them.” Charlotte pressed her weight harder on the screaming woman’s mouth. “The evidence in the briefcase will only go so far, I don’t want there to be any doubt about who ordered this…”

For a moment, Becky hung there, contemplating how to make her work as impressive as possible. It was astounding how quickly the urge to please the Queen crept up on her, how deeply she felt the need to be admired for her creativity. She drummed her fingers on the desk and pushed forward, her steps toward the dying man filled with consideration.

None of her considerations were reserved for the dying man, not a single one. She was already quite decided that a carved triangle over his slowing heart would be more than enough to do the trick. As the saying goes, sometimes less really is more.

When she finished the task and looked over her shoulder at Charlotte again, it was in her eyes, the calmness, the languidness, the serenity, as if she were reading poetry, as if the yawping woman with scalded red marks seared into her cheeks was the final page of a book she was utterly engrossed in. Becky would remember the wild one like that forever, she smiled slightly, and her considerations only grew deeper on how exactly to make the real reason she came here fit for a Queen.

When the senator stopped screaming, when a bullet was finally fired between the eyes, the muscular creature stilled and hung there, blood spattered across her face and blonde mane, eyes completely blank, a satisfied smile creeping up her cheeks, and Becky hoped for it to never end. The beasts of Wicklow were alive and well while Charlotte still breathed, and so was the little scrawny girl who cried at the thought of them falling down.

It wasn’t a frightening realisation, not anymore, two months had been spent mulling over the conundrum, and now it was merely a problem that needed solving.

“Charlotte?” Becky cleared her throat.

Two narrowed blue eyes found her, inhuman and predatory, cold and calculating, shining with exhilaration. Charlotte clambered off of the body and stood straight, and she said nothing, just stood there and waited expectantly.

“My god, you’re beautiful.” Becky shook her head slightly, awestruck and unconcerned with hiding the fact. “I think you might be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.” It was a confession she needed acknowledging, a truth that needed to be heard.

“I hate how much I don’t hate you.” Charlotte closed her eyes, and her voice rasped in a way that made Becky’s stomach feel ticklish and weak. “This is the most fun I’ve had in…” She opened her eyes again, and she saw a gun barrel staring back at her.

“You don’t look surprised?” Becky whispered.

It made Charlotte laugh. “I’m many things, but surprised isn’t one of them.” She pouted, slightly.

“Disappointed?” Becky became troubled.

That wild woman, that fucking maddening, perfect, wonderful woman, blood spatter still wet on her cheeks, she stood there and smiled with a small shake of her head. “Rebecca Kelly,” she smiled as she said her name. “You could never disappoint me.” Her stare grew in intensity.

Becky nodded and took a small amount of comfort in it.

“You know how the Collective feels about side jobs, Charlotte.” Becky shrugged slightly and pulled the safety off her gun. “They offered me a lot of money…”

“I’m glad it’s you here, you know that right?” Charlotte smiled and looked away for a moment. “I never wanted you to end, not really, I don’t think.”

For the first time in twenty five years, Becky felt tears roll down her cheeks, and god, it was humiliating. The fact Charlotte couldn’t stop staring, shocked and confused, only made it worse.

“Do you think I’m an evil person?” Becky blinked away her tears.

“Yes.” The wild one laughed, and her mouth slackened into a grin. “You’re the biggest cunt I know, I promise.”

“Thank you,” Becky exhaled a relieved, flattered noise. “I needed to hear that, thank you.”

“Do you mind if I have a last scotch before we do this?” Charlotte nodded hopefully at the decanter on the side table. “Now that I’m thinking about it, a cigarette would be good too.” She patted herself down for the gold tin.

“Smoking is terrible for your health,” Becky sighed and rolled her head as the Queen reached for her back pocket. “Honestly, Charlotte, it drastically lowers your life span—” A movement caught her eye, an arm pulling back, and she was on her back a second later, a pain shooting through the middle of her chest.

Becky snapped her eyes open and spluttered, when she looked to the source of the pain, a knife was stuck inside of her to the hilt. She laughed so loud it shook the room, she laughed, and she laughed, and she laughed until the copper penny taste of blood was coating her mouth. A shadow landed over her eyes, and she reached for the gun a few centimetres away, but a foot stepped firmly on her wrist and held it there.

“Hey you, it’s okay,” Charlotte whispered and crouched down, and her long warm fingers brushed the hair out of the troublemaker’s eyes. “It could have been either of us. Today I was the better woman, tomorrow it could have been you.” Her voice was soft and reassuring, tentative and unsure of itself.

Becky nodded and laughed again, blood dribbling over her lips, her chest driving up and plummeting back down against the searing pain of the wedged knife, she nodded to the gun, eyes fluttering.

“I. I. I.” Becky caught a breath and was struggling to find another. “I need you to pick it up.”

“And ruin your pretty face?” Charlotte frowned softly.

Becky weakly smiled at the compliment.

“Well, if you’re sure.” Charlotte picked the gun up without examining it too closely. “I want you to know...” She stopped and sighed. “Well. Maybe some mysteries are worth keeping, right?” Her smile was genuine and sad, simultaneously.

The barrel was pointed and the trigger pulled, and Becky couldn’t help but laugh again, she laughed even though it was noiseless, she laughed even though it was quickening her death, she laughed and she didn’t care that it was absurd. Charlotte looked horrified and confused, her eyes darting between the giggler and the tiny white flag that had erupted out of the end of the pistol.

“Be mine?” Charlotte choked out the words that had been scrawled on the tiny rectangular flag. “Be fucking mine?!” It was growled with disbelief.

“I turned down the job.” Becky swallowed, eyes fluttering. “I. I. I thought.” She lost her nerve as pressure was applied to her wound, Charlotte let go for just a moment to search for something to stem the bleeding. “I thought we could stop trying to kill each other, I wanted to make it official.” She coughed slightly.

“You stupid bitch.” Charlotte hissed and tried her hardest to mitigate the damage. “You stupid, idiotic, crazy fucking bitch—”

“Hey,” Becky whispered, her mouth tasting blood, her tongue impossibly dry. She placed her fingers over the hand applying pressure to her gut. “Would you have said yes?” It was exhaled hopefully.

“No.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” Charlotte insisted and became deeply stuck in her thoughts as her shoulders leaned forward to apply more pressure. “I… I like you Becky.” She chewed and exhaled through her nostrils. “I like you and it isn’t easy.”

There was a knock to the door.

