#i should be back posting stuff after early November or after Christmas

[mrmosseater]

accidentally got pulled into the max design pro realm sorry guys

[lelibug]

There is NOTHING Beneficial About "Benefits"....

And Calling it "Welfare" is one HELL of a Joke - because they care an absolute TOSS about your "Welfare", and NONE of it Benefits You.

It's Shameful, Sickening, Humiliating, Debilitating, DEMEANING.

Now, for me and Lolli, it's about to get worse.

~~**~~

GODS-DAMNING APE-SHITE... Mam brought the MAIL .... AND It was a SHITLOAD OF CRAP TOO MUCH BEFORE CHRISTMAS....

PIP RE-APPLICATION FOR ME

FREAKING GODS-DAMNED UNIVERSAL CREDIT MIGREATION LETTER FOR US BOTH - Due before Feb 2025

MORE-THAN POLICY FOR BUDDY - Naturally his insurance is going WAY UP...

STUPID ADVOCATE FOR FAMILY FOR LOLLI.... TOTALLY THE WRONG TIME OF YEAR FOR THIS...!!!!

{First - will have to get Advocate off Lolli's back till at least MARCH Next Year, give her some recovery breathing space without him closing her down immediately. WHY does EVERYONE want to Get Hold Of Us Before Yule/Christmas??!?!}

Joint First AND Second.... have to concentrate on getting PIP done before "22 December 2024" ... Except that is a FREAKING SUNDAY(!!!). Meaning I've got to make sure THEY GET IT BEFORE OR ON FRIDAY 20th December 2024

They already took OVER A WEEK off me by sending the THICKSHITE Form SECOND CLASS and took A WEEK to get to me AFTER it got into the Royal Mail's system!! Sent it FRIDAY 22nd November. ASSHATS. Because I didn't get it till MONDAY 2nd DECEMBER, that obviously meant it MISSED the Friday post deadline and didn't even enter the postal system until the following MONDAY, FOUR DAYS LATER..(!!).

They should be sending it Track 24 to get it here ASAP. At LEAST "1st Class" - whatever that means, these days. But to miss TEN DAYS from their 1 month deadline is.. Abhorrent?? Reprehensible? It's Immoral, that's for sure.

THEREFORE... I HAVE TWO WEEKS MAXIMUM to write up the PIP Form.... !!????!!?! ... ANNNDDD I HAVE to send it EARLY, so they GET IT by or before December 20th - using Royal Mail TRACK 24**. Which Is NOT an Expense they should be putting on their recipients EVER(!!!) -- LEAST of all at Christmas Time.

That mailing service cost me nearly £7** the last time... Sods only knows what the hell it's going to be NOW...?!

***** ... Bye Bye £10 "Christmas Bonus".... Not that it's worth much anyway(!!) Want to say I can't believe it hasn't been updated since THE 1970s, when it was created... But that sounds about right, really, doesn't it?? According to an Inflation Calculater, £10 in 1972 was equivalent to more than £165 now. ---> That's DEFINITELY a Bonus for Christmas, would be A BIG MASSIVE HELP! They should have kept it in line with inflation, then people struggling would have been able to manage **SOMETHING** for themselves/Family at Christmas. .... Pathetically, Actual £10 of Now would have been giving them [just] 62p back then... There's a thought. ***

PIP PLAN: Will open up the WORD Document of the last one, re-save, add relevant changes, delete the original stuff and then that's that. And send the FND Packet (reformatted) as well.

***

In the New Year... Can then look at the Universal Credit Migration thingy for both of us.

WHY IS ALL OF THIS SHITE AROUND CHRISTMAS?!?!?!

BY LAW the DWP shouldn't be allowed to do anything like this between 1st November Yr.X and 31st January Yr.XY ... It's IMMORAL, WRONG & DESPICABLY DESPARING.

It does NOT help how TERRIBLY VULNERABLE I FEEL... NOT strong or in control whatsoever.

The DWP are SO arrogant, self-important & full of themselves... Demanding. Demeaning. Disparaging.

Denouncing anyone who needs it and get it as "Lazy Scroungers who need to be forced into labour..." As if shit wasn't BAD ENOUGH ALREADY.

This New Move To Universal Credit PETRIFIES Me.

Has done so from The Beginning. I've been on "Legacy" Benefits for over 10 years now - this change is... BRUTAL. ABHORRENTLY OVERWHELMING TO ME. To do this all during the CHAOS of CHRISTMAS...is... CRUEL TORTURE.

There's nothing even there to help with dealing this for those with #neurodivergant brains. As an #autistic person... This is FREAKING ME OUT, ENORMOUSLY.

Universal Credit has been around about as long as I've been ill, and it was a shitshow from the beginning (my ex-best friend and rommate worked for them back then, and I got firsthand, horse's-mouth tales all about it as it went along its potholed journey). But I also thought there would be a public timeline for "onboarding" users during the HUGELY SLOW migration. Except there wasn't one, and I just got LANDED IN IT, same time as PIP asked for a re-hash and sodding Chrismas 2024 came upon us.

Basically - well, I got better things to do. Like watch grass grow and paint dry. .... Oh, and there's also that SMALL THING of GETTING BETTER & RECOVERING from the latTWO YEARS OF HELL. Which is going about as well as things this world are, right now.

But instead... HAVE TO KEEP ON STRUGGLING TO SWIM AGAINST THE TIDE... With Sodding Damned TSUNAMI WAVES coming crashing at me the other way.

I am DROWNING ... and in no way does it seem like I'm not going to be taken under by ALL THIS SHITE GOING ON For Me now....

Universal Credit has ALWAYS meant a WORLD OF PAIN to everyone transferring onto it AND ever afterwards: - You have to be REASSESSED - Meaning a WORLD OF PAIN in having to DEAL WITH THAT .... On Top of the PIP one they just sent me(!!!!!!!!!)... There'll be NO WAY I'll be able to manage to go TO an assesment this time, and someone will have to come here to the house. Or do it over the phone. Or Via Skype. ALL HORRIBLE. - A HUGE PAY GAP between your last pay on the "Legacy" benefits, and Uiversal Credit - They stop it 2 weeks after you apply, BUT Takes FIVE WEEKS to freaking PROCESS...??!! - There's usually reported LESS Money being given than before - it's paid "Every Four Weeks" like PIP - meanging you get paid RANDOMLY once a month... NOTHING like actual salaried pay, which is on the same date every single month, but they say the idea is to emulate it... Which is RIDICULOUS because you can't set up reliable direct debits and standing orders on "you'll get it on dandom dates". - EVERYTHING is done ONLINE - which is kinda good, but only IF you're able to CONNECT... Including any server issues they get, or people actually READING your stupid "Notebook" on there. Granted, it's better than having to call people AND it's all in writing.... But I hardly TRUST ANYONE to actually READ it. My friend worked for these people - I got it from the horse's mouth how these places are run and the people they're run by, and the staff involved....

This is all Just a NIGHTMARE... My 20205 is looking SERIOUSLY FUCKING GRIM NOW.

[cryptidsurveys]

Wednesday, November 20th, 2024.

What’s better: winter break or spring break? Such breaks are no longer applicable to me, but in the past, winter break. It's longer (our winter breaks were two weeks, whereas spring break was only a single week) and it involves Christmas.

Are you cold, hot, or comfortable at the moment? I'm a little on the warm side. I just got out of a shower, I'm wearing cozy clothing, and the heater is running.

How many concerts have you been to in your life? Two/three. I left one pretty early because I was sick, though, so idk if I should even count it.

What’s your favorite TV show? I don't have a favorite show, but I do enjoy history, outer space, and food-related documentaries.

Would you ever have sex with the last person you texted? No. The last person I texted was Iris (manager). She posted a birthday photo to the group chat - of her pup who turned two years old today. I replied wishing him a happy birthday.

Would you rather paint your room puke green, or eat a potato bug? Eat a potato bug. Get the suffering over with. It would take hours and hours of effort to paint my room, and days and days of enduring potential migraines while the paint fumes cleared up. Then I would have to do it all over again because I'm not keeping puke green walls.

How old were you when you had the chicken pox? Pretty young. So young that I don't recall anything from the experience.

Ever had a friend named Alex or John? I've had a friend named Jon. Basically the same, just a slightly different spelling.

Are you one who misses a lot of school, just because? I'm not in school anymore, but I was frequently absent. I'm kind of surprised the same tendency hasn't followed me into volunteering. I've missed a few days here and there for various reasons, but nothing like when I was in school.

What type of music do you listen to the most? Classical.

What are you looking forward to in the next month? Hopefully, more snow…but not so much snow that I can't fit in another trip to the Mountain Park. And Thanksgiving. I wonder if the animal shelter is doing anything to celebrate. I might go to that if I'm invited and not too busy with my own cooking/baking.

Is there anyone that you’d love to just spill your guts to? I already do that in therapy.

When was the last time you painted a picture? If digital painting counts, then the last time was about a week ago. It's been maybe 2-3 years since I've done any "actual" painting.

Where is the person you have feelings at right now? There is no such person.

Can you drive? When did/do you get your license? I can. I got my license when I was 20 years old, but I stopped driving about a year after that and didn't pick it back up again until October 2023.

Have you ever had to get braces? Yeah.

What brand and flavor was the last gum you chewed? Mint.

Are you happy with your relationship status? I'm fine with it for the time being because I'm still trying to figure myself out, but I would like to be in a relationship one day. I don't want to remain single for the rest of my life.

What did you have for lunch today? Was it good? I haven't had lunch yet. I'm going to Black Eyed Pea with my mom and will likely be ordering the Cobb salad.

Which one: chocolate chip or sugar cookie? Sugar cookies.

Who was the last person that you sincerely apologized to? Probably my dad.

Do you like the smell of gasoline? Why or why not? I don't mind it, but I wouldn't go so far as to say I like it.

Do you like the color orange? Is it your favorite? Yeah. I wouldn't consider it a favorite on its own, but I do love autumnal orange/earthy hues. I also look surprisingly okay in orange clothing.

What kind of ice cream did you last eat? I think it would have been a coconut ice cream bar at the animal shelter over the summer.

What kind of stuff do you like on your hot dogs? Not necessarily all at once, but ketchup, mustard, crushed up corn chips, cheese, onion, and jalapeno peppers.

Have you ever been in a spelling bee? In school.

Do you enjoy talking on the telephone? Who do you talk to the most? Naw.

Do you think the last person you texted is attractive? She is pretty, but I'm not personally attracted to her.

Does it bother you when people don’t answer questions with exact answers? Like they're trying to dodge the question? I guess it depends on the circumstances. If I need an exact/clear answer, then yes. But if I asked a question that someone maybe found too personal or just didn't want to answer for some reason, then…oh well. Not my business.

Do you know how to snap your fingers? I can't do it. D;

In what order do you get ready in the mornings? Wake up around 4:30am, lie in bed and watch YouTube until around 5:30am, gather my clothing, brush my teeth, take a shower, get dressed, eat breakfast, pack my bag/lunchbox, and chat with my dad until it's time to leave.

When did you last cry? What for? Weeks ago. Over a movie.

Where were you at 9:18 this morning? Here, eating a snack and scrolling through YouTube comments. After that, I buzzed my hair and took a shower.

Where did you kiss the last person you kissed? At home.

When was the last time you consumed alcohol? Late July. I had some sample beers at a fund-raising event for the animal shelter.

What is in your bag for school, or work? When packed for a full day - a book for reading on lunch breaks, gum, migraine meds, snacks, a lunchbox, a couple of bottles of Powerade, a water bottle, toiletries, chapstick, and my little bag with ID cards and such.

The 2nd to last person you texted, how did you meet them? He's my dad, so…!

Do you call it a crush, or do you just say you like someone? I'd probably just say I like someone/have feelings for them/whatever.

Have you been drunk in the last week? No.

What’s your favorite thing to eat for breakfast? Oatmeal.

[sterek-stuffs]

I posted 3,750 times in 2022

That's 1,459 more posts than 2021!

6 posts created (0%)

3,744 posts reblogged (100%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@clotpolesonly

@isthatbloodonhisshirt

@evanesdust

@wellhalesbells

@outtoshatter

I tagged 1,895 of my posts in 2022

Only 49% of my posts had no tags

#queueue - 1,500 posts

#fic recs - 5 posts

#🥺 - 5 posts

#i love this - 5 posts

#sterek - 5 posts

#to read - 4 posts

#oooh - 4 posts

#love it - 4 posts

#this is so cute - 4 posts

#this is so cool! - 4 posts

Longest Tag: 115 characters

#the more he thought about it‚ the more he came to the somewhat startling realization that he might be okay with it.

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

NSFW Tag Game

The lovely @raisesomehale tagged me (well, my main which is RobotCorsair) in this bingo! Thanks for tagging me, this was fun! And sorry I didn't get a single one hahaha 😅 I enjoy a light sprinkling of smut on my fic but I rarely consume it as a main dish 😉 Some of the ones I marked I enjoy in very specific cases only, but when they match my tastes? Chef's kiss!

Card made by @loserchildhotpants! You can find it here!

(I'm not tagging anyone specific but if you see this and feel like doing it just tag me, I want to see it!)

3 notes - Posted July 29, 2022

#4

Soft

having a smooth surface or texture that is pleasant to touch; not rough or coarse.

having a pleasing quality involving a subtle effect or contrast rather than sharp definition.

800 words - G

Tags: Pre-Slash, Fluff, Wolf Derek Hale, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Ficlet, Cuddling & Snuggling, Sharing a Bed, Platonic Bed-sharing

12 notes - Posted June 14, 2022

#3

Stiles buys this cd for Derek as a Christmas gift

22 notes - Posted November 23, 2022

#2

Dear Fellow Traveler

written by: lanalua (sterek-stuffs) with art by @berrysterek

Rating: M (getting together, magic!Stiles, initial Stydia, endgame Sterek, Stiles leaves Beacon Hills, Stiles comes back to Beacon Hills)

Excerpt:

“Hey,” Stiles said when he was close enough for it to not be weird. Then he remembered Derek could have, and probably had, heard him from the house. Derek nodded, “I didn’t figure you for an early riser.” “Ha. I am full of surprises!” Stiles was in a good mood. “I see that. I thought you’d be back in New York by now.” Derek had a way of getting straight to the point. Stiles would have admired it if it wasn’t so annoying, so often. “Well, I decided to stay a bit longer, after our conversation that day, you know?” Was that a weird thing to admit to an… acquaintance? Friend? Trauma buddy? Whatever, it was too late now. He decided to turn things around on Derek. “Also, dude, are you staying here? What about your loft?” He was close enough now that Stiles could see his cheeks were a bit red, although whether from embarrassment or the cold he couldn’t tell.  Derek shook his head. “I have a room at the motel. I’m not staying here.”  Stiles raised his brows. “You’re such a bad liar!” Derek breathed what could be a laugh. “I’m not. It was just for tonight, I wanted to start work early today. Start tearing it down soon. It was easier to just stay here.” “And you’re clearly not a morning person.” Stiles quickly steered the conversation away from depressing topics. He meant to embarrass Derek, not make him think about his morbid past. Derek’s smirk showed a hint of fang. “Wolves are nocturnal.” “That’s not even true, you know? Wolves are totally crepuscular, so really, you should have been fully awake and ready to face the day by dawn, at the latest.”  Derek’s smirk softened into a smile, like he was pleasantly surprised at Stiles’ knowledge of random wolf facts. What did he expect? Stiles had gone into so many research spirals back in high school, looking into the behavior of wolves in the hopes of better understanding his lupine friends - well, and his enemies, if he was being honest. Guess the information had stuck with him even after all these years.

Coming soon to the @twsterekbigbang !!

102 notes - Posted June 6, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Fics that came out this year and you might have missed, but that are absolutely worth checking out!

among your heart-shaped leaves by dappledawndrawn

After rebuilding the Hale house, Derek enlists Stiles' help in planting a garden.

Bite the Moonlight & Bleed Gold by raisesomehale

Seven years after being tricked and imprisoned by the Argents, Derek Hale finds himself off the blistering coasts of Antarctica aboard the Argentum Domina, an illegal prison ship out of which the Argents operate their behemoth, underground poaching empire. Derek, a bitter, pack-less alpha, spends his days working off his servitude by poaching creatures for Gerard to sell on the Black Magic Market, just trying to retain his sanity as he earns back the years of his life one capture at a time. But there doesn't seem to be an end, or future, in sight for him. Until, everything changes when Allison Argent brings him a capture case with a reward price so ludicrous that he has no choice but to accept. The only problem is, the target creature shouldn't even exist. Derek is flung fast into the deep webbings of a bigger mystery than he could have ever imagined. And discovers that, like this enchanting creature, not everything is as it seems. Can Derek unmask the schemes that threaten not only his life, but the state of the very world itself? And if doing so means losing the unexpected love he finds along the way, will he be willing to make that sacrifice?