“Go.” Becky weakly nodded to the balcony. “Twenty feet, you can ice your sprained ankle when you get somewhere safe.” She pushed a reluctant Charlotte toward the open balcony doors.

“I can’t let them take you alive, Becky, you know too much.” Charlotte became conflicted, her eyes darting between the front door and the dying woman on the floor.

“We both know you won’t kill me.” She managed a tiny last laugh, and her eyes fluttered closed. “Run. You have to run. You run until you’re far away. If I survive this, I suggest you never stop running.”

“I don’t think you’re going to.”

“Then still always lightly jog, because you never know.”

“Becky…”

“Just go,” Becky’s voice became tiny and quiet.

“Alright.” The door banged so loud that it jumped and wobbled in the frame. “If you survive this… come and find me again. You, you come and find me again, Becky Lynch.” That wondrous woman made a break for it.

“Get a jog on, little girl blue.” Becky pursed her lips and smiled.

[elizabethplaid]

daily notes - oct 9, 2018

This week is continuing the recent sleepy theme, to the point that dad suggested we postpone our birthday shopping trip til next week. (Our birthdays are like a week apart.) I’m praying I can gather enough energy for friends-giving this Saturday, because there was a cute guy there who didn’t seem completely weirded out when I mentioned Mike the Headless Chicken. So that’s like... someone worth talking to. Otherwise, I’ve basically sat in a corner and knit when it came to socializing.

And to prep for friends-giving, I set aside the big yardages of fabric for Neighbor-S. All that polar fleece, some yards of cotton prints, a gauze-y plaid mom promised to sew into a peasant shirt for me... in 2000. Also started getting specific about what I’d send to @queenofsquids, to the point of taking photos... but I’m too tired to edit them now, so bleh.

It’s a struggle to sort through some of this fabric, especially things that mom had made things for me with. There were scraps from a doll-sized dress I tried to make, using extra fabric from my 8th grade graduation dress - which was a Regency-style gown. Then there was the pink short-pile plush mom sewed into blankets for my Fisher Price dollhouses - the ones I gave to Neighbor-S’s children this summer.

But I came across the prom skirt fabric again, and it sort of crushes me every time I fret about using up the scraps or not. Specifically, whether I should “save” the fabric to sew something myself, or if I should ask for help with the sewing. Maybe it’s the “asking for help” that crushes me a little, more than the memories.

Anyway, I used my brief bit of energy to set aside fabric and a couple things, took some photos, then felt too tired to edit and share photos. Still a good day.

[themarionetteanovel]

Chapter Six - Haunted

All the way on the bus ride to campus, the sight of that marionette frustrated Claire. How could a wooden puppet look so much like her late fiancé? It had barely a round nub of a nose, while Dave’s had been sharp and straight. As was Adam’s, for that matter. Dave had nearly always worn blue jeans and a black or grey t-shirt, it was practically a uniform for him, but half the men on this bus were dressed like that. Dave’s eyes had been brownish blue. She couldn’t remember what colour eyes the puppet had, or if they’d been coloured in at all.

Then there was the way it’d popped upright for a split second. As a child she’d had a toy some aunt or grandparent had bought for her while on a trip to Europe. A Bakelite deer with similarly jointed legs, that stood on a circular dais. Underneath was a large button that made the deer move up or down.

That was exactly how that marionette had moved; she was positive she’d seen no strings coming from above. At the time she’d been too startled to look more closely.

On Thursday she would, she promised herself.

Assuming it was still there.

All through her first lecture of the day it kept niggling at her. While the TA droned about narrative techniques in William Faulkner’s As I Lay Dying, her mind kept veering back to that window display like a car with faulty alignment. Were the red velvet sofa and chair still there, or that cuckoo clock? She couldn’t remember. Dozens of times she’d looked at the xylophone, since she’d played with the Fisher Price version as a toddler, and never once had she noticed a marionette or doll anywhere near it. Certainly not one resembling Dave.

And what had happened to his flask? She should go look for it in that storage locker already.

Never mind the storage locker, she should ask Jordan about it. Dave would’ve had it with him if they were drinking together and he could have left it behind. Jordan, who skipped Dave’s memorial and never returned her calls, texts, or emails. She’d never liked him. She dreaded having to go to his place to confront him in person, but what choice did she have?

“Are you okay, Claire?”

Claire blinked rapidly, shook her head, and gazed around the food court. She’d been so lost in thought that she’d forgotten where she was for a moment. She barely remembered leaving the lecture hall. Adam set down trays of Greek-style chicken kebabs, salad, and rice for them.

“You looked like you were on another planet just now.”

“I was.” She forced a giggle and pocketed the change he’d left on her tray. They alternated who would pay for their meals and she always guarded a seat while he waited for their food to be ready.

Guilt descended on her like a thick fog. She felt as if by even noticing a puppet that looked like her late fiancé, she was betraying her new boyfriend. Or maybe by trying to move on with her life, she was betraying her love of old. She and Dave had planned to get married as soon as the graduated, have a baby, and build their future together. Until death do us part.

“I have to go back to the office afterwards. The IT director installed the software for this new security system himself for some dumb reason. I have to figure out where exactly he screwed up in order to fix it.”

“Uh, huh.” She’d do a thorough search of her apartment first. The flask could be in that box of Dave’s personal effects the cops had given her. His wallet and all of his cards had been in there, along with his phone. She hadn’t had the heart to see if his class ring had turned up. And she never did get around to returning his key to their landlord. She probably should.

She felt robotic throughout their entire meal, nodding absently as they made plans for later that evening. “I was thinking tonight after class we could go grab a slice of pizza at Gianni’s and then head on to the Broken Cue.”

“Yeah, sounds great.” All she could think about was getting back to that store, looking in the window to see if that marionette was still there, and if she could see any strings connecting any of its joints to the ceiling above. And find out who had put it there.

[newtothewaywardparty]

The Ghost of an Idea 3

Read Stave One: Bobby’s Ghost, Part 1

Read Stave Two: Bobby’s Ghost, Part 2

Stave Two: The First of the Three Spirits, Part 1

When Dean awoke, it was so dark he couldn’t make out the rickety TV stand in the ratty motel room. He blindly fumbled on the nightstand for his phone and checked the time, his eyes squinting against the blue glare of the screen.

To his astonishment, it read 11:58 p.m. Dean had passed out around two in the morning. He swiped his screen to wake it up, checking the date next to the time. Had he actually passed out and slept all the way through the day and into the next night? No, the date still read December 24.

Dean stumbled out of bed and groped his way to the window, pulling aside the curtains, upsetting a cloud of dust that rained cigarette ash smell into the room, clouding his vision and making him cough. When the fine powder settled, Dean almost shrieked. Jo Harvelle stood just outside the window.

She stood still as a statue, unblinking yet unmenacing. Her hair was long and golden, carefully arranged in gentle waves. Mindless of the cold, she wore not her usual hunter’s jeans but rather a long, white sundress, the kind Dean knew chicks sometimes wore to outdoor music festivals. The dress was cinched with a southwestern-style silver concho belt, studded with turquoise. Her well-worn shit-kickers completed the ensemble, Dean noted with a small smile. You could take the girl out of hunting, but you couldn’t take the hunter out of the girl.

The weirdest part was, she seemed to glow from the inside out with a strange light, making her appear both younger and older than when Dean had known her at the Roadhouse and, later, on hunts together. The light emanated strongest from her head, which was just weird. Dean held his arm up like a visor to protect his hungover eyes as he tried to see which version (childlike or ancient) she really was, but it made him dizzy and sick. He was going to blame the sherry.

Dean pulled the window open. Let’s kick this in the ass, he thought. “So you’re Bobby’s first messenger?” he asked.

“That’s right, sweetheart” Jo replied, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’m the Ghost of Christmas Past.” She spread her arms wide. She always had a flair for the dramatic, Dean reflected.

“Can you maybe-” Dean waved his other hand to indicate her head, shining like a beacon in the dark parking lot.

“Fine,” she sighed, producing a straw cowgirl hat with a colored beaded band from somewhere and placing it on her head. The light dampened considerably so that Dean could look at her through narrowed eyelids. “But it’s not my fault you can’t look at it.” She pouted a bit, and looked every bit the young woman she had been all those years ago at the Roadhouse in Nebraska. Dean shook that memory away, trying to clear his head.

“Uh,” Dean began. Articulate as always. “So what’s the game plan, here?” The frigid air was beginning to make him shiver, even fully dressed as he had fallen asleep. He grabbed his own arms to stop his shivering.

Jo gave him a lopsided smile. “C’mon Dean. I know you like to pretend to be dumber than a post, but I know you’ve at least seen Scrooged.”

Dean shrugged noncomittally. He was a huge Bill Murray fan. Of course he had seen it, but he wasn’t going to give anything up easily. He was even more reluctant to admit he had seen A Muppet Christmas Carol back at the bunker with Cas. They had sat together on Dean’s bed, comfortable with beer and Funyuns. Dean’s heart clenched as he remembered fielding Cas’ questions. “How can a Pig and a Frog be romantically attracted to each other? How do they reproduce? This movie is extremely scientifically inaccurate, Dean.”

“Let’s go, Dean” Jo said, now seeming older again, confident and immune to Dean’s bullshit, holding out her hand through the window. “We’re burning time here.”

Dean took her hand, a little unsure how she expected him to scramble through the windowsill, high above the ancient radiator. Once they touched, though, he found himself floating, perfectly warm, through the air with her, flying above the Western Kansas countryside. The highway stretched out below them, and Dean could see wind turbines like a field of white sunflowers, their red air safety lights blinking at the top. It was like looking down onto a field of twinkling red Christmas lights.

“I can’t believe you Superman’d me!” Dean shouted over the rushing wind. He couldn’t help grinning widely as they soared over the Flint Hills, the lack of moonlight making their rolling curves seem sharper and deeper.

Jo laughed, a childish bubbling sound. “Can You Read My Mind?” She intoned in mock-serious tones.

Dean rolled his eyes. “You’re no Lois Lane, Joanna Beth.” He glanced down to see Mount Oread speeding toward them, the red-tiled roofs of the limestone University buildings visible even in the gloom. “Hey, this is Lawrence!” he exclaimed in recognition. “I grew up near here,” he said, even as they glided over his old elementary school, the playground where he had first learned to swing, pumping his little legs forward and back. It felt like flying. Dean experienced an unfamiliar physical sensation, one which he was unaccustomed to feeling, except on rare occasions of peace with Sam, and of course whenever he and Cas shared companionable moments, like when they had worked that case in Dodge City. He felt light in a way that had nothing to do with the magic of soaring through the air with Jo.

Jo steered them lower until they almost hit the roofs of the houses on the suburban block. “Do you know where you are?” She asked.

“Yeah,” Dean nodded. “Sam and I actually worked a case here about ten years back.” He blinked and somehow they were in the living room. He would have been more panicked but time travel had kind of becoming routine for him. Nevertheless, he was still amazed, taking in all the detail his memory had forgotten over the years. An afghan of multicolored granny squares adorned the avocado green and harvest gold plaid couch. A modest tree, draped with tinsel, stood by the window. Dean’s eyes fell to the carnage of empty boxes and wrapping paper under it.

“Oh wow! My Big Wheel!” He ran a hand over the red, yellow, and blue tricycle. “I totally forgot about this! And my G.I. Joe, man, he was so cool.” Dean picked up the action figure (no, it was totally not a doll, thankyouverymuch) and made shooting noises with its little gun. He turned, dropping it, as his eyes widened. “Oh, whoah, I totally remember this-” He started toward the object of his attention when he was interrupted by a man walking into the room.

He wore wide-leg light-wash jeans cinched with a brown belt with a large buckle. His western-style plaid shirt was tight with pearlescent buttons. His hair was shaggy (almost as long as Sam’s now), his face clean-shaven, but Dean would know him anywhere.

“Dad?” Dean breathed. His chest hitched. His Dad did not acknowledge them in any way. Jo placed a reassuring hand on Dean’s arm.

“They can’t hear or see us” she said, a too-kind expression on her face.

“Dean! Get in here, son. I found what I was looking for” John Winchester called. For the first time, Dean noticed the cardboard album cover in John’s hands. A small boy, little more than a toddler, careened into the living room, rushing into his dad’s arms with a squeal. He had a blonde bowl haircut, chunky cheeks, and brown corduroy jeans. Dean flinched, instinctively guarding against John’s reaction. His father only gathered the boy up in a bear hug and roared.

“All right, little monster,” John said, after setting young Dean down on the braided rug. “I want to show you how to use this new tool.” Dean’s mouth fell open as the man indicated the toy adult Dean had been wanting to get his hands on, an orange plastic Fisher-Price record player in its own portable case, designed for young hands.