The Bright Side of Disaster by Gia279

Tucked between fresh harvested vegetables and fruits, homemade skincare products and lovingly knit scarves and sewn shawls, were booths and tables selling potions, amulets, crystals, and herbs, athames and wands, scrying glasses and hand-embroidered altar cloths. Beacon Hills was a hotbed for magical activity, and it drew the supernatural community like moths to a flame. There were rumors that magical tools crafted in town were more powerful, potions more effective, even herbs more potent.

buyer bonus by elisela

When he walks back to the table, Derek’s out of his seat before he can think better of it. He’s going to ask him out. He’s going to go over there, he’s not going to say the man has a mouth he’ll dream about or give any cheesy, half-assed pick-up line, and he’s going to ask him if he would like to get coffee some time. Maybe he’ll skip that and go straight for dinner, or the bookstore. Derek’s heard you can learn a lot about a person by what they read. He’s cool. He can do this. “Hi,” he says, eyes flickering down to the glossy pamphlets of houses for sale that litter the table, and when panic overtakes him, what comes out of his mouth isn’t any of those things. “I’m thinking about buying a new place. Are you an agent?” Ah, crap.

Waning Crescent by Dexterous_Sinistrous

Derek’s scent was a heady warmth that enveloped Stiles’ senses. It was like the first strike of rain in a dried forest. A crisp smokiness to the tickle of petrichor. It lit up an unfamiliar spark in Stiles’ gut. And for the first time in a couple hundred years, his fangs ached.

how long will it take (to finally atone) by lookingforatardis

“I could hurt you,” Stiles says quietly, and doesn’t quite understand why he’s being honest himself. “You wouldn’t.” “I did, though. I did, Derek.” Stiles’ voice shakes and he has to pull his attention away from Derek to calm himself down from the sudden flash of memory. Silence fills the room until it’s uncomfortable, until Stiles has to look, and finds Derek watching him with a closed expression. “That was the nogitsune,” he tells him. “Not you.” Or: Void hurts Derek while possessing Stiles and Stiles has an extremely hard time recovering from what Void did to Derek even after the nogitsune is gone. The thought of touching him sends him into a blind panic, terrifying him as if every touch will hurt him all over again. Stiles can only take so much, after all, and Derek has always been his weak spot.

Don't forget to leave the authors some love!

185 notes - Posted August 26, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[snowiii95]

Hello everyone, hope you’re all doing well. Haven’t updated anything in a while so here I am writing a little update so you all can catch up.

Won’t go into detail but my mental and physical health haven’t been the best, in fact 2021 was an awful year for me lol. However, I’m slowly getting back into things!

Let’s talk about the positive stuff now:You all show so much love and support to me that I want to keep creating the best possible content. That said, I’m going through my mods and fixing tunning files and seeing which mods I can improve and which ones I totally should remake (this for trait mods).

A while ago I’ve also mentioned a website, well you���ll be glad to know early December it will be up with all my mods organized. That way everytime a new patch comes out or I make changes, you know which mods are ok to use and you can find exactly what you want.

I’ll also be trying to release new content inspired in the holidays and some mods that have been highly requested, so if you don’t celebrate Christmas you can still have something to look for :)

For the future:I’ll be restricting the numbers of mods I make and focous on the quality. This also means I’ll need your guys help by saying what you need :) Each month I’ll be posting on twitter, discord and patreon a few polls to know which content to release/improve. 

About social media:For those that care I’m coming back to youtube and twitch.Been wanting to do it for a while for two reasons: 1) test my actual mods live/while recording so is easier and fast to fix, 2) create a save space for everyone, a place that you know is always there after a hard day, where you can laugh and relax with a nice beverage and a snack :) 

Phew! Ok this was alot haha and if you’ve read this so far omfg I love you??! 

Hope you guys are excited! 

Now keep an eye out of new content, late November/early December :)

Love you all, Snowiii* <3

[whatiwillsay]

off topic - let’s talk about gaylena 👀

selena gomez is one of taylor’s oldest and bestest friends and given that she is in the 22 liner notes, a huge part of taylor’s life, and maybe fruity herself it seems like possibly we don’t talk about her here at the blog enough!

i don’t want to do a timeline of selena and taylor’s friendship - you can read more about that here, but they met back in the day when they were both dating jonas brothers and to me this idea of finding a real friendship in the midst of these contrived promances is pretty adorable.

ofc most of y’all think taylor is a fruit basket but i think there’s a good chance that selena is too!  i’m not saying she is for sure but y’all know me.  i’’m here to make a compelling case that everyone and their dog is gay so let’s gooooo! 

Part I - At least one fake rs!  

Selena “dated” Taylor Lautner in 2009 and he’s definitely gay.  Of course, that doesn’t mean she is, it could just be PR, but y’all know I gotta note everything!  We stan our fruity bffs dating the same gays 😍

Part II - Selena x cara delevingne

i feel like there’s a chance they met through taylor but everyone in that squad adjacent circle knows one another.  cara dated michelle rodriguez for the first half of 2014 and then got with annie clark in March 2015 but it feels like it’s possible something has gone on between her and Selena from summer 2014 - early 2015? ...maybe something casual on and off a bit?

August 2014 - Steamy pics surface in Saint-Tropez, France

Selena and and a freshly single Cara vacation together in part to celebrate Selena’s 22nd birthday.

They party together and look cozy!

Pictures such as this surface and spark rumors around the two:

Selena apparently loves the rumors and gushes about being shipped with Cara.

Quote:

You say Selena drag queens were the true measure of success for you. But isn’t it true that you’re not truly famous until you’ve been the subject of a gay rumor? And last year, the tabloids had a field day with photos of you and Cara Delevingne. I’ve made it!

How did you react to those rumors? Honestly, I loved it. I didn’t mind it. Especially because they weren’t talking about other people in my life for once, which was wonderful. Honestly, though, she’s incredible and very open and she just makes me open. She’s so fun and she’s just extremely adventurous, and sometimes I just want that in my life, so I didn’t mind it. I loved it.

Notice she doesn’t deny them?  Now of course she could just be being cool, if she freaked out about it that might be even weirder but hey, it’s still kind of interesting.

Then she admits to questioning her sexuality???

Have you ever questioned your sexuality? Oh, I think everybody does, no matter who they are. I do, yeah, of course. Absolutely. I think it’s healthy to gain a perspective on who you are deep down, question yourself and challenge yourself; it’s important to do that.

(Selena btw, this is cool and all, but not everybody questions their sexuality, maybe you’re just gay 👀)

November 1 - LACMA Art + Film Gala 

they even left the event together 👀

and they hung out earlier that day as well:

They were seen the next day partying for Kendall Jenner’s bday singing to her:

a few weeks later Cara tweets Selena’s lyrics!

In December 2014 they are travelling together in texas:

in january 2015 they get cozy at the golden globes together!

and they leave together again:

January 19th/20th a bunch of gay nonsense happens

They post this gay shit with matching shoes and linked fingers:

then they say this to one another:

Enty says they were hooking up!

then we don’t get any more content that i can find for about six months! perhaps they had a fling from summer 2014-jan 2015 and then it ends, Cara gets with Annie in March?  Then after half a year apart Selena and Cara resume a friendly relationship?  Perhaps!  Selena is seen with Justin a bit off and on during this time but this was in their Style/Heat Death Era imo (tbh i probably shouldn’t give a hetty pairing including Justin that designation 🤢but y’all get what I’m saying - it’s fully possible Selena was hooking up with both of them!

Now I’m not super familiar with Selena’s discography so y’all lmk if I’m missing anything major - lyric wise that point to her not being straight.

Selena’s album Revival that comes out after this relationship has a few songs with some vibes, even though I get the feeling a lot of it is probably about Justin, allow me to reach.  The title track could be translated as someone coming to terms with their sexuality (among other things):

I feel like I've awakened lately The chains around me are finally breaking I've been under self-restoration I've become my own salvation Showing up, no more hiding, hiding The light inside me is bursting, shining It's my, my, my time to butterfly

Good for you, imo, is too sexy to be about a man even if it’s not super queer lyrically it’s a vibe ok?

Me & My Girls might be a bestie anthem a la 22 (oh wait, no 22 was gay too) but I mean...could be about a girl gang of lesbians too!

And if we want it, we take it If we need money, we make it Nobody knows if we fake it You like to watch while we shake it I know we're making you thirsty You want us all in the worst way But you don't understand I don't need a man 

Quinn Fabray indeed!

Nobody feels probably like a retrospective on Justin 🙄but...there is a hint of sapphic craving in there!  Saying this particular lover loves them differently than everyone is a bit 👀 plus this stanza:

No oxygen, can barely breathe My darkest sin, you've raised release And it's all because of you, all because of you And I don't know what it is, but you've pulled me in No one compares, could ever begin To love me like you do And I wouldn't want them to

Is Perfect about some bitch Justin started dating?  Probably but bear with me here this song is actually pretty fucking gay.  Gay enough that I’m gonna add it to one of my gay playlists.  Could this song actually be about Cara moving on to Annie?

Ooh, and I bet she has it all Bet she's beautiful like you, like you And I bet she's got that touch Makes you fall in love, like you, like you

I can taste her lipstick and see her laying across your chest I can feel the distance every time you remember her fingertips Maybe I should be more like her Maybe I should be more like her I can taste her lipstick, it's like I'm kissing her, too And she's perfect And she's perfect

Part III - Selena x Julia Michaels

Julia Michaels is a singer/songwriter known for her song Issues.  I don’t know her sexuality but she at the least has gay vibes!  It seems they met around this time perhaps because Julia wrote on Revival.

They have a friendly enough friendship for a few years, liking one another’s posts on IG from time to time, posing for a photo a time or two and then they seem to get swept up into this very intense friendship in 2019.  They write some music together and Julia goes whole hog in promoting the shoe brand Selena is hawking this time 😭

2019 - The Superior Sapphic Jelena Timeline:

It starts, for some reason with a lot of shoe promotion:

chill, chill

more shoes

but more gayness?

this homo shit

ok...

Then we go into the REALLY GAY NOVEMBER OF 2019:

Then they perform together:

And...actually kiss...on the mouth on stage???

Sure it’s just a peck but still...if that were a guy people would say they were dating.  

Somehow kissing on the mouth isn’t the gayest thing these girls do over this period because these fucking dykes got matching tattoos.  I’ve read enough Larry blogs to know this actually means they’re secretly married.  All jokes aside this is fruity behavior. 

From their IG stories:

Selena gets Julia a very nice christmas gift:

Covid sets in and content drops off but god damn!  It’s possible they just had an intense friendship but if a man and a woman collabed on music together, kissed in public, and got matching tattoos everyone would say they were dating!

Selena, as far as I can find, didn’t have any public boyfriends around this time so who are some of these love songs about?

Rare comes out in January 2020 and perhaps has some gayish songs?

Don’t tell me why but boyfriend lowkey, has a gay vibe.  Don’t ask me to explain it but it’s just the musicality of it.

Crowded Room could be a love song for Julia?  (or by Julia for Selena, since they’re collaborators?)

Baby, it's just me and you Baby, it's just me and you Just us two Even in a crowded room Baby, it's just me and you, yeah

These are general gay vibes, our secret moments in a crowded room tease

It started polite, out on thin ice 'Til you came over to break it I threw you a line and you were mine

It would have started out polite between them, since they worked together for years before whatever 2019 was happened.  And throwing someone a line first of all makes Selena sound like the aggressor but also “throwing someone a line” could be a reference to writing songs together.

Yeah, I was afraid, but you made it safe I guess that is our combination Said you feel lost, well, so do I So won't you call me in the morning? I think that you should call me in the morning If you feel the same, 'cause

Lots of people are afraid at the beginning of a gay rs.  Treacherous tease 👀

In summation!

Selena does gay stuff like fantasizing ab kissing other women in her music, getting very touchy with famous dykes on vacay, hangs out with Taylor Swift, has chronic mental health issues, dated a jonas brother and a twilight gay, has admitted to questioning her sexuality, and loves being shipped with women.  Is she gay?  I don’t know!   But all she’s missing from her celesbian bingo card is a suspiciously intense friendship with a Glee Cast member! What do you guys think?  Selena fruity or just weird?

Edit to add: so apparently I missed an entire ship and Selena supposedly acted really gay all the time with her backup dancer Charity Baroni.  Exposing SMG has posted a lot about all that.

Also Selena has been cast in a gay role! edit to add: @bisluthq went and found this for me - julia is indeed a fruit queen

[bbhyeoliskooks]

.- : ✧ 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 ✧ : -.

➶ TXT’s Reaction to Seeing you Excited for Christmas Like a Little Kid

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Genre: 5 cups of snowflakes and fluff~!

Warnings: None~~

(omg, watch me post every day now for christmas ?? i haven’t been working on stuff because of assignments and stuff so i’m sad, i really wanted to write a lot for the holiday this year :(( but iss okay~! We have now and hopefully you guys will like it hehe)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

. ⋅ ˚̣- Yeonjun:

*’. All year you had been begging to do so many fun activities with him for your first Christmas together as a couple

*’. Every time though, he would boop your adorable lil’ nose and say with a teasing tone, “just be patient and wait~!”

*’. But how could you be patient when the best time of the year was coming???

*’. Yeonjun knew how excited you were for this when you counted down the days starting from November, so he guessed he was really in for a ton of screaming when the first day of December came

*’. When the month of December finally arrived, you were on your toes for all of the holiday cheerings and greetings !

*’. It was just pure happiness wherever you went- you saw everyone with big smiles painted on their faces, little children running around the store to look for Santa, and especially the couples who gifted each other surprises every week

*’. Yeonjun woke up at 12am on Christmas morning because of how much you were screeching and screaming to the top of your lungs

*’. “Will you calm down for a second? We have the rest of the day to spend, but I need some sleep first.” “Jjunie, but it’s Christmas already! I just wanna-” chuuu <3

*’. When he saw the stars sparkle in your eyes, he couldn’t help but instantly pull you aside and gift you with some pretty early passionate kisses

*’. It was the least Yeonjun could do for you, really~! You’re his adowable, widdle baby of course hehe

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

. ⋅ ˚̣- Soobin:

*’. The Christmas Tree was exceptionally stunning this year ! With all of its gleaming ornaments that hadn’t broken down from the past few years, it wasn’t that hard to believe

*’. It honestly was quite a journey to get the tree inside of the house, but luckily both you and Soobin were able to scuffle enough with the struggle to decorate it from home

*’. Seeing how you happily placed ornament after ornament on the pine tree warmed his heart

*’. “Soobders! Doesn’t this one look so pretty?! I think we should shop for more so that I know which ones you really like.”

*’. He absolutely couldn’t say no, okay…

*’. “Ai, love. You’re the prettier one here, be quiet.”

*’. It seemed that you didn’t hear him as you gazed in wonder at your favorite one- his heart was going crazy because of it

*’. Poor him, he couldn’t concentrate on getting the task done since you were so alluring under the Christmas lights hehe

*’. And poor you, didn’t know what kind of effect you had on Soobders here !!

*’. Needless to say, you didn’t get finished decorating the Christmas tree :// but no need to worry, you couldn’t complain because Soobin flung you over his shoulder to have some cuddly times <3

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

. ⋅ ˚̣- Beomgyu:

*’. Voila! You stared at yourself in the mirror with satisfaction, adoring how gorgeous you were in your favorite winter outfit

*’. It was actually for a party, you never dressed up quite this much unless there was an important occasion.

*’. Excitement brought itself up from your jumping feet to your trembling arms… in complete realization that it was just a few hours 'till Christmas morning and you’ll definitely be the happiest person ever !

*’. Beomgyu saw how happy you were dancing around in the mirror, and just had to stop his movements- only to stare and coo at you from behind

*’. He truly couldn’t resist giving you a gift from how thrilled you were in front of him

*’. “Princess! I brought you something!”

*’. You immediately looked behind you once you heard the word ‘princess’ to see him rummage under the pocket of his suit, trying to get something from out of there

*’. He walked closer to you, snatching out a tiny box with bright, red wrapping paper on it

*’. You hurriedly opened it with just a little touch of hesitation from how happy he was to give it to you, not expecting that

*’. Oh my gosh :o!! It was the prettiest golden necklace with a letter of B on it ( )

*’. Once he said that it was something to remember him by whenever you miss him, you knew at that exact moment you were so incredibly whipped that it was laughable

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

. ⋅ ˚̣- Taehyun:

*’. Oh. No. Oh. My. Gosh. No.

*’. As much as Taehyun loved the Christmas holidays, he was NOT ready to hear that Mariah Carey song blast in his ear 24/7, especially from you who knew he absolutely despised whenever the radio played it

*’. Actually, back in June when you were getting sad about it not being winter, he made you promise you wouldn’t play this in the house, not even once

*’. Guess what

*’. You didn’t let him live one second without hearing it

*’. Who could blame you??? You were so exhilarated that the holidays had come !! Which meant so many gifts and sincere love to give to the love of your life !!