With patience Dean had never seen John Winchester use anytime in his conscious memory, his father explained, step-by-step to his child self how to carefully place the vinyl on the turntable, turn it on, and place the needle. The album in use was John Denver’s Poems, Prayers, & Promises. After completing his explanation, John kindly coached young Dean through the steps himself, praising the child when he did something correctly, and gently correcting him when he forgot the order of steps or was too rough. Preschool Dean beamed, eyes gleaming, when “Sunshine on my Shoulders” began playing from the player’s tiny speakers. John patted him on the shoulder, silently approving.

“Boys!” came a voice from the kitchen. “Supper’s almost ready.” Dean’s mother appeared at the doorway, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. Mary’s skin was flushed from the heat of cooking. She was lovely and warm, just as Dean remembered. “Go get washed up now” she said, in a not-at-all-stern tone, putting her hands on her hips, her belly heavy with Sam, who would be born in the spring. Dean drank her in greedily. This was Christmas 1982. Dean was just three years old. This was his last Christmas with his mom. Their last Christmas as a family. Before…

Jo interrupted him. “What’s that on your cheek, Dean?”

Dean sniffed “Sweat. It’s too damn hot in here.” Jo pretended not to see him discreetly swipe at his eyes with the back of a sleeve. He resumed watching as his small family gathered around the oak table piled high with ham, mashed potatoes, stuffing, and of course, his mom’s homemade apple pie. Little Dean sat in a green molded plastic booster, eating enthusiastically with his Bert and Ernie and Big Bird silverware, his parents chatting happily on either side. Dean shook his head. “Poor kid,” he uttered under his breath.

“What’s wrong?” asked Jo. She raised an eyebrow knowingly.

“I just…” Dean struggled to find the words. I barely remember this, but at least I had it once. Sam never had it all, even though I tried my best. Now it’s Jack’s first Christmas, and…” he shrugged, stuffing his hand in his pockets. “I just wish I had maybe stuck around; shown him a good one. Like this.”

Jo smiled thoughtfully and waved her hand. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand” she said brightly, and suddenly they were in a different living room. Dean recognized the tan velour couch instantly. This was Sonny’s farmhouse, the boy’s home where he had spent a couple of months in 1995 after he had gotten nabbed for stealing food for Sam. Teen-aged him sat on the couch, sucking face with Robin.

Dean whirled on Jo. “What the hell? This wasn’t even at Christmas!”

“Your history didn’t leave a plethora of choices. We had to make do with what we had.” Jo shot back, defensively.

“We?” inquired Dean.

Jo gave him a sharp smile. “When Bobby Singer calls, I answer.” She shrugged. “Plus, I’m not gonna pass up the chance to work one last case with a Winchester.” She winked at him, then nudged his arm. “Shhh, or you’ll miss it.”

They turned back to the teenagers making out on the couch. They were discussing the upcoming school dance. “I’m not going anywhere, Robin.” Grown-up Dean winced at those words. He knew how much he meant them at the time. How quickly he’d forget them once John showed up with Sam in tow. Sam would come first, before anything else, for a long time after that.

“She was your first love.” Jo said, a soft look on her face. Dean’s face didn’t leave young Robin. He nodded.

“You never loved anyone like this again.” stated Jo. She looked older now, tired and sad.

Dean whipped his head toward her. “I have so!” he retorted.

“Not like this,” said Jo. “Not in that whole, pure, unguarded way.” The scene around them shifted. Sixteen-year-old Dean was tying his tie over that dorky short-sleeved dress shirt, and Sonny was telling him his father was here to take him away.

“This was the moment, Dean.” Jo said, voice low and deliberate. “The moment you discovered giving your heart to someone could mean getting it broken.” Dean’s tracked his young self helplessly as he went to the window, looking out at John and Sam. Followed the boy, he was just a kid, as he shook hands, brave face through tears with Sonny. Jo continued: “You always held yourself back after this. Cassie, Lisa, anyone else; you never really let them in.”

Dean grit his teeth and whirled on Jo. “Good talk, Russ. Next stop?” Jo touched his hand and they stood on the shore of a lake Dean had never wanted to see again in his life or any other. He barely had time to draw a breath before his eyes landed on Cas, blade sticking through his check, blue light escaping his mouth and eyes. Shit.

Read Stave Two: The First of the Three Spirits, Part 2

[ladyfenring]

Plz indulge me and write Murray babysitting Holly

“I hate to ask,” Karen said apologetically. “But would you mind watching Holly? I don’t know when Nancy’s getting back.”

“Of course,” Murray said. “We’ll be fine, go take care of Mike.”

She sighed in relief and helped Mike out to the car. He’d slipped on the ice and had done something funny to his ankle. Karen wanted X-rays, but she didn’t want to take Holly.

Murray didn’t mind. Of Karen’s three children, he got along with Holly the best. Nancy was furious that he was seeing her mother, and while Mike wasn’t necessarily upset, it was clearly weird for him to know his mom was having sex. Holly didn’t seem to care who Murray was or where he’d come from—she only knew that he would play games with her and bought her a My Little Pony, and that made him just fine in her books.

“Well, Holly,” he said, because he had learned that little kids liked it when you spoke to them like adults. “What shall we do?”

Holly looked up from where she was brushing out her My Little Pony’s silky mane. Or, it had once been silky, but now it was a sad and frizzy mess after she’d taken a bath with it. “I want…a tea party,” she said rather dramatically.

“Okay. Let’s have a tea party.”

The table in Holly’s room was already set up. She played tea party a lot. There were dolls sitting in the tiny chairs, and Murray sat cross-legged in the empty space between them. Holly picked up a pink plastic Fisher Price teapot and held it over his pink plastic Fisher Price teacup. She did this for all of her dolls. “You’re not dressed up,” she pointed out.

“No I am not.”

“Do you want to wear my necklace?”

“No, thank you.”

“Okay.” Holly decided to wear the necklace herself, as well as her plastic tiara. “Sometimes I just like dressing up.”

Murray suspected she had heard that from her mother, but he didn’t say anything. He drank his pretend tea with gusto and politely accepted an imaginary cookie.

“Mommy won’t let me bring real cookies up here,” she said sadly. “Because of ants.”

“That’s very wise,” he said. “Ants are hard to get rid of.”

Holly considered this. “One time an ant bit me.”

“A thrilling saga.”

“What?”

“It means ‘that’s an interesting story’.”

“Oh. Can we watch Strawberry Shortcake now?”

“Not if it’s the same video you watch on an endless loop.”

“What?”

“It means let’s watch something else.”

“He-Man and Skeletor.”

“…okay.”

[thecradlerocks]

Best Toys and Gift Ideas for 1-Year-Old Girls

Buying the best toys and gift ideas for 1-year-old girls could be quite difficult because you want it not to be only unique but also safe and helpful in their development. Kids love toys and gifts, and though, they might forget your name, but they can’t ever forget what you buy for them! That is why we've picked and reviewed the top 28 best toys and gift ideas for 1-year old girls in this article, hoping that it will help you in making the choice to choose the best toys and gifts for your cute little one.

Top 28 Best Toys and Gift Ideas for 1-Year-Old-Girls 2020.

1. Fisher-Price Laugh & Learn My Pretty Learning Purse

Fisher-Price Laugh & Learn My Pretty Learning Purse View On Amazon Why we like it: The baby is introduced to early learning of ABC’s, numbers, colors, opposites and manners and it also helps build her imagination. The pretty female child will finally start feeling sort of a lady. Carrying her stylish colorful purse around will make her look even prettier. The straps are of the proper size to suit the baby’s height and shoulders. This fun play toy has various accessories that will help the baby in learning alphabets, numeric, colors and also the way to act sort of a lady. The purse features a handle and a zipper that activates sounds and songs once opened/closed. Also, everything fits within the purse perfectly and that they also can add a couple of more toys and celebrate imitating mummy or playing pretend. the color is additionally very girly and therefore the design is pretty and sturdy. Pros Attractive colors to suit the baby girl. Have fun accessories to form the small one-act and desire a woman. Good quality. Sizeable straps.Cons Speaks English only.Buy On Amazon Now 2. Corolle Mon Premier Calin Charming Pastel Baby Doll

Corolle Mon Premier Calin Charming Pastel Baby Doll View On Amazon Why we like it: It’s a light-weight doll, thus easy for your baby to hold around. it's also very real and therefore the baby will celebrate playing pretend. You will love the look on your baby’s face as she cuddles, hugs and snuggles this soft beanbag filled doll. This doll is about 12 inches tall, and scent like vanilla with a smooth face and is dressed in pink and white color and a matching little hat. Your baby will definitely love this doll because it appears so real and also naps; this is due to her miracle eyes that open when she sits and shut when she lays down. As such, it'd make it easy for you to convince your baby to require naps by just laying their doll down. Her hair also can be combed because it's been densely rooted, so again they will make their dolls hair as you create theirs, thus a win-win for everybody. Also, if you’re preparing your baby to be an enormous sister, get them this doll. It’s so realistic and it'll make things easier. Pros Looks so real. She is adorable and super durable. Easy to wash. Very pretty.Cons Doesn’t speak.Buy On Amazon Now 3. Fisher-Price Brilliant Basics Rock-a-Stack

Fisher-Price Brilliant Basics Rock-a-Stack View On Amazon Why we like it: Babies are little explorers and this may be an excellent addition to their toys. It also introduces them to the idea of sizing and stacking at a very young age. Your baby will discover this game by collecting, shaking, categorizing and stacking five different rings. The rings are available in different sizes and colors and are stacked on the swing base of the toy. From the most important moment to the smallest stacking, the child also learns the concept of size The topmost and smallest ring has rattling beads and a shiny reflective surface. to assist your baby to develop good balance and coordination, place the rings faraway and in several directions and see how the small one will make an attempt trying to succeed in bent them. And with the features explained, it is also chosen among the top 25 best toys and gift ideas for 1-year-old girls. Pros Good for bath time play. Rattles and perfectly sized. It’s a visible stimulant for babies. Super easy to wash.Cons Only the red ring rattles.Buy On Amazon Now 4. Fisher-Price Laugh & Learn Magical Musical Mirror

Fisher-Price Laugh & Learn Magical Musical Mirror View On Amazon Why we like it: this is often a tremendous toy which will help baby explore, discover, develop confidence and may be a wonderful play fun toy. He takes care of a curious child, trains his body and creates enthusiastic characters. Finally, the little princess will begin her fascinating sessions with this magical music mirror. Keep various accessories. Playing with mummy, lipstick, comb, bracelet and soft puff bracelet has never been this much fun. The child also knows how to identify numbers, colors, and alphabets, and to distinguish textures. There are 15 melodies, songs and sentences that are activated when the charter is opened/closed. And, when the baby involves the top of learning and play, the accessories are neatly packed back to the vanity. It’s very pretty and of high-quality, so if your little miss is showing interest in mirrors or if they wish to imitate you as you set your structure on, this magical musical mirror is definitely a must for her. Pros The baby is introduced to numeric, alphabets, colours and textures early. 100% safe to play with. Encourage budding personalities. Baby and mom have a bonding play time. Learns to doll up using the various accessories that accompany the toy. Cons Not so big but an ideal size for the small one. A bit pricey but worthwhile .Buy On Amazon Now 5. LeapFrog Learn & Groove music table

LeapFrog Learn & Groove music table View On Amazon Why We Love It: This is an amazing toy that babies can use to train their memories, develop their motor skills and stimulate visual and auditory senses. It is also very colorful to grab their attention and entertain in general. This is an interesting toy that your baby will really love. It includes close to different 40 melodies and 15 activities to keep the child entertained and busy for hours. The baby explores these different activities by rolling, rotating, typing, and sliding the various buttons and buttons to get different songs and melodies. If you are looking for ways to introduce small numbers, alphabets, and shapes, this is the perfect toy. It also contains a variety of bright colors, so they start to dominate. It is very durable and versatile, so the baby will not get bored quickly. And it comes with ready-to-use temporary batteries. Pros Has legs that can be worn when standing up. Do various activities so that the baby does not get bored easily. 100% safe for babies. Bright color Fixed with two volume settings.Cons Sings in both English and Spanish, but the music mode is similar.Buy On AMazon Now 6. Playskool Discover N 'Grow Busy Top Popper