*’. He made sure to appease every single one of your efforts of playing that song by a few encouragements like cuddles or subtle kisses on your hands

*’. BUT NO, THAT DIDN’T WORK EITHER CRIIII

*’. Cue the puppy eyes he totally has no control saying no over

*’. Although… you were so cute and tiny despite your height that girlie, he fell in love with your stunning spirit over and over again ~~

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

. ⋅ ˚̣- Kai:

*’. If someone said the word Christmas from a mile away, you would sPRINT out of wherever you were, throwing hands on the streets because of the happiness that simply overwhelmed the rest of your emotions

*’. We can say that Kai hit you with his plushies to make sure you wouldn’t get away from him any longer :DD and good thing he succeeded because you were going crazy over the idea of hot chocolate with marshmallows

*’. Gifts only made your want stronger unfortunately, the need to wrap a few gifts getting on your nerves from how itching your hands were to prep up some happiness

*’. The week before Christmas, you were getting sad since you hadn’t gone shopping with Hyuka yet :((

*’. Okay, he just couldn’t say no to your cute grin when you asked him to accompany you to the stores >3< he needed to go shopping with you now~~

*’. You basically dragged him everywhere- to the Christmas tree perched in the middle of the mall to the decorations section where snowmen were singing their own merry tunes

*’. His feet and legs were aching, but hey !! You were so happy with him that he could say his body didn’t hurt one bit <333

*’. You made it up to him later by making a few cookies you knew he adored

*’. He’d return the favor- would definitely calm you down during night by singing a few Christmas carols or even putting on a movie~~

*’. Not before giving you your early Christmas gifts… which were some sweet kisses okay

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Posted: 12/18/20- 9:55pm

Tags:

[spiderman-homecomeme]

nuts about you

It’s simple. Thirty days. All of November. No nutting allowed. Can Peter survive? A friends/roommates to lovers tale of stupid bets, sabotage, and most important of all, nuts. 

thotumn. day 11. free prompt day finale.

Thank you @spideysmjs​ for organizing this magical month for us!! Because I am TOO impatient, I’m posting this a day early (also to keep my tradition of not posting things at the right time). Enjoy this purely goofy adventure. 

--

Of all of the stupid ideas Peter and Ned have thought of in their ten-plus years of friendship, this one’s up there. 

Easily in the top three. 

No, it’s more than stupid. It’s ridiculous. It’s pointless. No one in their right mind actually thinks this is a good idea or that there’s any reason to do it. It’s an internet joke that’s too old, a meme that has no right being funny anymore. It’s run its course, and the guise of it raising awareness for anything other than the masturbation habits of penis-havers is complete and utter bullshit.

Again. It’s stupid.

Still, Peter Parker is not one to turn down a challenge, no matter how stupid. He’s nothing if not competitive. What can he say? If he won’t do it, who will?

This is what he considers as Ned lays it on the table for him.

All of November. Thirty days. 

Peter doesn’t know how the conversation even started or how they ended up betting against each other in the world’s most moronic challenge. All he knows is that Ned is more than convinced that Peter is weak and won’t last. In fact, he’s so convinced that he’s willing to bet money on it. His reasoning ends up being that Peter isn’t strong enough.

And Peter? Well, he’s convinced that he will make it, that he can survive an entire month without giving in to his desires to bust a nut, to beat his meat, etc. etc. And he, too, is willing to bet money—a stupid amount, maybe more than a hundred—on his own success and his friend’s failure. He doesn’t want to appear too cocky, but he’s more than a hundred percent sure he’s got this in the bag. Yeah, it’s thirty days of cutting out one of Peter’s favorite pastimes—if not the favorite—but there’s no doubt in his mind that he’s more than capable of practicing a little restraint. 

Still, confident as he is, there’s still that part of him that can’t help but dread the coming month the more and more he thinks about it. 

“So, definitely thirty days?” Peter asks, eyes narrowing in thought. He tries to appear casual, as if the idea of no release for that amount of time isn’t a big deal. It’s more for clarification. “November has thirty days?”

Ned scoffs. “Yeah. Thirty days.”

“Any strikes? Any free coupons?”

“Nope.” Ned shakes his head with a soul-crushing finality. “Why? You don’t think you can make it?” 

It’s Peter’s turn to scoff, face scrunching dramatically as he recoils. “What? No. I’m worried about you, man. What are you gonna do about Betty?” 

Ned fixes him with a deadpan stare, clearly not buying whatever bullshit Peter’s trying to peddle. “A bet is a bet. She will respect that.”

“How can I trust you, though?” Peter asks, eyes narrowing in slight accusation. “You’re always at her place. I mean, how’ll I know you’re not lying?”

Ned glares. “How can I trust you?”

Peter sputters, desperately thinking of ways to throw a reverse Uno at this situation. “Wha—I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m—I’m single, man.”

Ned blinks. Once. Twice. “Do we need to talk about Felicia?”

“That was—”

“Cindy?”

“Dude—”

“Johnny? Jessica? Gwen—”

“I get it. I get it—”

“Carlie? Oh—Debbie? Caleb! Then there was Angela—”

Peter’s expression contorts into one of confusion. “Angela?” He tilts his head, squinting, searching for any kind of memory. 

“Cute red head. You met her in line at Aldi.”

“Ahhh…” A knowing, borderline too-telling smile of recognition pulls at Peter’s lips. “Angela...” he sighs, almost dreamily. Okay, so maybe Ned has a point. But just because Peter enjoys the company of other people so much that he’s got his own version of Mambo No. 5, doesn’t mean he’s incapable of living without the warm touch of another human being or his hand. 

Peter freezes, glancing at his friend. “Okay. Well. What do you want me to do about that? It’s not like I’m gonna call any of them up or anything. I have some sense of self-control.”

Again, Ned blinks. 

“And besides, Felicia was freshman year… she’s our friend now. I don’t hook-up with her anymore.”

Another blink. “Dude.”

“Fine.” Peter huffs, whipping his phone out, eyes nearly rolling out of their sockets and onto the floor as he starts swiping through his contacts. “But I’m not deleting any of ‘em, okay?” 

“Peter…” 

“I’ll change their names! How ‘bout that?” 

A beat passes of silent, overtly-judgmental staring on Ned’s part. He huffs after another second, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Fine.” Then, his frown shifts into a nonchalant smirk. “Whatever makes it easier for you to lose and me to win.” 

“Please,” Peter scoffs. “I’m not the one with a girlfriend. You’re going down.” He tilts his head, narrowing his eyes, lips pursed in mock-contemplation as he points a finger. “Or I guess… Betty’s the one going down.”

Ned nearly chokes on his water holding back a snort. “Come on, man.”

Peter shrugs. 

“Okay, well, are you gonna change the contact name for your right hand, too?”

It’s Peter’s turn to spit out a laugh. 

But before he can even come up with another totally awesome comeback, he hears the jingling of keys, the clanking of locks as their roommate comes home after a long day of classes. All he sees is a flash of her curly hair before he’s tearing his gaze away from the front door, suddenly finding the pads of his thumbs to be pretty damn interesting. 

“Hey, MJ,” Ned greets casually, as if they weren’t just sorting out a bet where neither of them are allowed to orgasm for an entire month. 

“‘Sup.” Michelle flashes them a brief, closed-mouth grin as she makes for the refrigerator, swiping up some baby carrots and the brita filter. 

Really, the conversation from earlier should be done there. Nothing else needs to be said. Especially not in front of their roommate. 

But Peter can’t help himself. 

“Let’s shake on it,” he says, putting his hand out, knowing that the more he keeps talking, the more danger he’s in of saying too much. 

Ned takes it readily, eyes narrowed in determination. “Let’s.”

The corner of Peter’s lip twitches upward, but he holds it back. “No… Peanuts.”

��No walnuts.”

They have that understanding, speaking in the code that the two of them have just made up on the spot, something that Peter can’t help but feel pretty damn proud of. 

MJ glances between the two, carrot half-way to her mouth, frozen in place, brows pinched in suspicion. 

“Peter and I are giving up all nuts for the next month,” Ned says proudly, answering the question that she most certainly did not ask. 

“Cool.”

Ned throws a not-as-subtle-as-he-thinks-it-is wink across the table, giving a just as subtle thumbs up from behind one of his stray history books. 

Peter nods. 

“Why?” Michelle asks, her question—one that shouldn’t have been as much of a surprise at is was—causing them both to exchange wary glances. 

There’s a silence that follows, one that might clearly show that these two guys have no idea what kind of hole they’ve dug themselves into. Ned watches Peter expectantly. Peter glares back. 

“Is it like a health thing?” MJ offers, popping another carrot into her mouth.

Peter nods a little too quickly. “Yeah. Health stuff.” His stomach flips when her gaze meets his, her eyes squinting as she chews thoughtfully. 

“May thinks Peter might have a nut allergy,” Ned hastily spits out. When both sets of eyes land on him, he laughs. “So his allergist suggested going a month without ‘em. To see if that makes it better.”

And honestly, Peter thinks that’s a pretty damn good save. 

The best part is that MJ seems to buy it. She nods. “So why are you doing it, Ned?”

“Solidarity,” Ned offers quickly. 

Nice save. 

“Ah,” MJ purses her lips, though she still doesn’t seem to care all that much. “Well, good luck. I guess. I know how much you guys… love… nuts? I guess?”

Peter nods solemnly. 

When she turns back to grab a cup from the cabinet, he throws Ned a quick single nod.

Well played.

--

“So, Peter’s doing no nut November.”

Felicia nearly chokes, snorting as she struggles to keep her vanilla latte in her mouth. “What?” She asks after a dangerous second. They were supposed to be having a nice study sesh, reading about Bloom’s taxonomy, not talking about Peter’s nut habits. 

“He and Ned made a stupid bet to see who could last the whole month,” MJ answers, taking a quiet sip of her London Fog. “Apparently they bet a lot of money on it.”

Felicia’s face scrunches in amused confusion. “Why?”

“Do they really need a reason to do dumb shit?” 

Considering that for a second, Felicia nods with a satisfied frown. “Fair.”

“I bet against Peter, though,” MJ continues. “After he left, I made Ned let me in on it. There’s no way Pete can last the whole month, right? Not even a week.”

“Oh, definitely not,” Felicia vehemently shook her head. “I honestly feel like he’d spontaneously combust after, like, a day.” Then, she lets out a quiet snort. “Combust a nut.”

Michelle wrinkles her nose. “Ew.”

“But for real. He’s not gonna make it.”

“That’s what I said. Ned seems to have some faith in him though—no idea why. I told him that Peter wouldn’t even last a week… and now I guess I’m involved.”

“This would be so easy to sabotage though.”

“Right?” 

“Seriously,” Felicia snorts. “All I’d have to do is hit him up one more time and he’s gone.” And then, in that next instant, her face lights up like a Christmas tree. “That’s it!” Before she says anything else, she’s pulling her phone out, quickly scrolling through, looking for God knows what. “Girl, I am gonna win that bet for you.” 

MJ leans forward, curious, yet still cautious. She’s not sure if Peter hooking up again with Felicia is the best idea, given that relations within the friend group would just make things a giant, tangled up mess of complicated awkwardness. “How?” Michelle dares to ask, craning her neck to see what the hell Felicia’s doing on her phone. 

Her friend is quiet for a moment, locked in concentration on her screen, bottom lip tucked between her teeth, brows knit together. Then, she cracks a satisfied, sly smile, turning her phone to show MJ just what she was looking for. 

Simply; a picture of Felicia’s relatively new tattoo which, in and of itself, doesn’t seem like it would get Peter’s peter going. It’s pretty. Floral. Nothing to lose one’s mind over. 

No, it’s more the placement. 

It’s a tasteful shot, the simple flowers lining the underside of her breasts, her hands acting as makeshift pasties, just barely covering her nipples. 

Still, though there’s no actual nudity, it’s enough to make MJ’s eyes bug out of her head for a moment before she’s realizing what she’s looking at. 

“Okay. So?” Michelle waits for an explanation. 

“I send him this,” Felicia says simply, pulling her phone back and (seemingly) drafting up the very message. “Ask if he wants a closer look at it.” 

Michelle considers it a moment, knowing that there’s a very strong chance that Peter could almost immediately fall into such an obvious trap. The corners of her lips twitch into a casual frown. She shrugs. “Honestly. Yeah. That might work.” 

“Might?” Felicia almost scoffs. 

“You’re a genius.”

A smirk tugs at Felicia’s mouth as she leans back in her chair, swiping up to send the message before putting the phone down on the table. “I know.”

They sit in silence, the two of them watching the screen with bated breath. They both gasp when the read receipt pops up, followed by a dead silence. MJ can only imagine how stressed that boy must be, opening his phone, thinking it’s an innocent text from Felicia, then BAM, he’s vibe-checked by her boobs instead. 

She holds back a snort, her stomach jumping into her throat seeing the dot-dot-dot pop up at the bottom of the screen. It’s almost as if she forgets to breathe, waiting to see what he’s going to say to such a blatant come on. 

It’s like he’s typing a damn novel with how long it’s taking him though, and Michelle’s not sure she can take it much longer. 

And then, her phone dings. 

Felicia’s lips pull into a frown reading the message. “‘Wow. Looks cool! No thanks, though.’ Aaaaand,” she spins her phone for MJ to read it. “Thumbs-up emoji. Smiley face with sunglasses.”

Even MJ’s surprised at that response. Maybe Peter is really taking this No Nut November thing seriously. Maybe he’s not as weak as she thought. But… it doesn’t make any sense. Nothing’s adding up. 

And with this confusion, there’s a sense of relief, knowing his response. Waiting wasn’t fun. 

“Huh.” Felicia sighs, biting her lip in thought as she starts typing out another message and sending it. 

“What did you say?” Michelle asks. 

“I told him I’d been thinking about getting my nipples pierced and wanted to know what he thought.” 

At that, Michelle snorts. “You’re an evil woman.” 

Felicia shrugs innocently. “I think he’d really like ‘em.”

Truly, it’s a genius move. It’s something that Peter has to address; Felicia’s nipples. The idea of them being pierced. It’s too much for his brain to handle. 

And again, just like before, they get into a staring contest with the conversation, watching as the read receipt pops up again, immediately followed by the ever-cruel ellipses as Peter no doubt struggles with a response that’s not too-eager. 

But then, he completely throws them for another loop. 

“‘I support you, friend!’ with…” Her eyes narrow. “A smiley face.” 

“Wow,” Michelle says, genuinely surprised. 

And Felicia seems just as shocked, if not a little offended that one of her oldest tricks in the book seem to have no effect whatsoever. “Did he just… friendzone me?” She asks, absolutely appalled.

“You were already friends before?” Michelle laughs. 

“But in this context?” She huffs, shaking her head. A beat passes where all she does is stare at her phone. “That’s weird,” she says slowly, lips quirking into a confused frown. “Huh.” 

“There, there,” Michelle deadpans, patting her friend stiffly on the hand. 

Felicia laughs. “It’s fine…” She draws out. “A hit to the ego is good for me every once in a while.”

“Oh my God,” MJ rolls her eyes. “You’re still hot. Don’t worry.” 

With a sad, a little over-dramatic nod, Felicia’s frown deepens as she pretends to wipe at her eyes. “Yeah. I am.” 

“I can’t believe that didn’t work,” MJ muses. Really, she can’t. Peter’s perhaps the easiest person she knows—and there’s nothing wrong with that at all; it’s just a fact of life. The sky is blue. Grass is green. Peter is a thot.

“I guess he’s really following through with this whole no nut thing…” Felicia’s brow furrows as she recoils. “How much money did he bet anyway?”

“A hundred.” 

“Oh my God.”

“Yeah.” 

“How much did you put in?” 

“...A hundred.”

“MJ!”

“Listen!” Michelle reasons, holding her hands up in defense. “This is gonna be the easiest two hundred dollars I’ve ever made.”

Felicia sits back, clearly impressed. “Does Peter know you’re in on it?”

“Nope,” MJ says, emphasizing the ‘p’ with an audible pop. 

“Well—” Felicia starts, shifting in her seat, crossing one leg over the other. “—I’m sure you’ll find some way to make that boy give in. Sorry I couldn’t help.”

Michelle lets out a light snort. “It’s okay. You tried.” 

“If I think of anything else, I’ll let you know.”

But honestly, MJ already has a vague idea of what her next step is. 

And it brings her to his bedroom, to his desk, messing with his laptop while he’s out for his Sunday patrol. His password is entirely too easy to guess—really, you’d think a guy as smart as Peter would have something a little more complicated than “webshooter69.” 

If there’s anything she knows about Peter—maybe a little too much about her friend—is that while he mostly enjoys the company of a flesh and blood human being, he’s not above the occasional perusing of adult websites. 

The guy likes porn. 

The plan is to make his chrome homepage one of his regular sites. Confront him with the images that really get him going. 

She browses through his history, hoping that he hadn’t thought to delete everything or go incognito. And… luckily for her, that particular idea seemed to have slipped his mind entirely. Literally not even a week out and she’s found a slightly-more-than-nefarious-looking website. 

Easy enough. 

And it’s exactly what she’s looking for. Nudity galore. There doesn’t seem to be a corner of the site that doesn’t have a boob or a butt. It is truly Peter’s domain.

For a moment, she wonders if she should make the homepage specifically something he searches for… his favorite genre perhaps. 

She shakes the thought away immediately. It’s too invasive. Besides, the front page should be more than enough—there’s literally a video that frustratingly autoplays every time she goes back to that one page. And why would she need to know what Peter likes? There’s no reason for that. At all. 

Making sure to close out of everything before logging out, she slams the laptop shut, sprinting out of his room as if he was just about to get home. Her heart races as she slams her own bedroom door behind her, catching her breath proving to be more difficult than usual. 

And now, she waits. 

It turns out, she doesn’t have to wait very long. 

That evening, in fact, after Peter’s come back for dinner. 

He takes his time microwaving his leftovers from the day before, whistling to himself as he bounces around the kitchen. The whole time it feels like MJ’s just holding her breath, anticipating his early demise the instant he opens up chrome on his laptop. And honestly, this does feel like a low blow, like she’s just snatching up that low-hanging fruit—God, MJ, phrasing—but then she’s reminded that this, again, is the easiest two hundred dollars she will ever earn. 

And then she feels a little less bad about what she’s done. 

The second he’s finished with his food and disappears into his room, her eyes are on his door, and then it occurs to her that there’s not really a way that she can know he’s, well, “lost.” It’s all based on his own honor, if he’ll admit to succumbing to his most basic need. She likes to think that he would, though. Peter’s too much of a good, honest guy—hiding his secret identity aside—that he couldn’t lie to his friends about it. 

Ned comes home not two minutes later, deflating on the other side of the couch. 

“Rough day?” MJ asks, the teasing hint to her tone not going unnoticed. 

Ned rolls his eyes. “Told Betty I was doing this whole month thing.”

MJ winced. “Yikes.”

“Yeah,” Ned chuckles. 

“Well, if it helps, this whole thing is probably gonna end in—” she checks her phone. “—five or so minutes.”

Ned’s gaze darts right and left. “What… What do you mean?” 

Before she can answer, Peter yelps from the other side of his door. There’s a loud crash that sounds suspiciously like a laptop being yeeted across the room in a hasty, knee-jerk reaction. Before either she or Ned can move, Peter’s bursting through his door, eyes blown wide, his face drained of all color, and he’s frozen in place, one hand gripping the doorframe. 

And it takes everything in her not to grin. “Everything okay?”

Peter coughs, scratching the back of his neck, before his gaze lands on Ned in a challenging glare. “DUDE. Not cool.”

Poor Ned looks as confused as ever, his jaw dropping, brows pinching together as he glances between the two. “I—What—what are you talking about?”

Peter narrows his eyes even more. 

“Did I hear something break?” MJ asks carefully, as not to seem too suspicious. 

He startles at her voice, sputtering out a response that mostly sounds like the macaroni glue art of sentences. “Oh—uh—no. It—It was the—the laptop. There was—a thing. And—I just kinda—threw it.” He laughs nervously. “It’s fine though. Not—not broken. All good—” He throws some finger guns. “—in the hood.”

Her lips twist as she nods. 

Peter nods back, hands in his back pockets as he starts to retreat back into his room—though not before throwing another I’m watching you glare at Ned. 

As soon as the door clicks shut, Ned’s in full interrogation mode. 

“MJ, what did you do?”

She shrugs, toying with the loose thread of her hoodie. “Nothing much. Just… Set his default homepage to some porn. No biggie.”

Ned’s jaw drops, thoroughly scandalized, but there’s a hint of amusement behind his eyes. “Dude… That’s evil.”

Michelle gives another shrug. 

So, her second plan had failed. Even after surprise-porn, Peter’s still in the running. He’s still holding out. Almost a two days into November, and he is surviving, a surprise to everyone involved, and already, MJ’s running out of ideas. Well, good—plausible ideas. There are plenty of ways she’s sure she could compromise him. Take him to a strip-club maybe, but there’s not a doubt in her mind that he’d be able to pick up on what she was doing. There’s no way he’d fall for it. 

Hiring an escort was definitely out of the question. 

Theoretically, both of those could work. Were they good plans? No. Absolutely not. 

He’s already turned down a previous hook-up. He broke his laptop out of the sheer panic that seeing porn brought him. 

There doesn’t seem to be much more that she can do. 

It’s not until the next day, as she’s walking the clothing section of Target with Felicia that she’s struck with an idea. 

Felicia specifically striking her with said idea. 

They’re in the middle of the sleepwear section, MJ mindlessly rifling through the fuzzy sock bin, when she nearly collides with the underwear display. She’s distracted for a moment, wondering if it’s too soon since she’s bought new underwear to justify taking advantage of the sale, when Felicia nudges her with her elbow. 

“Peter’s really into pretty underwear,” she says as if they’re not in the middle of Target. As if there’s not a mom and two kids in the actual pajama section two displays over. 

Michelle recoils slightly, startled. “What?” 

“He’s like, really into it,” she says, taking a casual sip of her iced coffee, reaching over to pick up a particularly lacy number. “Just saying. Might be useful.”

For some reason, MJ feels a strange heat rise to her cheeks. “I’m not gonna put these on for him!”

Felicia smirks, holding a hand up in defense. “Who said anything about you wearing it? You can just… leave it lying around for him to find, or something.” She tilts her head to the side, both brows raising. “Jeez, MJ.”

“Oh…” Michelle says, though her face still burns. “Right.” 

It’s not a bad idea. In fact, it’s pretty good. If Peter’s as into fancy underwear as Felicia says he is, then maybe leaving them around like some kind of weird scavenger hunt is the best plan. She doesn’t buy much, picking a pair of relatively cheap lace and polyester. She could use her own underwear for this, but… that would be weird right?

(As if this isn’t weird enough already.)

And besides, the ones she’s buying are a little more extra in that department. They aren’t meant to be worn for long, not from comfort. 

They’re perfect. 

She feels like some kind of underwear fairy, planting them somewhere in the apartment, making sure they’re hidden, yet visible in a place that Peter frequents; it sticks up between the couch cushions, not subtle in the slightest. The second Peter’s butt hits that couch, he’ll see them. There’s no other way around it. 

It becomes another waiting game as she sits in the living chair, knees curled into her chest as she pretends to read quietly. It’s pretend because she can’t focus long enough on any single letter to let her brain absorb anything on the pages. Finally, the front door opens. Peter greets her with a cheery smile, making immediately for the kitchen. 

Good. Yes. He gets his after class snack. Important. 

Just as she’d planned. 

He emerges not two minutes later, bag of cheese crackers in hand as he launches himself over the back of the couch. “‘Sup?” he asks after shoving a mouthful of Cheez-its into his face. 

Michelle wrinkles her nose, her eyes unconsciously darting between the guy on the couch and the panties peeking out from the cushions. “Reading,” she offers, brandishing the very unread book.

Peter nods, tearing his gaze from hers after a beat and reaching for the remote. When he sits back, his hand brushes the cheap lace and he pauses, curious as he looks down to see what he touched. 

All of this while MJ desperately pretends not to notice. 

When he picks the pair up though, his brows pinch together, at first unsure as to what he’s actually looking at. “Uh…” 

At that, MJ looks up, seeing right as the realization sets in. 

Of course, she plays dumb—by staying silent. 

Peter quickly looks to her, eyes wide as if he’s seen a ghost. “It’s—it’s not—these aren’t—” His lips press together as he forces a breath through his nose. “I—Oh god—”

And then, for a split-second, she feels the slightest bit guilty. Is this actually a good plan or is she just tricking him into getting a boner over cheap department store undies? That, and is she technically lying to him by not claiming the offending undergarments? By making him freak out over nothing?

He seems to be having some sort of existential crisis, wondering if these really are from some recent hook-up and the psychological effect of not nutting in three days has caused him to forget. 

This was a terrible idea.

She has to put him out of his misery. 

“Oh, shit. Those—” Her laugh is breathy, short. “—Those are mine.” 

And instantly, Peter drops the thong, as if his hands had been burned. “Oh!” he coughs, his gaze straining as if he’s trying to keep his eyes on her face. “S—Sorry.” He swallows.

“Yeah.” Rising on legs that are shaky—from sitting so oddly in the chair for so long—she goes to snatch up the baby pink lace, clutching it behind her back before Peter can get another look. “Sorry. Must’ve forgot. Uh, when I did… Laundry.”

Peter nods, breathing out a chuckle. “Yeah. Yeah. S’fine.” He waves her off, scratching the back of his neck. 

But even after that, Peter still seems off. For some reason, he still doesn’t seem to be able to look at her for more than a split-second. He doesn’t say anything else, sitting in silence, his cheese crackers long forgotten on the coffee table. 

Michelle wonders if she should say something else. Break the tension. It’s awkward, obviously, because he feels weird about touching his friend’s underwear. Anyone would, really. He touched something that theoretically would be on her body; something that normally, he thinks is really sexy, or whatever. 

After another minute of some good old soul-crushing silence, Peter stands, excusing himself to his room without another word. 

Huh. Weird.

--

It’s the movie night that finally gives her that clarity she’s been looking for; that moment where everything clicks into place, and she can finally see how she’s going to win this. 

Ned’s out with Betty, leaving her and Peter alone not for the first time. 

She and Peter are sitting on the couch together, her head resting on his shoulder—because that’s what friends do, obviously—the two of them sharing a gray fuzzy blanket. This is a normal occurrence. They’re close enough in their friendship that some occasional cuddling isn’t too weird. Especially given how chilly it’s been lately. And, it’s comfy. Just some nice head-to-shoulder contact. 

But later in the movie, when MJ starts to get dangerously sleepy, feeling herself drooping further and further, unable to completely pull herself back to reality. Things are fuzzy, almost dreamlike, as she just pulls herself up from his shoulder, giving up entirely on watching the movie and just grumpily laying down right on his lap, his thigh her make-shift pillow.

This isn’t weird. 

It’s normal.

She’s sleepy.

And Peter’s a surprisingly comfy pillow.

Peter doesn’t even have time to ask what she’s doing before she’s just nestling further into his lap. She misses the pure dread and panic that flashes across his face when her head lines up with his head. There’s no safety here. Just a few wrong movements, and she’ll definitely know what’s up. She’ll be an unwitting tourist to Boner City, population: one. 

Peter has to do something. He can’t let this continue. Having his best friends head just straight up on his crotch is not helpful in the slightest. 

“MJ,” he gently nudges her, grimacing slightly when she just burrows further into him. 

He nudges her again, and she grumbles, finally opening her eyes and looking up at him. She puts a hand on his thigh to steady herself. 

Peter swallows. 

“What?” She asks, not opening her eyes.

“I uh—” Peter can’t seem to speak, trying desperately to come up with some excuse as to why he has to get the fuck out of there. “—I gotta pee.”

She cracks an eye open skeptically. “But I’m comfy,” she emphasizes her point by—once again—snuggling her face into his lap. 

Peter’s about to lose his damn mind. 

In MJ’s defense, this had started with the best intentions. She truly was just wanting to lay down and sleep on her friends lap—again, a perfectly normal thing—but now… even through the haze of sleep, she’s seeing how much this is effecting him. 

It hadn’t occurred to her until now, that she could be the one that makes him “crack.” They’re just friends. Sure, she thinks he’s attractive, and yeah, maybe she’s had the one or two or three sexy dreams about him before (even some soft, fluffy ones), but that doesn’t mean she thinks about him in that way. 

He's just Peter.

Sweet, adorable, kinda hot Peter.

Again, she doesn't think about him that way.

But she supposes it makes sense. Really, she should have known before putting her head on his crotch that he might get a little flustered from the proximity, that it might remind him of certain things. It's just the body's physiological reaction to a stimulus; the stimulus being her head. It's simple science.

So then, it would also only make sense for her to take advantage of that physiological response she's able to get out of him. Maybe not right at this second, given she's been a little blindsided by this whole thing. But maybe now she can rethink her gameplan. Now she has access to tools she didn't know she had access to before.

Her own sensuality.

She can certainly use that.

And it's not as if she'll do anything too out there. Just... make him feel the heat—the pressure—just a little bit. Make him sweat.

Felicia's of course delighted by this development, giving her full support in "seducing Parker into busting a nut."

(Her words, not MJ's.)

She'd also said something about how it's about time, but that'd been promptly ignored—mainly because MJ didn't know what the hell Felicia was talking about.

The problem is now, though, Michelle's not exactly sure where to start. After Peter had made a dead sprint to the bathroom the night before, he's been a little more, shall we say, cautious, around her. He bounces on his feet, trying desperately to appear casual, acting as if nothing was weird about their movie night.

She only has three days left in the week, so she has to think.

And fast.

--

Peter's not sure if MJ's up to something, but he can't help but feel as though she's acting... strange. First, the underwear thing, which made him feel all kinds of flustered and weird, and then her head being dangerously close to his dick. It's a lot. She can't possibly know about this No Nut thing, right? She wasn't there, and Ned wouldn't have told her... right?

Still, he tries to avoid her as much as he can, ready to fly away the second she's in the same room as him.

Truthfully, he's always had maybe the tiniest crush on his best friend. It's faded in and out over the years, especially in their college years. But it's always been there, even if just the ghost of one. And now, he's starting to see maybe how bad of an idea this was in the first place—No Nut November. His roommate is literally probably the prettiest person in the world and he's being constantly reminded of the one thing he definitely should not be thinking about under any circumstances if he wants to win. It's a disaster that should have never happened in the first place. This could have been prevented, he thinks.

He's not sure how he didn't think about that when he'd agreed to do this.

He just knows that he has to do something, though he's not sure what.

But any and all ideas of how to protect himself instantly leave his mind, crashing his brain, when he comes back to the apartment the next day to find it sweltering. He looks at the thermostat, thoroughly confused to find the heater set to eighty. He peels off his jacket, recoiling when the humid air sticks to his skin. It's hot. Too hot. Even for early November. It's not that cold outside.

He's about to call out for his roommates when MJ emerges from her room, and he feels like he has to pick his jaw up from the floor.

Her shorts are too short for it being fall. They show too much of her legs for his eyes to not be immediately drawn to them. Her white tank top is tight against her skin, hugging her form in a way that almost makes him jealous. And then, it's almost too much, too dangerous, when he can very clearly tell that she's apparently decided to forgo a bra for the evening.

"Oh, hey Pete!" She says, as if she's not looking like that.

"Hey—hey. Em..." He clears his throat.

Dear God. It's been less than a week. Hold it together.

"Is it..." Peter swallows. "Is it hot in here? The—the heat? Is it—is it on?"

MJ's eyes widen a fraction.

"Oh, yeah. It is," she replies casually. "Is that okay? I was just a little cold."

"So you turn it up to—" Peter stops, craning his neck to look at the thermostat on the wall. "—eighty-two?"

She glances left and right, as if there's nothing wrong with that temperature whatsoever. "Yeah," she says with a nonchalant shrug, her lips tugging into a frown. After a beat, she lets out a faint snort, apparently finding something particularly funny, before turning to the fridge. She opens the freezer, sighing as the cool air hits her face.

Peter doesn't realize he's staring as she reaches in, pulling out a box from the top shelf. When he sees what's in the box, he knows that his doom is near. It's bright, colorful. It's popsicles. He has to leave immediately if he knows what's good for him, if he has any sense of sanity left. She grabs a crinkling wrapper from inside the box, casually whipping it out. She holds one out to him.

"Want one?" She offers.

Peter can only shake his head, swallowing a near-silent, voice-cracking, "Nope."

And it's at this point, as she shuts the freezer door, as she starts peeling the wrapper off the way-too-phallic popsicle, that he knows he should run. It's not safe here.

But he's frozen in place, trying to burn his gaze into the intricacies of the granite countertops, tapping his fingers in an erratic rhythm.

He's an idiot, for sure, because he looks up at exactly the wrong time, right as she wraps her lips around the tip of the pop, her eyes meeting his for a fraction of a second.

How can it only be eighty-two in here? 

Thankfully, he gains some sense, tearing himself away from the counter and going over to actually turn down the thermostat. "Is it okay if I—" He coughs. "—Turn this back down?"

"Sure." MJ doesn't stop him. She wets her lips, hiding her satisfied smirk by taking the popsicle deeper into her mouth.

But again, he makes the fatal mistake of looking at her again, because now... well, now she's just messing with him. She has to be.

No one eats a popsicle like that.

When he thinks it can't get worse, she has the fucking audacity to hum as she pushes it further into her mouth. "This is so good," she says, half-way a moan.

Who actually says that about a fucking popsicle?

It's evil, truly it is, because it makes him imagine her swirling her tongue around it inside her mouth, and suddenly, the tightness in his pants gets even more uncomfortable.