Playskool Discover N 'Grow Busy Top Popper View On Amazon Why we love it: A toy that can be easily moved with a full groove to make learning and playing interesting. It contains different colors and songs and your child will be busy hitting the ball for a long time. This fun toy features 5 colorful balls that rotate, roll and fall from the ramp. When the button is pressed, the balls pop up and return to the driveway with live music and fun sounds just to cheer up the game. If one of the balls falls, you will love how this baby has eye-tracking and motor skills work to get it back. It's the perfect toy to help your baby develop eye-hand coordination, motor skills, cause-effect concept while staying very active. It is also a musical toy with 8 live songs for more fun. The overall quality is durable and the design is safe for the little ones. Suitable for children from 9 months old and above. And with this, it is chosen among the top 25 best toys and gift ideas for 1-year-old girls. Pros Comes with 5 balls. Has a volume switch for loud and low noise. Help baby practice motor skills and visual senses. Durable and affordable.Cons Batteries are not included.Buy On Amazon Now 7. Melissa & Doug Classic ABC Wooden Block Cart Educational Toy With 30 Solid Wood Blocks

Melissa & Doug Classic ABC Wooden Block Cart Educational Toy With 30 Solid Wood Blocks View On Amazon Why we love it: A durable and simple toy that the baby will enjoy playing and learning with. This colorful wooden trolley, with a pull-out cord, has 30 blocks where babies can learn the alphabet, numbers, pictures, and colors. Your baby will enjoy stacking, sorting and assembling large blocks of small ones. The development of motor skills and research is also applied here. The toy is durable and also safe for babies. Also, it is lightweight and therefore easy to carry around. It is also best not to have to find a storage bag to store all the blocks after they are finished playing with it. Just put it back in the storage cart that comes with it and keep. Pros There are wheels and cord for smooth movement. Durable. 100% safe Cons Small, but is the right size for young children. Buy On Amazon Now 8. Melissa & Doug Sunny Patch Finney Fish Ball

Melissa & Doug Sunny Patch Finney Fish Ball View On Amazon Why we love it: It has a blue ocean color showing the theme of outdoor or beach games. This classic rubber ball has a blue background and is decorated with green and orange fish. It is an ideal game where you play outside and learn a game. This stunning colorful ball improves your general motor skills, social skills, and great outdoor games. Pros It's lightweight and easy to play. Little child is able to develop motor and social skills. Perfect size for little hands of kids.ConsHas a small size, but it's perfect for baby.Buy On Amazon Now 9. Playz 5pc Kids Playhouse Jungle Gym with Pop Up Tents, Tunnels, and Basketball Pit

Playz 5pc Kids Playhouse Jungle Gym with Pop Up Tents, Tunnels, and Basketball Pit View On Amazon Why we love it: A great toy for any occasion that keeps the little ones busy for hours. This adventurous 5 piece tent is the biggest outdoor toy for the little ones. It has interchangeable parts that you can customize to create the best combination. It includes a 5-hole hole, a ball reel for 200-1000 balls, a basketball ring, and a breathable and flexible mesh tunnel. Specially developed ground anchor rings protect the tent on windy days. Pros It opens and closes in one second. It has a zipper pocket for easy storage. Has different colours.Pets Can also play in themConsIt is only good for outdoors.Buy On Amazon Now 10. Musical Dancing Penguin Toy

Musical Dancing Penguin Toy View On Amazon Why we love it: An ideal toy that babies can use to learn their cognitive and coordination skills. This colorful bump and go Dancing Penguin is the perfect and best toys and gift ideas for 1-year-old girls. It acts moving around and playing music or telling stories. Children will be entertained with the story mode, that is, it'll tell different stories, music mode also plays different types of music while dancing, and learning mode, that is, you'll be asked to touch certain parts and follow the instructions. When the penguin moves and hits an obstacle, it automatically changes direction. Pros Colorful toys. Made of safe ABS plastic .Comes with spare batteryConsComes in small size, but it is perfect for your cute little one.Buy On Amazon Now 11. Amy & Benton Piano Keyboard For Kids

Amy & Benton Piano Keyboard For Kids View On AMazon Why we love it: A music set to train the musical abilities and talents of the baby. This is the ultimate toy for your little musician. These 24 multifunctional dolls help increase self-confidence, increase brain development, improve music-theoretical perception, improve hearing and improve eye-hand coordination. There is a record and play button that the little one can use to learns and correct their mistakes. Pros A 24 multi-functional toy that has various tasks. Entertaining.Elegant.ConsHas a small size.Buy On Amazon Now 12. Wooden Pull Along Toy Set Of 3- Beautiful Giraffe

Wooden Pull Along Toy Set Of 3- Beautiful Giraffe View On Amazon Why we love it: Little ones are introduced to nature early. And also how to deal with pets. These 3 sets of wooden toys put together, consist of an elephant, a giraffe, and a zebra. Young children will like strolling in and out with their new pets. An early introduction to nature and the wild for the little ones. It also helps hand-eye coordination, improves balance, and helps babies learn to walk early. The baby learns wild animals, their colors and body parts. ProsPortable.Perfect for both outdoors and indoors.Durable.ConsMay hurt the baby if thrown.Buy On Amazon Now 13. Amy & Benton Kids Birthday Cake Toy with Counting Candles & Music

Amy & Benton Kids Birthday Cake Toy with Counting Candles & Music View On Amazon Why we love it: A sure way to improve your motor skills, pretend to be playful and count the little one. Birthday parties are a sure way to appreciate the little children in our lives. With this little toy, your toddler will have a birthday party every day. Different keys/buttons perform different tasks, eg. sing birthday songs, light candles and even ask the little one to make a wish. Pros Help the baby develop imaginary senses. Create perfect bond time for mom and child.Has colorful lights that inspire the kids. ConsHas a small size.Buy On Amazon Now 14. Radio Flyer 4-in-1 Stroll ‘N Trike

Radio Flyer 4-in-1 Stroll ‘N Trike View On Amazon Why we love it: It's a great product for the little one to grow with. As they grow up, different features are also dropped.. This 4-in1 trike will make mummy and me strolling time more enjoyable as the baby grows with it. The trikes include infant trike, steering wheel, learning to drive and the classic trike. Each of these functions can adequately meet the needs of the baby and enable children to learn and enjoy every moment. it has a piece of 3-point safety equipment with a high back seat to ensure child safety, a removable safety tray that has a cup-holder and an adjustable seat. An adjustable handle for the adult to steer while strolling, a UV-protection removable canopy and pedals are other features. In the early years of young children, pedals act as a footrest. Pros It is very durable. It improve the baby's visual senses.Provides a great connection time for babies and mothers while walking.Cons It is a little bit difficult to assemble but you can read through the manuals. The tires are made of plastic, but are not inflated. Buy On Amazon Now 15. Discover & Play Piano Musical Toy