He hurries to somewhere else in the kitchen, pouring himself a nice glass of water. It's still too hot in here. MJ sidesteps him easily, still inappropriately eating—sucking off—her popsicle. And he nearly chokes, because as his eyes meet hers again, she takes the damn thing out of her mouth—he thinks he's safe, but oh no—she slips her tongue out, licking a long stripe up the base, swirling it around the tip before taking it into her mouth again.

"What?" She asks—she fucking asks—when he can't look away.

And unsurprisingly, Peter can't speak. Can't even get a single syllable out.

"Is my tongue red?" She asks, sticking said tongue out that was just seconds before all over the popsicle.

"I'm gonna go hop in the shower," Peter spits out, dropping his water in the sink and making a mad dash to the bathroom, not waiting for a response.

A shower is what he needs right now.

A nice, cold shower.

He needs to take a deep breath. Think of not sexy things. Things that don't make his life out to be a bad porno.

Then, he needs to leave. Hide in the forest. Live among the trees, away from temptation, until November is over. Only then can he be at peace.

That's it!

Trees. Nature. Forests. Cold. Snow. MJ in the snow. Kissing MJ in the snow—NO.

NO.

He slams the bathroom door, leaning back against it. He heaves out a shaky sigh, running a hand over his face in frustration. How he can possibly survive the rest of the month, he has no idea.

MJ has to be messing with him, right? There’s absolutely no way in hell she’s not doing this on purpose. And why? Why is she torturing him like this? What has Peter ever done in his life to deserve this torment? It isn’t fair. 

No matter how desperately he wants to take care of the not-so-little problem in his jeans, he holds himself back, clenching every muscle in his body as he switches on a very cold shower. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to will the image of Michelle—his best friend and roommate—eating a popsicle out of his mind. It has absolutely no right to be there. 

And still, as Peter stands under the stream of freezing water, letting it run down his back and front as he holds himself up with one hand, he can’t help but think that the worst is yet to come. That somehow, someway, MJ would top simulating a blow job on an ice pop. He doesn’t know how she’d do it, but he knows it’s coming. 

He must be ready. 

--

Not to MJ’s surprise, Peter avoids her the rest of the day. He keeps his head down, not daring to even glance up at her as he walks past. Weirdly enough, this is a good sign. It confirms her hypothesis that her actions can have some sort of an effect on him. It helps her to know what to do next. 

And, well…

She’d be lying if she said it weren’t at least a little bit thrilling. 

There’s something deep inside her that finds all of this so interesting, so amusing. She wants to know how far she can go, how hard she can push before he cracks under the pressure. And the fact that it’s her that has all this power over him—it’s certainly a revelation. 

But still, even if this is “fun,” she can be professional about this. She would never let it get “too far,” whatever that would be. No, the goal here isn’t to seduce her way into Peter’s pants, but to seduce him—innocently—enough that he just does it to himself. 

Her next plan might be a little more unfair, a little more direct, and perhaps a little more daring than the last one. 

And—she should add—much more difficult than she had anticipated. 

For one, she just can’t seem to get the right angle, holding her phone above her body, making sure to get both the underside of her breasts—a tasteful amount of boob, thank you very much—and the same cheap, pretty pink undies she bought from Target. It’s awkward, tilting and twisting her phone, her thumb just barely reaching the shutter button. The first few shots aren’t anything to be particularly proud of. Too blurry, her arm cramping up from holding the camera up so long. This isn’t something she’s really done before, given she’s never seen the appeal. Why send pics when you could just, you know, show them the real thing? 

But for some reason, it makes her heart climb into her throat, makes her face almost unbearably warm. 

It’s when she changes her positioning on her bed, finding some nice light filtering in from the early evening sun. Golden hour has always proven to be exceptionally kind to her. She finds a decent pose, covering both breasts with her forearm, arching her back, making sure to get that perfect “booty tooch” that would make Tyra proud. She breathes out in an attempt to cool her heated nerves, parting her lips in a way that’s sure to incite some kind of reaction. 

Click. 

And then, she’s got the shot. 

Okay, technically it’s not a nude, but there’s something about the idea of sending this picture to Peter of all people that gets her stomach twisting in knots. 

And as her hand hovers over the send button, her heart hammers in her chest, hesitation holding her still. She takes her bottom lip in her teeth, beginning to wonder if this is the best idea. Her plan had been to send the picture, play it off as some kind of mistake, and hope that he goes to… take care of himself. Sure, it might get a reaction out of Peter—one big enough that causes him to give up this whole no nut thing—but it almost feels as if she’s crossing some kind of line. 

Miming a blow job on a popsicle was one thing—one that she can’t decide if she’s proud of or not. That was just a performance. It wasn’t something she was doing to Peter. This—sending him a racy picture when he’s literally in the next room—is a direct interference. 

Plus, there’s no telling what this would do to their friendship. It could ruin everything. Catastrophically. 

Awkward would be an understatement. 

She puts her phone face down on the mattress, avoiding the picture all together, before getting up and pulling on one of her comfy robes. 

God, all of this was a terrible idea. 

Wallowing in her own self-pity and regret, she flops back down onto the bed, grabbing her phone with the intention of deleting the picture once and for all. It’s still there in the text conversation, just waiting to be sent. She scoffs, shaking her head at herself, only for her heart to stop in her chest when—in her frazzled state—she hits “send” instead of that little “x.”

“SHIT.” 

No no no no no NONONONONO.

She drops her phone immediately, wrapping her robe tighter around herself as she scrambles for her bedroom door, nearly tripping over her rug in the process. 

Peter’s sitting on the couch, blissfully unaware, when his phone pings. And to Michelle’s utter horror, he picks it up. 

“NO!” MJ shouts, jumping on top of him. It’s a futile attempt really, seeing as her best friend—she stupidly forgets—is an actual superhero. 

Peter yelps as she pushes him down into the couch, tumbling onto the floor, holding his phone away from her grabby hands as she straddles his hips. “What the fuck—” And while he could push her off of him with a ridiculous amount of ease, he stills, becoming suddenly aware of their precarious position. 

“Gimme your phone!” Her voice comes out in a half-plea, half-demand. All panic. 

Peter still holds it away from her, his own brand of panic flashing across his features when his other hand naturally falls at her hip. He yanks it away, instead holding her back by the shoulder. “Why?”

It’s also then that he sees what she’s wearing—or rather, what she isn’t wearing. 

And in his distraction, Michelle snatches his phone, instinctively throwing it across the room. She winces apologetically when he looks up at her, jaw dropped and brow wrinkled. 

“What the hell, MJ—”

“—I’m sorry! I panicked!”

“Why?!”

“I—”

It’s then, as they both stare at each other in shock, that they both realize the position they’re in—but neither of them seem to be able to move away, frozen solid on the living room floor. 

Peter can feel his heart beating relentlessly in his ears, his throat suddenly going dry when he notices how tightly Michelle’s thighs are holding him in place. Another problem starts to arise when he sees how her cotton robe is pooled around their aligned hips, his eyes catching the sliver of shiny pink underwear when one side falls back. “What—” He clears his throat, his voice coming out uncharacteristically breathy. “—What was on my… my phone?”

“Uh—” She presses her lips together. “A picture.”

Peter’s gaze drifts lower for a split second, dipping to the exposed dip in her chest, drawn to the rise and fall with each breath. “Of?” 

“Me?”

“You?”

MJ breathes out a laugh, glancing down. “I, uh—accidentally sent… You a picture. Well—I meant to send it to you, not that like, it wasn’t for you, but I kinda decided not to send it… and then… I did. Accidentally.” 

And even though he’s trying everything in his power to keep his eyes on her face, he can’t help the way they seem to travel lower and lower with each second. He’s confused at first, but then, it hits him, like a train, what exactly that picture was. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

The air crackles between them, static in their ears. Michelle finds her own gaze drifting lower, lingering on his parted lips, a warmth pooling in the pit of her stomach. She shifts slightly, her breath catching as she suddenly feels the hardness pressing into the inside of her thigh. Peter stares up at her, something in his eyes bringing her closer, inch by inch. The warmth and weight of both of his hands tentatively, slowly moving to her waist causes something to ignite within her, and in a split-second, her lips are on his. 

Michelle’s surprised to find herself… well—surprised—at how this kiss doesn’t immediately turn into an all tongue-and-teeth, ripping-eachother’s-clothes-off kiss. It’s sweet. Slow and tender—as if the two of them are savoring it. Nothing like she’d expected Peter to be capable of. Nothing like how he’d painted himself to be from all of his hook-up stories. 

And she’s not entirely sure who’s “fault” it is when it turns into more. 

It could be the way she’s subtly grinding her hips against his, her body alight with the friction. 

It could be how his tongue swipes over her bottom lip, innocently at first. 

It could be her soft, breathy whines as one of his hands moves lower to cup her ass, pulling her closer, the new angle against his hardness bringing an indescribable feeling. 

And then again, it could be her robe starting to fall off her shoulders—she’s not sure who starts that, but all of a sudden she’s feeling cool air on her skin. 

She almost smiles into the kiss, thinking about how easily and quickly this “chaste” kiss had shifted. 

And it’s immediately after that thought that she snaps out of it. 

“Wait!” She says, pulling back and sitting up—but still staying in Peter’s lap. Before this can go any further, she has to tell him the truth. He has to be able to… back out of it. 

Where this sudden sense of generosity’s come from, she has no idea. 

He follows, sitting up with her, brows creasing, his expression a concoction of worry and panic. “Oh, fuck. I’m so sorry—”

“No!” She puts a hand on his shoulder after fixing her robe. Her thumb smooths over the fabric of his shirt. “No. It’s… fine. I just…” Surprisingly, she finds herself chuckling, unable to bite back her smile as he looks at her with concern. 

“What is it, Em?” 

It’s the nickname for her nickname that does it for her. Truly. 

“You good?” He asks, wincing as she shifts in his lap again. 

“Yeah, uh—” She coughs, trying unsuccessfully to hide the way her lips are twitching violently as she fights her smile. It takes her more than a few moments, the deep breaths she’s taking not doing all that much to help mask the humor in her tone. “—I know about No Nut November.” 

At first, Peter’s confused, staring back at her with furrowed brows, his mouth in a cute little ‘o’. He tries to play dumb, maybe thinking that he can get away with one final attempt to save his pride—letting out a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his neck, he shrugs. “Yeah, my new diet. Crazy, huh?”

She blinks, blankly staring at him. “Peter.” There’s some amusement there, especially as she pointedly glances down to their current position. 

“What?” He asks dumbly. 

“Ned told me.”

Peter curses, wincing. “Damn it, Ned.”

“Yeah…” In a strange, very unwelcome bout of insecurity, Michelle removes her hands from Peter’s shoulders, twiddling her fingers together in front of her. “I made him tell me… and I kinda… also made him let me in on the bet.”

His eyes nearly bug out of his head. “What?!”

“We kinda made our own bet that like… If you lasted less than a week, I would get all the money.”

“You didn’t think I’d last a week?” Peter almost takes offense at that, even if there’s merit to her prediction. “Damn, MJ…”

“I mean… I also wanted to win. So… I kinda tried—or I guess have been trying… to sabotage you?” 

At that, his jaw drops. “No! Wait—You—What? I—” He stammers like that, his brain short-circuiting as she still watches from his lap. “That was—what? The porn? On my laptop?”

MJ nods, grimacing. 

“The… underwear? Just in the couch?” 

“Yeah…”

“And you were gonna…” He looks down at her, the cotton robe still just barely tied around her—the journey his eyes make also coinciding with his mouth going dry once again. “...That picture you took…?”

She nods again, looking down at her hands. 

“Putting your head on my lap?!” He asks, as if he of all people is scandalized. 

“That wasn’t part of the plan. That was kinda what helped me figure out that… I could just… do it myself.” 

“Oh my God,” he puts a hand on his face. “The popsicle. The fucking popsicle.”

“That was probably my best work, honestly.”

“That was so cruel.” 

And when he laughs, his eyes crinkling, she starts to see that maybe this will all be okay, and a sense of relief fills her chest. “Yeah, sorry. I also had Felicia help.” 

“You put her up to that?!” 

“Nah. She offered. I felt kinda weird about it—” She says the last part without realizing it, immediately shutting her mouth. 

“That’s why I said no,” Peter replies. 

It’s Michelle’s turn to be surprised. “What? Really? I thought it was just ‘cause you were so dedicated to this whole no nut thing.”

“I mean, yeah, I was but—” He laughs, reaching a hand up to smooth the curls at the base of his neck. “—I just… felt weird about it. With you guys being friends and all.” 

The way MJ’s heart flutters is strange, but not entirely unwelcome. “Why would that be weird?”

“Why did you think it’d be weird?” He throws back, his lips twisting into a curious grin. 

And not for the first time when talking to Peter, Michelle feels all knowledge of the English language leave her body. It’s strange, how much confidence she can have while literally dry-humping him on the living room floor, but how scared she can be trying to explain something about how she feels. 

She only shrugs. 

A beat passes, and still, Michelle can’t bring herself to move. 

“So…” Peter draws out after another moment. “All that—” he clears his throat. “—stuff… that was just to win that bet?” 

“Well, I mean—yeah?” The look of hurt on his face makes her heart lurch in her chest. She’s quick to correct herself. “But—I… I think maybe that could be a good thing.” 

His brows raise in careful curiosity, though he still seems apprehensive. “A good thing?” He asks slowly. 

Michelle nods, swallowing. “Uh—Yeah. ‘Cause… If I hadn’t then I wouldn’t have figured out that—um… I might—” It’s weird, how frustrating it is that she can’t seem to find the words she wants to say, that her brain seems to have completely abandoned her in her greatest, most dire time of need. And this shouldn’t be this hard. She’s an adult. She’s in her third year of college. 

Confessing the feelings that you’ve just realized you have for your best friend since high school should be easy right?

Right?

And she’s only just figured this out. In the last five seconds. That all these years of weird feelings, long glances, warm faces has actually lead to something, they’ve actually meant something other than a weird stomach bug or whatever. 

All it took was attempted sabotage during No Nut November for her to realize that. 

The power it has. 

“MJ?”

His voice grabs her attention; the caution in his tone snapping her gaze to his. And for a moment, she just looks at him, mouth hanging open as she tries to say something, anything. But still, she can’t.

So, she does the next best thing. 

She kisses him—again—trying her best to put all of the words she can’t seem to figure out into it. And although he kisses her back—easily—he doesn’t seem to understand what she means, because he pulls away not ten seconds later. 

“Listen—MJ—” Peter stammers, running a jittery hand through his hair as he breathes out a huff of laughter. “—I don’t think I can do—” He gestures between the two of them. “—This… if it’s just… casual.” 

So, he really didn’t get it, and now, she’s feeling the impatience creeping up her neck. 

“I really like you, MJ,” he confesses, and for a moment, she’s not sure if she heard him right, or if she heard him speak at all. Her brain must be playing some nasty, cold-hearted trick on her, because Peter—perpetually single and ready to mingle Peter—just said that he liked her. 

God, she feels like she’s a teenager again. It feels so high school, the amount of butterflies in her stomach hearing him say that. 

Even more so when she finds herself responding automatically, “I really like you, too.”

“Cool,” he says lamely, his breathless chuckle making her heart flutter in her chest. 

He doesn’t waste another second before he tugs her back to him, capturing her lips to his, one of his hands moving to cup the underside of her jaw. She tilts her head, letting out a gentle sigh as he deepens the kiss. His tongue brushes against her lips before slipping into her mouth. The weight of his other hand on her waist is comforting in a way, heavy and solid as he holds her in place. 

Truly, she hadn’t expected any of her plans from earlier in the week to come to this. 

Instinctively, her hand snakes down to his hips, sliding underneath the hem of his t-shirt and dragging across his stomach, smiling into the kiss as his muscles twitch underneath her touch. It’s then, as her hand dips even lower, palming him over his sweats that he seems to snap out of whatever trance she put him in. 

He grabs her wrist—gently, of course—pulling it away and breaking the kiss. 

His chest is heaving with each breath, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in an apologetic smile. “I—I can’t—the… the bet.”

And it dawns on Michelle then, that she’s been cockblocked by No Nut November. 

Even though she tries to appear understanding, he must be able to see the disappointment in the twist of her lips, the way she nods quietly. 

“But—” He starts, pressing his mouth together into a thin line. He nudges her, pointing his finger as he’s hit with a revelation, talking slowly. “—You’re not… doing… No Nut November…”

MJ lets out a surprised laugh, shifting in his lap as her face warms even more. A beat passes as she stares at him, giving him a chance to take it back. “Are you sure?” She finally asks.

Peter nods quickly, insistently. He’s got this. Clearly. “Oh. Yeah. Definitely. I’ll be fine.”

Yeah, she’s not sure how much of that she actually believes. 

Probably none of it. 

But, that doesn’t mean she’s turning down the offer. 

“Okay…” She trails off, unable to bite back her grin at the brief self-doubt that flashes across his features. “What do you—what do you wanna do?” She asks, her face burning, suddenly finding herself the slightest bit tongue tied. It takes everything in her to at least look calm and not like she’s about a half-second away from just jumping his bones. 

Or, one in particular. 

Peter clears his throat, the tips of his ears turning an adorable shade of red. “Uh—” He huffs out a laugh. “I mean… Whatever you’re comfortable with? I’m cool with whatever you want.”

He’s cool. Okay. Yeah. 

She shifts her weight again, biting back a smirk when he inhales sharply as she brushes against the hardness in his gray sweats. “Sorry.” Feeling merciful, Michelle climbs off of his lap, sitting back against the couch, curling her legs underneath her. “Any ideas?” 

Though, Peter can’t seem to tell if he’s happy with this new development or not—as hard as it was having her sitting on him. “Um—” And his expression tells her that he does have one. “I could…” He coughs again. “I could go down on you?”

It’s funny, how casually he says it, like he’s offering to give her a ride to the airport, or something. But it still makes her ears ring. 

“Yeah,” she says, nodding slowly. She swallows. “That sounds—that sounds good.”

“We should probably—” He gestures to his bedroom door, huffing out a laugh. “—not do this out here.” 

“Probably,” she snorts. 

The speed at which he scrambles to stand and runs to his bedroom, compared to her somewhat-leisurely pace, makes her let out the most undignified laugh. 

A silence falls between them as he shuts the door, the click echoing. MJ takes a moment to glance around his room—literally a single moment, because in the next he’s wrapping his arm around her waist, yanking her to him and crashing his lips to hers. His hands are greedy, twisting handfuls of the soft fabric of her robe, finding purchase on her ass and grinding her against his hardness. 

MJ revels in the groan he lets out as she melts into him, her hands winding themselves in his soft curls, twisting and tugging ever so slightly. 

He guides her to the bed, pausing to gently lay her back on the mattress before crawling over her, his mouth finding itself on the underside of her jaw, his lips and tongue dragging along the column of her throat. With one hand, he prises her legs apart, happily settling between them while his other fumbles with the tie of her robe. 

His eyes meet hers first, silently asking for permission, before pulling the thick string back. His eyes darken as Michelle helps him slip the robe back, leaving her almost completely bare underneath him. He unconsciously wets his lips as his eyes hungrily rake over the expanse of her body—he feels as if the only accurate description for how he feels at this moment being a deer caught in really well-defined headlights. 

She thinks for a moment that he’s just going to do this—stare at her—instead of, well, what he said he’d do. 

But he doesn’t seem to have that kind of patience. He lurches forward, his mouth hot on her neck, trailing open-mouthed, wet kisses down to her collarbone, her sternum, the swell of her right breast. 

She bites back a gasp as he takes her nipple into his mouth, her back arching off the bed as his tongue swirls around it, palming the other with his hand. It’s a sight to see for sure, Peter’s head on her chest, his curls tickling her skin.

His trail continues, back to the dip in her chest, lower and lower, his kisses hot on her stomach, down to her hips, the lace trim of her thong.

Peter sits back on his heels, breathless as he looks down at her. “Fuck—” He curses, drawn to the damp patch in the middle of the soft faux-satin, how it clings to her. 

He doesn’t give it another second, hooking his thumbs around the lace and roughly pulling them off of her legs. 

He’s diving his head down in the next instant, his lips leaving scorching kisses on the inside of her thighs. He thinks that he can maybe tease her, trying to slow his pace as he gets closer and closer to where she wants him to be. 

(Okay, it’s where he wants to be, too.)

He pulls back a little, trying not to smile too much at the disappointed edge in her shuddering sigh. As much as his mouth waters with her so close to him, he controls himself. Kind of. To a degree. He takes a finger, experimentally teasing her entrance, his sweats—somehow—tightening at Michelle’s quiet gasp as he touches her. There, he collects her wetness, coating his finger in her arousal, swirling it over her cunt, around her clit. And he sits there, marveling at how impossibly wet she is already. 

Though, it’s not long, probably less than a minute, before his impatience kicks in again. 

He thinks he might actually die if he doesn’t eat her out. 

Dramatic? Maybe. 

Valid?

Who’s to say?

But he can’t help himself, and any thought about slowing down is thrown out the window as he licks a long stripe up her center, his eyes rolling back as he tastes her. He dives right back in, his tongue circling her entrance, lapping her up. 

And Michelle can’t help but notice how at home he looks between her legs, how in his element he is as he moves to start sucking on her clit, flicking it back and forth with his tongue as he teases her with two fingers. 

His eyes meet hers and she wonders how on earth she’s going to survive this, especially when those two fingers push into her, curling as he pumps them in and out. 

“Shit—Peter!” She cries, her back fully lifting off the mattress as he picks up his pace, moaning against her. 

Clearly he’s enjoying this, too. 

A choked gasp slips from her lips when he slows suddenly, his eyes locking with hers again before picking back up even harder and faster than before. She reaches down, tangling her hand in his messy curls, holding him in just that right spot. Her thighs try to close on him, trapping him in as the coil in her tightens, but his free hand grips her, holding her in place. And she can’t fight the way her hips buck against him as she begins to grind herself against his face. 

It builds and builds, teetering just on that beautiful edge, when Peter adds a third finger—and then, she’s seeing stars, her brain going fuzzy as all of her muscles tense, electricity shooting from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She comes with a strangled moan, panting as her body’s overcome with pleasure. 

Peter’s movements slow, and he pulls off of her sensitive clit, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm, before taking each finger into his mouth, sucking them clean. 

MJ sits up on her elbows, her chest heaving with each breath as she watches him—and at that moment, her eyes drawn to the hard line in his sweats, she curses No Nut November again, because honestly, she’s never wanted him to fuck her more, never been so angry at a single month.

He seems to be in the same fire, his expression wrought with the inner turmoil he feels. His eyes screw shut, and he pinches the bridge of his nose, trying desperately to ignore how painfully hard he is, how he can feel his dick pulsing already, and how stupidly hot and beautiful MJ is. 

His decision’s made before he opens his eyes. 

Michelle lets out a surprised yelp as he leaps on top of her, his mouth on hers before she can start laughing. Somehow, his hands are greedier as they explore her body, squeezing and kneading her breasts, her waist, her hips, down to her ass. 

None of that’s to say that she’s complaining, though. Peter just ate her out like it was his full-time job, like he was stopping crime as Spider-Man. As far as she’s concerned, he can do whatever he wants right now. 

It’s when he starts to take his sweats—and boxers—off that she gets confused, if not a little too hopeful. 

“What about the bet?” She asks breathlessly when he pulls back.

He holds her gaze, his lips curving into a sly grin. “Fuck the bet.”

If there’s a god, Michelle wants to thank her right now. 

Peter’s hands grip her thighs, his fingers digging into her skin as he wraps them around his waist. He takes his dick in his hand, pumping a few times, swiping it down her center, tapping her clit, before Michelle suddenly remembers to use their one collective brain cell. 

“Wait—” she gasps. “Condom.”

Peter curses under his breath, hanging his head for a moment, biting his lip. “Yeah. Yeah. You’re right.” 

If she thought he was fast running to the bedroom, watching him scramble through his bedside drawers looking for a rubber is something else. A giggle—a fucking giggle—bubbles up out of her at his relief when he finds one. 

He rolls it on quickly, expertly, days of No Nut November clearly not slowing him down. 

He’s back on her in the next second, eager as he gathers her arousal and coating himself with it. 

They both let out a string of curses as he pushes into her—finally. Peter screws his eyes shut, taking a shuddering breath as he feels how warm and snug she is around him, almost unable to believe how well she fits him. MJ grips his shoulder, face burning as he gives her a moment to adjust, a moment to take all of him in. 

When he starts to move, they both wonder again why they hadn’t been doing this in the first place. 

As with everything else, Peter doesn’t waste their time. Even though he revels in how fucking amazing she feels around him, how he can’t even remember the last time this felt so good, so right, he picks up a steady pace, fucking into her like it’s the last chance he’ll get. He hikes her leg higher on his waist, the new, deeper angle causing Michelle to arch her back, a wet moan ripping through her. 

“Peter—” She chants his name over and over, unable to say anything else as his hips snap into hers. “Fuck—”

“God, MJ, you’re so fucking good,” his voice is almost a growl, lower and more desperate than he’s ever sounded. “Taking me so well.”

Michelle should’ve guessed he was one for dirty talk, though she can’t say she’s surprised. 

Or that she minds. 

Peter bites back a groan, stilling momentarily as she clenches around him, burying his face in the crook of her neck. He’s already so close, teetering just on the edge, but he’s filled with a sense of determination at the sting of her nails digging into his shoulders. 

His hand trails down her stomach, his thumb pressing her clit, scrubbing furiously as he pumps in and out of her. She squeezes him again, head thrown back, slack-jawed as he tilts her hips even further, the new angle causing a string of curses to spill from her lips. Her muscles spasm around him as she comes for a second time, her eyes screwed shut as she clings to him for dear life. His own orgasm crashes over him, and he moans loudly into her skin, holding her to him , fingers digging into her hips as he comes undone. 

It’s something MJ can’t help but want to see again. And again. 

He flops down on top of her, his head on her chest as he struggles to catch his breath. 

Her hand comes to smooth down his curls at the nape of his neck, and she smiles as he shifts his head to look up at her. 

“God, fuck No Nut November,” He breathes into her skin. 

A light laugh bubbles up out of her. 

He lets out a heavy sigh. “What day is it?” He asks.

“November fifth.” 

He groans, squeezing his eyes shut. “Damn.” He pulls out of her, standing up to throw the condom away, almost missing the bin in the corner of the room. 

“You made it longer than I thought you would,” Michelle laughs.

Peter flops down next to her, his eyes narrowed, though there’s still a smile on his face. “What?” 

“Well, yeah. I bet Ned that you wouldn’t last a week,” she replies, patting him on the chest as she gets up, disappearing into the bathroom. 

Peter’s eyes widen before he covers them with his hands. “Oh. Shit. Ned.”

He’s still there when she comes back; still naked, too. 

“Ned, doesn’t have to know,” MJ says, falling back into the bed with him. 

Peter peeks out from underneath his arm. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. We can like, pretend you’re still doing it.”

There’s a crooked grin on Peter’s face as he stares at her—a look that makes her insides gooey and heart fuzzy. 

And she hates how much she doesn’t hate it. 

“And when Betty inevitably breaks Ned,” she shrugs. “We can split the money.”

He shakes his head, amazed and somewhat scandalized. “MJ, you’re a genius.”

Again, she shrugs. 

“So, we can keep doing—” He gestures between them, brows raised. “—And let Ned lose. The money’s ours.”

“Right.”

He lamely sticks his hand out, offering for her to shake on it.

“Deal?” He asks.

She kisses him. “Deal.”

[bean-pole-art]

Ed’s Borderlands Fics Masterpost

well finally

here is the masterpost of all of my Borderlands fics posted. most of them are Rhysothy focused to various AUs. I’m gonna update it as I post more but here it is, along with some of my commentary

right from the start big big BIG shoutout to @spoks-illogical-art​, my partner in crime, my biggest inspo, without them honestly most of these fics wouldn’t exist, please check out their amazing art <3

(latest edit - 21/02/2021)

Atlas AU - our main timeline, follows events of Moxxi’s Heist. lots of different concepts and ideas but the core really is Tim moving to Promethea to get help from Rhys. gonna sort em here with posting date, check the ao3 series for the “timeline”

Hypothetically - 2240 words summary: Rhys talks a lot, but usually thinks about it too little.

coffee, cats & monographs - 2880 words summary: “Hey hey, easy. You don’t want to repeat the accident from last week, do you?” Rhys cooed towards the cat and picked her up, just as Timothy instructed him to. Hearing these words, Felicity meowed. “Oh, don’t say that. This is my office and I have the power here,” he answered, carrying her back to his personal space.

Or Timothy's cat pays a visit to Rhys' office in the morning. note: I am a stupid mofo and at this point Tim would also have Loader Bot fkjbfd just imagine hes not mentioned cause hes wandering off, typical LB

Have Faith - 1470 words summary: During the 7 year lockdown at the Handsome Jackpot, Timothy couldn't really have any hope for himself. But maybe on Promethea it could be different. note: sudden feelings while watching JoltzDude139′s stream

Warm Cheeks, Cold Hands - 1170 words summary: Rhys comes home early and wants to say hi to his husband. With no ulterior motive. None at all. note: first fic Ive ever posted where characters are married, actually. fuck it, Rhysothy Real, his name is Rhys Lawrence

the battle (and the aftermath) of the ages - 2970 words summary: In a situation like this everything was possible, they could pull any punches they could think of. Four beasts playing against each other, every single one of them thinking of striking the winning blow.

Or Promethea Squad plays UNO. And then watches a movie. note: I love Promethea Squad with my whole heart

okurimono (贈り物) - 4/4, 17170 words summary: “Not a bomb. Just a device with a message for Rhys. Trust me on that,” this time an emoji of both winking and showing off a tongue [;P] appeared on the surface of Zer0’s helmet. Ah. So they were definitely trying to mess him up. In a way. Unfortunately, he really didn’t have any other options. Almost with a defeat, Timothy took the ECHOrecorder right from their hands and looked around it again. Or Zer0 gives Timothy a peculiar mission. note: my first ever multichapter fic. took me legit abt 8 months to finish but I am absolutely satisfied with this. also the bonus ending. yes

(there is) something I see in you - 8690 words summary: How one Rhys Strongfork met one Timothy Lawrence and how they fell for each other. More or less. note: best to go into this one blind, I swear. dumbest fic Ive ever written and please take this as a recommendation

this world is gonna pull through - 14380 words summary: Timothy really hoped it wasn’t anything important. He had that tendency to forget things easily, even if he tried to fight it. But Rhys kept on smiling and went by his side. So it couldn’t have been that bad. Still dumbfounded, he felt Rhys leaving a kiss right on his cheek.“November 11th? 

That- That seriously doesn’t ring any bells?” Rhys continued, brushing his hands against his shoulders. Or how Timothy spent one of his birthdays. note: also a love letter for Tim but a nicer one I guess kdjfnb dont ask how old is he i have no gdamn idea man

Strawberry Sweet - 3560 words summary: Rhys surprises Timothy with a gift for their date night in.

Happy Mercenary Day, Mr. Lawrence - 4670 words summary: How Timothy spent his first Mercenary Day on Promethea. note: I swear this is the best writer night Ive ever had. Ive written this whole thing in one night on Christmas day, solely on the inspo of that song I linked

Don’t Go Wasting Your Emotion - 4/4, 17080 words summary:  Afterwards, he went around with his usual duties. Getting a quick roundabout from his PA, checking several sectors himself and looking through the thousands of messages already sent to him via ECHOs. Rhys was ready to finally take on the day, yet when he made his way to the office, he saw the unusual envelope right by the edge of his desk. “For Rhys” was written on it. Straightforward enough. Or Rhys gets a letter from a secret admirer. note: another multichapter fic!! this one also took some time and well. its inspired by ABBA songs. cause only I would write a Rhysothy fic inspired by ABBA

Ratchet Effect - 7130 words summary: Knowing just how much overworked Rhys has been, Timothy wants to let them have a nice getaway in Lazy River Land. There's only one problem to overcome - ratch infestation. note: first fic of 2021!! Ive been playing a lot of bl3 suring the writing of it so it has a lot of stuff I had observed both on Promethea and on Jackpot

Reflections - 2250 words summary: Sometimes, Timothy needs a reminder.

Tales AU - second most important timeline. it’s Tales but Tim is a part of the group. sorted chronologically

A Story For Another Day - ongoing, for now -  2/25, 15280 words Tales AU main fic. it’s gonna be a big one

Connection Interrupted - 3240 words summary: With his driving shift finished, Timothy checks up on Rhys and Vaughn's plans.

Completely Hopeless - 1040 words summary: In which Fiona notices that Rhys behaves differently in front of a certain doppelganger.

infinity times infinity times infinity - 3460 words summary: Rhys and Timothy share some dreams and secrets underneath the stars. note: the beautiful combination of Sleeping At Last and Minecraft parodies. I promise it makes sense

reality can be whatever I want - 11420 words summary: “Hey, Tim?” Timothy didn’t even spare him a look, “Are we alone, or is he there with you?” Oh, this definitely won’t be pretty.

After the confession of Handsome Jack's AI in his head and his plan to infiltrate Helios, Rhys needs to set things right with Timothy. Somehow. note: thanosdancing.gif to Backstreet Boys’ “I Want It That Way” 80′s remix and a guest appearance from Ferocity but I cant legally say her name here

still here - 2820 words summary: It all had to go down, after Helios crashed. note: I have...a love/hate relationship with this one kjdfbfg I like it but it’s honestly an alternate ending and doesnt fit within our usual bad ending, so take it with a grain of salt. i ten jebany błąd językowy w summary, kiedy ja go poprawię

together at last - 5590 words summary: It all struck him down in an instant, in this one minute. They were all safe. And they were all alive. Nothing was threatening neither him, nor Timothy, nor Fiona. He could finally breathe out.