Discover & Play Piano Musical Toy View On Amazon Why we love it: This colorful toy helps young children improve their listening skills, support language development and improve their visual skills. Music is one of the languages that young and old people appreciate. This little piano introduces babies to instruments, animals, and numbers. The baby touches softly designed keys and has fun in instrument mode with great sounds of drum, violin or horn sounds. While animal the mode produces sounds from animals such as meow, woof or quack, the number mode introduces numbers from 1 to 5 in English, Spanish and French. ProsIt is portable.Has easy-to-touch soft keys.Great volume control.Comes with free battery.ConsKeys are not separate.Buy On Amazon Now 16. Lamaze Fifi The Firefly

Lamaze Fifi The Firefly View On Amazon Why we love: This toy has a clip that you can use to attach it to baby's diaper bag, baby strollers or the baby carriers. Lamaze Fifi The Firefly is an incredible hug and cuddle toy for the little one. It has several features in its layered wings. A baby mirror to admire and discover their face, focus, and track images. It also has clicking rings to awake the baby's auditory senses, a squeaker that connects the baby's hearing, a knotted chewing antennae and a ladybug teether to soothe the baby's gums. It has a colorful soft tummy and a black and white pattern on the back that helps the baby to stay focused. Pros Very portable. Awaken children's hearing and focus,Has a teether that soothes baby's gums.Cons Rings may fall-off when pulled by older children.Buy On Amazon Now 17. Fisher-Price Laugh & Learn Learning Kitchen Event Center

Fisher-Price Laugh & Learn Learning Kitchen Event Center View On Amazon Why we love it: Thanks to this toy, the girl will begin to acquire feminine qualities and values. This kitchen, which teaches and plays in English and Spanish, is an ideal toy for the little ones to develop their imagination and listening skills. It is a fun toy and engages the baby for hours from stirring the soup to making sure the food cooked in the oven is cooked well. There is a song that will entertain the little one when opening / closing the refrigerator. Warm-up time is filled with music with more than 20 rhymes, sound, light and 4 modes of play. And since it's a two-sided toy, the baby will be able to explore it. Pros Improve the baby's imagination and listening skills. Speaks both English and Spanish.Perfectly safe for the little childrenCons It easily easily tip over when baby tries to use it as a support to stand up, but it is very durable.Buy On Amazon Now 18. Fisher-Price Brilliant Basics Stroll-Along Walker

Fisher-Price Brilliant Basics Stroll-Along Walker View On Amazon Why we love it: No need to worry if the baby comes to the stage when they make their first steps when the stroll along walker has got your back. This beautiful stroller offers support and helps when the small one takes her first step. Music is played at every step or when the portable device is pressed on the belly. Their hands will be busy as there is a spinner, a roller band, and a flipbook. The stroller helps babies develop their motor skills, play early roles and protect them. It has a large, stable base, an easy to grasp handle, so you don't have to worry when the baby is busy. The stroller is also large, so the baby is generous enough to go for a walk with a friend. Pros A well-built stroll-along walker . Easy to install. Very stable and durable. cute Cons It doesn't come with a doll.Wheels can't be locked.Buy On Amazon Now 19. VTech Baby’s Light-Up Laptop, Pink

VTech Baby’s Light-Up Laptop, Pink View On Amzon Why We Love It: This durable baby's light-up laptop will help keep your baby off your own computer, develop their motor skills and help them learn numbers, letters, shapes and more. Finally, the little one will have her own laptop to play and learn. The baby's laptop has 9 buttons, out of which 6 are of different shapes and colors to teach the baby alphabets, shapes, colors, English and Spanish. In addition to learning, there is entertainment; This mini laptop has 3 key piano. A LED display screen, volume control for quieter play, and a small mouse are among the functions that will spice up their playing time. This makes it worthy to be among the top 25 best toys and gift ideas for 1-year-old girls. ProsAn educative toy for the young one.Has a volume control switch.Has a handle for carrying.It looks very cute.ConsThe piano has just 3 keys.More features should be added.Buy On Amazon Now 20. VTech Spin and Learn Color Flashlight – Pink – Online Exclusive

VTech Spin and Learn Color Flashlight – Pink – Online Exclusive View On Amazon Why we love: When using this flashlight toy, the little one will use it in the dark thanks to the flashing lights. It is also long-lasting and fun. This early learning flash-light contains exciting songs, colors, and music that teaches the baby about numbers, animals and colors. The flashlight combined more than 50 songs, sounds, music, and phrases. The beautiful ladybug activates the sounds and ensures that the baby's attention is fully captured. There are five rainbow changing colors that are not too light or too dark for the baby's vision to improve. The flashlight uses batteries and turns off automatically if not used for at least 45 seconds. It also has volume control for quieter playing time. It is easy to pack so that the baby can take it with them anywhere they want to go. ProsVery portable and educative.Has beautiful bright colors. Automatically shuts off when not in use .It also has a volume control for quieter playingCons There's no way to turn off the sound and just have the light only.Buy On Amazon Now 21. VTech Sit-to-Stand Learning Walker, Pink

VTech Sit-to-Stand Learning Walker, Pink View On Amazon Why we love it: A student learning to walk and a teaching aid. This step-by-step walker is suitable for babies between 9 months and 3 years. It is equipped with adjustable wheels that can move on hard surfaces, including the mat, to accommodate the first baby steps. It includes features like a pretend telephone, to help develop the imagination of the little baby, 5 piano keys to encourage creativity and produce musical notes. With about 70 sing-along songs, rotating rollers, shape sorters and light buttons, sound effects and expressions, the little one is guaranteed to not only train but also develop motor skills and learning. ProsMade of quality material.Has an extra baterry.Stable.Has a removable panel.ConsMusic plays continously.May tip over if baby leans on it too much.Buy On Amazon Now 22. Green Toys Dump Truck for Improving Gross Motor & Fine Motor Skills

Green Toys Dump Truck for Improving Gross Motor & Fine Motor Skills View On Amazon Why we love it: It's the perfect toy to develop the little one's gross car and fine motor skills. A nice and educational toy. This dumper is made of recycled plastic and does not contain BPA palate, outer coating or PVC, which makes it safe for the little ones. The girl child learns the hauling sand techniques to develop her motor skills and fine skills. She will learn the dumping technique by practicing through her imaginary skills. The tires are threaded together so that this dump truck can easily withstand any terrain. With a deep and large body, this damper can carry a heavy load and move back and forth during loading. It is suitable for both indoor and outdoor use and is very easy to wash. Pros Easy to wash - it can even be put in the dishwasher. Very portable.Rust-free.It doesn't has any metal axels.ConsIt is not as big as it appears in the display picture.Buy On Amazon Now 23. Step2 Whisper Ride II Ride-On Push Car, Pink

Step2 Whisper Ride II Ride-On Push Car, Pink View On Amazon Why we love it: It's a fun toy to revive the imagination of the little ones. This super child's pusher is designed to imitate an automotive. It consists of a seat belt, a horn, two baby car cup-holders for the little one, and the mummy when strolling and needs to hydrate or have some snacks. If the little one needs to carry its little treasure, there is plenty of storage space on the car's bonnet to look after it. It has a simple folding handle for adults to improve folding for storage and transportation. This makes it worthy to be among the top 25 best toys and gift ideas for 1-year-old girls. Pros Stylish design. Easily foldable handle for easy transport and storage. Learning and playing toys at the same time.ConsSmall cup-holders.Buy On Amazon Now 24. B. toys – One Two Squeeze Baby Blocks – Educational Baby with Numbers, Shapes, Animals & Textures

B. toys – One Two Squeeze Baby Blocks – Educational Baby with Numbers, Shapes, Animals & Textures View On Amazon Why we love it: It comes with a beautiful reusable bag and is completely unique. Blocks are suitable for various activities. Great for toddlers and babies. These are BPA-free super soft blocks, so the little ones can gnaw, pinch or stay on their own without disturbing the parents. The nice thing about these blocks is that little ones stack them to form a wall and later kick it down while having their fun. There are ten blocks, each with different images, to entertain and educate the little kids. And since it has attractive colors, it will really interest them and keep them busy for hours. The baby also learns the colors, numbers and hand-eye coordination. When the game time is over, the blocks are neatly placed back in the reusable bag. And this also makes it worthy to be among the top 25 best toys and gift ideas for 1-year-old girls. Pros Super soft and BPA free.Very educativeHas high resistantCons When it is new it has a strong smell, but it disappears after unpacking. Buy On Amazon Now 25. LeapFrog Shapes And Sharing Picnic Basket

LeapFrog Shapes And Sharing Picnic Basket View On Amazon Why we love: Increase your baby's creativity, sharing and social skills. An ideal picnic basket for little ones to discover, introduce, listen and learn while having fun. This popcorn picnic basket contains 6 pieces, 2 plates, 2 forks, 2 glasses, 1 blanket, and a basket and 14 pieces. The baby will be able to develop imaginative skills, discover colors and shapes, have fun with songs and develop motor skills. There are many activities and if the baby is sleeping, sleeping, sorting and emptying the cart, it will be busy for hours. This makes it worthy to be among the top 25 best toys and gift ideas for 1-year-old girls. ProsIt encourages sharing. Very eductaive. A perfect toy to boost the baby's creativity.ConsThis might not be fun and so boring for older kids.Buy On Amazon Now 26. Fisher-Price Laugh & Learn Smart Stages Chair

Fisher-Price Laugh & Learn Smart Stages Chair View On Amazon Why we love it: With its automatic smart levels and palm function, it offers a great learning experience to kids of all ages. Each child grows at his own pace. With this magical smart chair, parents can choose the most suitable stage for the baby. Just slide the button or enter the child's age, it will be activated automatically. The little one can learn the right songs, phrases, and sounds. Music is activated while the child is sitting in the chair. Press the light remote control for more information on numbers, colors, and shapes. There are surprises when the cushion is raised. The smart stage chair has several levels: 12 m + first words and very curious sounds. Level 2: 18m + has simple questions and instructions. Level 3: 24m + creative entertainment and games. ProsVery educative. Learning contents varies according to the age of each child. Easy to install. Value for money, not expensive.ConsAvailable in one colour only. The manual doesn't provide much guide so it's up to the adult/child to figure it out.Buy On Amazon Now 27. Baby Einstein Take Along Tunes Musical Toy

Baby Einstein Take Along Tunes Musical Toy View On Amazon Why we love: The baby is in control; she chooses music to entertain her. Finally, the baby has her own MP3 player, and she can choose the playlist she wants to hear. With 7 different pieces of classical music from masterpieces like Mozart, Vivaldi, Chopin, and Rossini, the baby can change the genre by pressing the change button. There are dance lights that appear on the screen, which makes it more enjoyable. It is a light take-away toy with a simple grip so you can enjoy baby music anywhere. Also, it helps to stimulate the child's visual perception and auditory development. There is also a volume control for quieter playing. ProsThe toy has a perfect volume control button. It helps to develop the child's visual and auditory sense. Entertains the child. Perfect sizes for the little one.ConsThe songs are short, but they are all enjoyable.Buy On AMazon Now 28. Fisher-Price Laugh & Learn Say Please Tea Set

Fisher-Price Laugh & Learn Say Please Tea Set View On Amazon Now Why we love it: The little ones learn more when they feel at home. If you combine these familiar objects for them as toys, they will learn a lot. The little one will now start organizing her tea parties, where she can connect with her family, friends or favorite doll. As soon as the tea port is opened, greetings begin and some silly songs go with it. The teapot also makes a sound of pouring tea on the cups when the teapot is bent. Pressing the tea bags brings more fun and expressions like "please" and "thank you" which your child will also learn. This tea set includes 2 cups, 3 teatime teeth-able cookies, that come in different shapes like triangular, square and round shape, which perfectly fit the serving tray and the teapot. The baby learns about numbers, manners, shapes, music, imagination ideas, and greetings. It also improves their social skills and sharing concepts. ProsThe toy teaches the child how to share. It also build the child's imagination. Very educative. Teaches the child the problem-solving skills.ConsBatteries are not included.Buy ON Amazon Now Best Toys and Gift Ideas for 1-Year-Old Girls Verdict The best toys and gift ideas for 1-year-old girls listed above have been done in no particular order or range. They're all good toys and gift ideas for your cute little one to make them learn and have fun while you're busy with your day-to-day activities.

Final Words On Best Toys and Gift Ideas for 1-Year-Old Girls

Children learn by watching, touching, listening, seeing and so on. And everything is upon us to make their learning and general development accessible at all stages of their lives. In one year, they have already reached a huge milestone of development and may need a toy swap to assist in the next stage. That's why we chose the best toys and gift ideas for 1-year-old girls to help you choose the right toys for your needs. The list is long and I am positive you will find perfect toys or gift ideas for your cute little 1-year-old girl. Good luck! Read the full article