They all found each other again. note: I am multitasking most time of my life but I dont relate any other fic to multitasking more than this one. I was honestly doing 10 things at once while writing this dfkjbndf

David AU - this one is a sub AU to Tales AU and the plot is kind of complicated dfjkbfb please check the fic for further explanation

building in curved lines - 22490 words summary: “To be fair, you look terrible. You’re barely standing in one piece and none of your coffees will hold you together for that long,” Lilith paused, seemingly weighing the correct words in her head. “You haven’t really been holding on since… We rescued The Double.” Rhys sighed heavily. Why did she have to be so right about everything. Or how Rhys and Timothy adjust to the reality after the Handsome Jack AI. note: bday gift for Spok, EASILY one of my absolute faves and the longest fic Ive written thus far

outside of AUs - some concepts I play with that are honestly outside any of our concrete timelines/concepts + fics not focused on Rhysothy

Real - 770 words summary: Reconciling with your past is a little easier, when you have someone you love right in your arms. note: first blands fic I’ve ever written. the characterization isn’t really there yet but as a first shot at the game and my kind of “introduction”, I am still satisfied of it

(Un)Familiar Faces - 9620 words summary: Timothy pursed his lips and leaned over the wall a little. He’s had enough of this solitude of closed doppelganger cabinet. Today wasn’t the day for another self-loathing session. Today, he should go off on Helios and do something for himself.

Or Timothy spends the night at a Helios bar. But not as Handsome Jack. And not as Timothy Lawrence either. note: personal favorite of mine, tough love letter to Timothy Lawrence. I have so many fond memories of writing this, including getting drunk out of my mind just like Tim and Rhys here

basics of survival - 2010 words summary: Athena taught Timothy everything he needed to know about survival. Now, it was time to put these skills into use. note: wrote this right before rona outbreak on last day in my dorms. thats all

[just-anka]

I realised I haven’t really regularly posted here since like... I don’t even know, September? It’s been a while, anyway. A lot happened, and I now feel like actually writing a post for the first time in a while, so here goes haha. The first bullet point is entirely work waffle so feel free to skip. Apologies in advance for the fact that this post will probably reach novel length by the time I’m done. 

• I took a week off in late September before Ben started his new job so we could go to the mountains for a bit, and it was a much-needed little break from work. And pretty much right after I got back, work got completely mental - nothing bad as such, just one thing after the other, loads of deadlines, so many important things. First I was finishing up data for a paper (first authorship was being debated which is partially why I threw myself into the job so much, but it looks like it’ll be the PhD student before me’s now, which is how it should be tbh, it’s much more hers than it is mine), then the date for my first committee meeting was set and I suddenly had only two weeks to prepare (did not think it was going to be that short notice, whoops, had a very stressful two weeks but all went well - for us, this meeting means presenting our research plan and preliminary data to a committee of four professors so they can give you input, it’s not suuuper formal but still pretty stressful), then I had to write the report for that (I love writing so that one was okay), then there was suddenly a lot to do for a really important cooperation with a company (big money responsibility which stressed me the fuck out), and then, just as I thought I was pretty much done for the year, I realised I needed my lab book up to date for my end of year meeting with my PI (which wouldn’t be such a big deal, except I didn’t have a lab book at the time. Never got around to starting one. So nine months of lab book were written within another very stressful week). Whew. Even writing this out makes me feel like that was a lot haha. 

• After the end of year discussion, I really was done for the year - I officially worked until the 23rd but there was not that much actual work happening, and with the pressure off after months, I properly crashed for a few days. Ben left for England on the weekend after to see his family for christmas etc, and I spent most of that weekend sleeping and doing very little. It was needed. Then my mum came to visit me for the holidays and we had four really lovely days together, also involving a lot of chilling (the only actual thing we did was that magical winter hike that I posted some pictures of the other day). 

• And now I’m skiing! I was planning to go to England as well for NYE to see Ben’s family, but with the corona situation escalating again lately I decided it was too risky for just a few days. So I made a last-minute plan to go skiing by myself instead, because all that involves is a 2 hour train journey. I’m actually staying in a hotel too, which I’ve never done by myself before, I’m usually a dorm in a hostel type of person, but well. Covid has changed a lot of things :D trying to stay safe and away from people, which is of course not entirely possible in a ski resort, but it’s going okay. The skiing itself is great, it’s really nice having some time to go at my own pace and a few days in a row. Today was day 4 and I’ve really found my groove again (more on that later). There’s not much snow though so not many off-pisteing opportunities :/ I’m staying until Monday and then it’s back to work on Wednesday. 

• Speaking of skiing, we’ve got season passes this year, my first season and Ben’s second. We’ve just been doing on the weekends so far - since the 21st of November I just realised while looking back in my calendar! That’s one hell of an early season start haha. We did just one day three weekends and then one full weekend right before Ben left. The first few days were bloody hard. For context, I learned to ski before I learned to walk and loved it as a child, then stopped for a few years because I felt like I wasn’t progressing anymore and was getting bored with it, basically. Then last January I went to France with Ben and his skiing friends and got introduced to freeriding and the idea of ski touring, and now I’m back to loving it haha. I’d ideally like to not have to resort ski anymore at one point (meaning touring) because I know it’s terrible from an environmental standpoint but... idk. It’s currently my only option, and I love it a lot, so I guess it feels okay? Anyway, since I learned to ski so early, it’s the one sport that I’ve always been pretty good at and like, never get scared, at least not on piste. Until this year. The first three individual days were just all kind of horrible, the conditions weren’t ideal with very hard surface and tons of ice and pretty busy slopes, and only steep terrain open as well (Engelberg, our “home” resort - we have a season pass that encompasses a bunch of resorts so we’re not limited to one - is literally dead flat beginner’s slopes, which weren’t open in the beginning, or red runs that should be black and black lol). Pairing loads of ice with my old skis which barely have an edge anymore was... not ideal. I was so scared constantly and it made me like I lost all my ability etc etc. But yeah, turns out I just needed a few days and some easier conditions to get back into it, and now ice and steep stuff and everything is fine again. Who would’ve thought. (a sensible person, probably). 

• But then, the full weekend we skied in December was awesome! Saturday already felt much better and then it snowed a bunch over night and Sunday we spent all day powder skiing, basically. I learned SO much and just had an absolute ball! Definitely one of the best days skiing I’ve had, and one of the best days recently in general. 

• Plus that whole weekend was just lovely, car camping in a campsite full of huge campervans was pretty fun :D I love the looks we get when people see the car and clearly wonder where we sleep. And we’ve got our setup perfected for winter now so both the nights were toasty. Friday night we had dinner in “bed” watching a movie, and Saturday night we sat in the little kitchen (the campsite has it open for everyone, but everyone else there has a camper, so it doesn’t seem to be used much) drinking tea and playing cards and ahh. Camping in the mountains. My ideal life eh? (though the weekend before this wonderful one, we got snowed in because it dumped over a metre over night completely unexpectedly and that was stressful as hell, but I think that’s a story for another day, if ever, I’m kind of trying to forget that day :’D) 

• Yesterday I also finally took the plunge and ordered new skis. Been debating for ages which ones to get but I’ve finally decided and I’m now very excited! 

• Ok this post so far reads as “work and skiing” which is pretty much what November and December were and probably what January is going to be too haha. Ben and I want to ski another week together end of January as well, and there’s some big exciting work things coming up as well. 

• Even though I have to admit, now that I’m on a break, I’ve spent a lot of time dreading work and questioning my career choices and all of that lark... sigh. I love my job most of the time, but I kind of hate having a job? If that makes sense? Sometimes (okay a lot of the time) I just wish I had more time for other things that I care about. But I also now I’m lucky to have that job, especially this year, and lucky to have a job I don’t hate, and get to do a lot of fun stuff on the side, even if it often means little sleep and downtime. 

• Speaking of things I care about, I was on a proper roll with writing for a few days before and after Christmas. It’s ebbed off again a bit, but it was still pretty cool, and my totally-useless-all-cheese-project is now 33,000+ words long and like, half-way there story wise. Had a lot of fun with that. 

• Lastly, Ben is still in England, and he’s coming back next Sunday, and I can’t wait! I miss him so much when we’re not together it’s actually silly. Although it’s less stressful this time than the last few times because... we live together, his work just offered him an unlimited contract from January, and I’m stuck here for another 2-3 years, so it looks like we’ll actually get to be in the same place for now. Which is all I wished for last year, and I’m so damn grateful - that stability really is the best thing 2020 has brought for me. And, as he said, even though we were apart for the start of the new year, it will hopefully bring more time together than any previous year ♡

• Okay I think this is long enough now, if you actually made it until here you’re a hero and I will try and post a bit more regularly again now to avoid this size of mind dump :’D I hope you all got into the new year alright, it feels very strange to me that it’s 2021 because I actually slept through midnight on new year’s for the first time since I was tiny haha but I’m sure a lot of people feel the same way! 

[muffinrecord]

I'm currently writing a post for r/HobbyDrama (a subreddit where people discuss, well, hobby drama) on the downfall of Magia Record NA. Is there anything you think I should add? I'm writing about the unrest that led up to the announcement (such as #NATempo and constant limited banners), the failure of Gallery Mode, and the devs' refusal to refund money.

I was wondering if anyone write anything there! Oh man. Where to start?

First off, someone did a short summary of the drama here, in one of the weekly scuffles threads. I commented on this don’t judge me pls.

I think some things to mention might be that MagiReco NA had a lot going wrong for it, right off the bat. It was region locked (so folks outside of North America had to use VPNS and/or cracked APKs to play*) and the pacing was very fast, which put a lot of potential players off. If you want an example of the pacing, then even I, an unemployed fuckwad, would have to frantically play to clear shops. The game’s release also had very little in the way of advertisements-- a lot of folks didn’t realize the game had even started until several months had passed. 

(*Edit from a helpful anon: As a Brit, I just want to clarify that we did not need a VPN to open the game/start an account to play on NA! (Nor JP, actually.) We only needed the VPN to download the game from Google Play in the first place. Once we had it, we could ditch the VPN if we so wished.”)

But not all was bad. The Devs did actually listen to the playerbase early on! After lots of whining, the devs implemented a change to daily missions after the Kazumi event, which gave us extra mirrors coins and AP pots to compensate for the faster pace. The Devs also handled The Great Rainbow Orb bug with a lot of class (didn’t ban anyone for taking advantage of it, gave magia stones to good players, ect). In fact, around this time last year we had a special event made for us (Thanksgiving) (which had its own drama lol), Black Friday Sales, and the announcement of NA-exclusive Ashley Taylor. 

That being said, I think November was also the time when things started to go wrong. You can see the list of events here, but we got “FM Kamihama” on November 5th, when folks were expecting it to occur in April (since it was an April Fools event, and since the game would keep events locked to their respectively holidays) . After that, we had another limited banner-- this time it was “Magia Clash!”, which no one expected this early. I mean, a lot of folks weren’t even sure if we’d get it since it was a crossover, but no one thought it’d be out so soon. You can see @leafbladie‘s post here about it as an example. We had jokes about NA Tempo before, but November is when we really started to ramp up on the unpredictability of the tempo, and not just the speed.

Additionally, other strange stuff was afoot. Mayu’s event, “Wait You Got it Wrong” was done out of order and finally started November 25th, which was really late in the schedule compared to when Mayu came out for JP. I wonder if they did that as a breathing period so we could spend more money for the upcoming limited events? 

Then when December started, we had the clusterfuck of Holy Mami and Holy Alina being released back to back. Unfortunately I don’t have screenshots of the google doc, but back then we were all religiously watching it to see what was datamined. Here’s a link to a post I made on it (not great). Something hilarious of note here is that these fools scheduled two back to back limited Christmas banners for December... But they ended on the 24th. On Christmas Day we had a Homura uncap + training event. :’)

Edit: also, I forgot, but Holy Alina was released so early that they had to lock her personal story since it would have spoiled plot stuff. And on this vein, they also had to edit Magia Clash since it had spoiler characters in it. However... I think Magia Clash was way overtuned for us, because it was made for a more mature playerbase with better characters than what we all had.

The back-to-back New Years events were less controversial as we all were kind of expecting it to happen because of Christmas. But I don’t think we expected the absolute flurry of limited banners about to head our way.

Another fuckery thing they did was have all of the limited spinoff banners rerun on February 3rd to February 9th. Why is this important? Well, fucking Madokami was released on February 25th. Sneaky bastards. And speaking of which, no one was expecting her then. Some folks thought she’d be out for Christmas, then it was mostly thought that she’d be out for our first anniversary (a few folks thought she’d be out for Thanksgiving to take advantage of Black Friday sales, but they were less common).

Another note for the weird AF NA tempo would be the time they did the opposite of speed and extended an unlimited event-- for Sayuki Steps Up. It was longer for us than it was for JP! I still don’t know what was up with that. 

Uhh let’s see here... Our One Year Anniversary was missing so much stuff (rerun of previous limited banners, chance to buy missing costumes, costume stories for example) that a lot of people, including myself, believed that they were going to do an Anniversary Part Two on JP’s anniversary date. So much so that we were all confused as fuck when “A New Beginning,” the game’s second anniversary event, came and ended before the JP anniversary even started. When Hanna’s banner came out, there were still folks convinced that we’d get something special for the JP anniversary (also: this is when Iroha’s Birthday is said to occur). But they didn’t do shit. They didn’t acknowledge it in game, and the most we got was a brief shoutout on twitter that was likely automated. 

Going back to “A New Beginning,” we were missing a whole half of the event. There was supposed to be a series of days where you’d get login stories. We never got that-- fans had to translate it and upload it to youtube for us to see it for ourselves. 

There was also the Bonus Ticket Campaign for the 400th anniversary-- lots of missing memoria were added to the game at that time. These memoria are unlimited on JP, but they were limited for us, and the devs didn’t tell us that. We all assumed that they would be unlimited for us too, until they were gone.

Another thing to note would be the revenue. Now, these aren’t entirely accurate I think, but they were of note: I think the worst dip for revenue occurred during the “See You Tomorrow” event, and you can see the reddit discussion for it here.

Regarding money, this game allowed you to still spend magia stones after the shutdown announcement. There was a scheduled time for when they’d no longer let you buy stuff, but it was still tacky and gross.

What else to note...

I think that’s about all I can think of at this moment, but feel free to reach out if you need anything else. I wasn’t always good about reblogging others’ content during the November - April time period, but I might have some reblogs of memes and other coping mechanisms we all came up with at that time. I can look for them so you don’t need to search this wretched blog by yourself :’)

[authenticcadence18]

30 Questions About Me

THANKS FOR THE TAG @bugaboo-n-bananoir ILY!!!!

(Nick)name: Cadence

gender: cis female

Star sign: Pisces

Height: uhhhhh I am not sure, it’s taller than 5ft at least

Time: night! (Well I wrote most of this last night, but now it’s the evening of the next day!)

Birthday: well I’m a Pisces, so my birthday is between Feb 19th and march 20th!

Fave band/group: Pentatonix! Or For King and Country. Or the piano guys, the vitamin string quartet, Voctave.....also Phineas and the Ferbtones👌

Fave solo artists: I really like Lauren Daigle, and Jackie Evancho used to be my FAVE. Aaand idk if this counts but Michael Giacchino! love his scores, especially the score for Inside Out. There’s also this guy called Clay Kramer on YouTube who makes KK Slider covers of popular music, his stuff gives me so much seratonin😅

Song Stuck in my Head: Well I’m listening to music rn and “I’m Me” from Phineas and Ferb is on so I’ll say that! (I’ll revisit this one when I finish the list and update it with whatever song i’m listening to/is stuck in my head then) (ok the music has since been turned off and now I have “Status Quo” from High School Musical stuck in my head so! There ya go!) (now it is the next day, and I’ve got “when the party’s over” stuck in my head...i think these three songs are an accurate reflection of my taste in music🤣)

Last Movie: uhhhhh oh yeah, The Sorcerer’s Apprentice! It was SO GREAT because Jay Baruchel plays the main character (and the main character is super awkward), so I felt like I was watching Hiccup from the How To Train Your Dragon franchise learn magic and it was GLORIOUS. And also Nicholas Cage is great. And I liked the love interest in the movie as well!! She had a role to play in the story and felt authentic and genuine, which I appreciated!

Last Show: ok well the last show I watched by myself was Phineas and Ferb! Specifically, the episode with the Mardi Gras block party and then the one where Candace and Stacy compete in an obstacle course against Isabella and Ginger (omg wAIT ginger and Stacy are sisters and Isabella and Candace are GOING to be sisters mY HEART I—AH🥺). I hadn’t watched those episodes in forever, so they were really fun to revisit! I think the last actual show I watched was Kids Baking Championship or something, lol. (Those kids are AMAZING. So skilled!)

When i created this blog: November 2019! It was riiiight after the season 3 finale of miraculous aired and absolutely wrecked my emotions. I had some fanfic written that I’d never posted and had been thinking about making a tumblr/ao3 for awhile, and seeing the finale made me finally go, “.....you know what, yeah. The finale is aired, no more spoilers.....it’s time to make a blog.” So I did! And I posted my first fic! And I’m so happy i did :)

What Do I Post: a bunch of multi fandom stuff XD. This blog started off as 90% Miraculous, 10% other fandoms I like...but now it’s just kind of a hodgepoge of my favorite fandoms (with a focus on Phineas and Ferb, lol). I reblog a lot of posts, and then I post original stuff too! I write fanfic, nowadays for Phineas and Ferb but for Miraculous in the past (and probably in the future!), I draw art (mostly Phinabella art because I’ve been drawing them since i was 11 and it feels good to return to my roots), and OCCASIONALLY I will write an analysis post (I’ve got one in the works rn actually 👀), attempt to make a meme, or dip my toe into salt just SLIGHTLY before quickly backing away, lol. If I were to list the fandoms I post about in the order of how frequently I post about them, I’d probably say: Phineas and Ferb, Miraculous....and thennnnn everything else is pretty random and depends on the day, lol.

Last thing i googled: Jay Baruchel 😂. Couldn’t remember how to spell his last name!

Other blogs: this is my only blog! Sometimes I think about making a separate blog for my art and writing, but I am not sure if I should or not....maybe I will someday, but idk. I also have an AO3 for fanfic and an Instagram for art! All are under the name “authenticcadence18.”

Do I get asks: sometimes, yeah!! Sometimes I reblog ask games/prompts and get some asks for those (I’ve got so many prompts in my inbox I want to write/draw things for...ah it’s fine, I’ll get to it eventually😅), and sometimes lovely people will leave thoughts or nice messages in my inbox🥺💕. I’ve got a specific tag for all those nice messages so I can read back over them whenever I need a boost!

Why this url: it’s a music pun! When a song/section of a piece of music ends with a dominant chord resolving to a tonic chord (if you’ve read a certain fic of mine you should know allll about dominant and tonic chords👀🤣), it’s called an authentic cadence! There are different kinds of cadences, and authentic ones are my favorite. One example of this is “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.” I also use this blog to be my authentic, fandom-loving self! So I like authentic cadences, and also, I’m Cadence and using this blog to be authentic! Woo! (And 18 is just my favorite number, lol) I’m glad I ended up choosing a name that doesn’t tie to a specific fandom becaaaaaause this ended up being a multi fandom blog!

Following: 232!!

Followers: 292!!! (THANKS SO MUCH Y’ALL ILY 💕)

Average amount of sleep: wellllll for the past week and a half I was sick so I was probably getting 9ish hours a night (because I would sleep in really late, lol). but NOW? In my immediate future? I suspect my average amount of sleep is going to go down because I’m really bad about staying up late even when I have to get up early😅. Hoping to be good about getting at least 7ish hours a night!

Lucky number: 18! But y’all probably already guessed that, lol.

Instruments: my voice, piano, ukulele, viola (but it’s been a HOT minute), aaaand i used to be able to play guitar but then I got a ukulele and forgot all the guitar chords. (I also dabble in songwriting! I primarily use voice and piano when writing music.)

What I’m wearing: my favorite sweatshirt (that was last night, rn I have on a tanktop), some leggings, and socks!

Dream job: I’m currently learning to be a teacher, and I LOVE teaching and working with kids so that is definitely a job I’m really excited about!!! I would also love to portray characters at Disney or something (well, maybe not at Disney because I hear they’re strict, but like....I want to be Rapunzel or Anna or something, that would be so fun). OR, I would LOVE to work in tv animation somehow, be it voice acting, writing scripts/music, and/or story boarding. basically if I could do what Dan and Swampy did for Phineas and Ferb/Milo Murphy’s Law, I would LOVE THAT. (Especially the writing music part. Getting to write music for established characters and get PAID for it would be SO COOL.!.!.!) Also I think it would be so fun to write Disney storybooks! Like, those books that are about Cinderella baking a cake or Ariel befriending a seahorse, stuff like that. Those brought me a ton of joy as a child!

Dream trip: I want to visit alllll the Disney parks someday😅. (Not right now because, ya know, Covid...but someday!)

Fave food: uhhh i really like pizza. And popcorn. Also hummus and guacamole!

nationality: American

Fave songs: “Times” by Tenth Avenue North; “Can’t Help Falling in Love” (I made an entire playlist of just this song when I first started writing my fic of the same name, so I like the original and a ton of covers of it!), “Show Yourself” from Frozen II, “What Might Have Been” from Phineas and Ferb (and lots of other songs from that show, i made a whole post about that once but I can’t find it, oof); “Rescue” by Lauren Daigle; “Thank You” by Pentatonix; “I See the Light” from Tangled; “Your Hands” by JJ Heller; “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran.....i like a loooot of songs so this is just the tip of the iceberg, but I think that’s good for now, LOL! (As soon as I post this I’m going to remember another song I love, lol)

last book: I got the book Unbirthday for Christmas! It’s basically Disney’s Alice in Wonderland, but if she’d never gone to wonderland and things went horribly wrong there. (I think, I’m not that far into it yet, lol)

Top 3 fictional universes I’d love to live in: 1. DANVILLE, PLS. Especially as a kid, I SO would’ve loved to hang out with Isabella and Phineas and the rest of the gang! Danville is so vibrant and unique and people are always randomly breaking into song there, that’s my kind of place! 2. Fairytopia (from the Barbie movies!) because I could be a fairy OR a mermaid OR BOTH and eat seeweed to breathe underwater even if I wasn’t a mermaid. Like, that’s the dream right there. (I’ve always loved mermaids and fairies, lol!) 3. Maybe San Fransokyo from Big Hero 6? All of the technology in that universe is really cool! And I would love to eat a noodle burger, lol .

Oh! That’s the last one! Wow! This was so FUN!!!!!!! Thanks again for the tag, Maddy!!!! :)

I’ll taaaag @sketchy-panda @macaronsforchat @simplynewyorkbound @inkjackets and anyone else who’d like to do this! (And pls don’t feel pressured to play at all, or answer all of the questions! I was definitely vague with a few of my answers, lol)

[mor-beck-more-problems]

The Best Little Pit-Stops in Texas || Morgan & Deirdre

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @deathduty & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Morgan shows Deirdre her old haunts in Houston. You really can’t go home again, but sometimes you leave good behind.

CONTAINS: Houston vibes, softness

When the El Real Mexican Restaurant built itself out of an old two screen movie house, they’d kept the neon marquis intact, equal parts nostalgia and kitsch. In college, when Morgan was wringing out a day’s worth of food from $10 tacos al carbon and endless chips, she had enjoyed making a point of admiring the puns and jokes posted under the neon lights: We’re jalapeno these spicy tostadas! We’re nacho kidding, $5 margs when you order new loaded nachos! When Morgan brought Deirdre there on their second night in town, it read: In Queso You Didn’t Know: Closing Dec 26. We’ll cilantro you again someday. Guess you really couldn’t go home again. “And here I thought it was packed because it’s a local institution,” she mumbled.

They parked across the street between a Half Price Books and a Jack in the Box. Houston was still twilight blue at six o’clock, and she could see the shift changes at the local eateries: aprons going up, textbooks and phones coming out. In the other parking lots in sight and on the eating patios of other restaurants, clubbers strolling for a bite to coat their stomachs before hitting the streets and rainbow flags dangling limp and content from shop windows. Morgan slid into Deirdre’s side as they picked their way along the crawling traffic. She had envied those young people so much, almost in tears with how badly she wanted to be a part of them. She would never know what it was like to be that young and alive and free. But with the woman she loved pressed close, she felt a piece of what she had been aching for. It wasn’t their stuff, or even their numbers, though she did miss knowing that she had enough people who cared about her to fill a room. It was something else, something like the love they grew between each other, but not quite. “I would bring girls out here and get them to buy me entrees I could take home to refrigerate. Even if nothing came of it besides a kiss or an hour fumbling around, it was nice to have a hot dinner I wouldn’t have to cook later. And we were pretty safe out here. Girls didn’t get the same kinds of looks as guys, and this part of town is designated as the gayborhood. As long as you weren’t walking alone and looking obvious, it was fine for me. I’d cover the cheap drinks, obviously. Sometimes with magic counterfeit money but--” she put her finger to her lips. “And if things were going really bad, I could pretend to be really riveted by whatever they were screening up on the wall.” Morgan pointed, in case the projection was getting lost in the organized chaos of evening rush. “Besides having the best tacos for your buck, it was a good spot my dad liked to take me to. Not when it was like this, but when the place first opened and the lunch special had everything even cheaper and we could pass by all the fancy shopping centers on the way home. We can too, it’s really close to the hotel, actually. This time of year everything is decked out in the most incredible lights. It’s like something out of a movie. Anyways--” she smiled thin, not sure what she was trying to get at with all this local geography discourse, “It’s only fair I bring my actual best girl here, while it still exists.” She did feel a little hollow, knowing this would be the only time they were going to be here. None of her childhood homes were still standing, and the apartments she had lived in weren’t worth driving to as far as she could reckon. What else was left of the place she’d been bound to for most of her life but these transient commercial spaces? Morgan frowned as they were seated and the chip bowl was put in front of them. Despite not feeling the November warmth, she had been too preoccupied with her family drama to brood over her life being over completely. Here or anywhere else. What was she planning on doing here besides playing tour guide to her old shadows? Morgan reached for Deirdre’s hand, trying to get a read for how she felt about being here. “How are you doing…?” She asked.

Deirdre’s eyes raked over a labyrinth of people. She didn’t like crowds, usually; noisy, chaotic things. It was a sea to get lost in, a force to feel small under. But there was one tiny delight in that. She could watch the humans flutter about their lives; she would know them, their fear, and happiness and anger, and they would never notice her. All her life, she had been stuck as the observer. Though it was not a role she chose, it was one that suited her. For all the charm that rolled naturally off her tongue, there sat her own fears and insecurities, inscrutable to the fellow watcher. Things changed when she met Morgan, and she wasn’t so much a shell floating through the lives around her as she was someone living for once. “I’ve never really been to a Mexican restaurant before,” she explained on the walk there, “I’ve never really been anywhere, I suppose.” And she hoped that in the quiet of her voice, Morgan would realize just how much she’d given her. It was in that way, that despite the loss that rattled in her chest, she could summon warm smiles and enthusiastic bouts of affection. Her life began with Morgan, after all. She would not let her girlfriend’s end with old, bitter memories. For every reminder of them she could find, she held Morgan closer, kissed her longer, gripped her tighter.

The restaurant’s closing date, announced brightly with a joke in neon lights, wasn’t something she could love away.

She pressed herself firmly to Morgan. It was one part imminent closing, another part restaurant. They never visited any after Morgan’s death; Morgan couldn’t taste anything and Deirdre never ate much to begin with. And though days of stealing fries off Morgan’s plate were replaced with longer walks and frequent picnics, Deirdre wasn’t so oblivious that she didn’t know what this meant for them. What it meant for Morgan now, entering a restaurant she loved, and couldn’t enjoy fully before it would be gone forever. Though Deirdre was caught up in the spectacle of the crowd and the interior, her mind wouldn’t drift from what must have been plaguing her love. The lights above were warm-tinted, strung delicately across the old ceiling, just one scream away from littering the heads of everyone below. “Well, now I’m offended I’m not the only girl you bought drinks for with counterfeit money,” Deirdre feigned a huff, chuckling as her eyes followed where Morgan was pointing. Sure enough there was a movie playing, one she couldn’t recognize or hear, but she was mesmerized by the moving shapes beyond her anyways. Action she didn’t know the plot to, logic she had yet to unravel. There was something odd about stumbling into a movie halfway, played as a backdrop, that she couldn’t put her finger on. By the time they got their table, she still hadn’t quite figured it out. Morgan cut across the table, hand against hers, and Deirdre snapped from her daze. “How am I…” She breathed, incredulous. Then she softened, turning her hand so their fingers could intertwine. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that…?” She smiled gently. “This place is special to you, uneventful dates for free dinner aside...or perhaps, even with those. A place you came to with your father. And it’s…” Deirdre glanced around, then back at the entrance. “I could buy it back, from whoever they sold it to. I could make them keep it open. I’ve tried it before…” She turned back to Morgan. “That old antique store in my town. The place I saved up my allowance for, the place between all the pubs and houses? I tried to---well, it doesn’t matter now, I suppose. It closed. But I could save this place, if you wanted that.”

Morgan heard the quiet notes in Deirdre’s voice, a shy admittance she didn’t know how to read. Would it be better if they had some perfunctory appetizers and left? Was she overwhelmed, or unhappy? Morgan pressed Deirdre’s knuckles to her lips and scooted her chair close so they met nearly side to side in the corner. “I’m...a lot of things, but mostly fine.” She hadn’t been thinking about what it would be like to be here when she called ahead for a table, only that it was already by the Menil Art museum and the Rothko Chapel she’d shown Deirdre earlier and that whenever she thought of the Montrose area, all cramped and flourishing and safe, she always tasted the char of perfectly seasoned chicken fajita meat and the sour tang of tequila on her tongue. From here. It had seemed essential, and she’d never had a bad time there, even when she and her dad guiltily brought Ruth along for their early lunches a few times. Why wouldn’t she make room for something that had always been reliable and good? But now they were here, and Deirdre didn’t like crowds, and Morgan didn’t get anything out of the tortilla chips except crunchiness and pointy ends poking the roof of her mouth. The inside was just like she’d remembered. Rainbows of margaritas, salsas, and November ‘winter wear’ spilled all through the open eating space. The usual cowboy movies and Bonanza specials had been traded in for Christmas-y movies, even though it wasn’t even Thanksgiving yet. Morgan recognized Jimmy Stuart in The Shop Around the Corner at once. He was one of Ruth’s favorites, and this was one of the few films they had been able to agree on. It should have felt like she was falling back into old, comforting steps.

But all the workers would be out of work after Christmas. The red and green paper garland would be thrown away or sold. The building would become something else. Everyone eating here would funnel into other places, some to boring franchises, some to mom and pop places still surviving under the radar. And all the energy Morgan had shed in this place on dates and lunches and lonely comfort outings would be cut loose and aimless, a ghost of their own. And Morgan couldn’t taste anything or smell the full potency of the steaming skillets passing by or even tell how much hotter it was inside. She didn’t know who she felt more sorry for, the El Real or herself.

“You didn’t answer my question, babe,” she said gently. “If this wasn’t such a great idea in practice, there’s plenty of other places we can go and ways we can spend our evening. Or if I can do something-- I’m just checking in, and I don’t want all of this to be about me.” If not out of kindness, then for this: the more she lingered on herself, the more she felt like a ghost herself.

She softened at Deridre’s half-told story, releasing what little determined resolve she’d been holding onto. “You don’t have to do that,” she murmured. “That would be...I mean what would we even do with the place, except give it back to the old owners, I guess…” Which was a thought that did make her happy for a moment, enough that she couldn’t hide it. “I could never ask that, and it’s not like we’d get to enjoy it often…” But that wasn’t the point. The point was to let Morgan get to keep something, some place that had mattered to her. Even the schools she’d gone to were no longer standing as they once were. Was keeping it something she wanted? “Tell me more about that place of yours. I want to know, even if I can never see it. Especially because I can’t see it.”

“I’m worried about you, my love.” Deirdre replied easily, sighing with relief as Morgan scooted next to her. As soon as she could, she took Morgan’s hands in hers, firm and steady. “We haven’t really been to any restaurants since…” As her sentence trailed away, she offered a small smile, her brows furrowed with worry. “Maybe I’m just thinking about it too much. Tell me if I am, but I know how much you’ve lost in your life, and how hard things are now and I just...worry, I guess.” And it was frustrating, that they had to be seated in two separate chairs, half-blocked by a table. Al’s had booths, at least. And pie. “I’m okay. More than okay, really. I get to spend time with you, in your home, and all the places you love. I get to fill and color my understanding of you, and that’s magical to me. Knowing you always is. I’ll be okay, no matter where we go or what we do. But if I can do something for you, Morgan….” Her eyes drifted to the movie again; the action had shifted, new actors showed their faces. She knew less than she did before, and the strange, unnamed feeling crept back into her stomach. She slumped and turned back. “This doesn’t have to be about you, if you don’t want that. You know I like you…” Deirdre grinend and nudged her. “And you know I like hearing about you, but if you just want to eat some tacos and have fun, we can do that.”

In a show of good faith, Deirdre reached across and plucked a chip from the table. And then she ate it, slowly, as if it might bite her. There were a lot of things she had never tried before, and she was embarrassed that tortilla chips existed somewhere on that list. Not drenched in nacho toppings, at least. Though nachos themselves were something she only just tried this year. “These don’t taste like potato crisps, I suppose.” She swallowed, trying to dust the salt from her fingers. “We could give it to someone who wants to run it,” she offered, debating on another chip. “We could talk to the owners, talk to other people. And it isn’t really about visiting it…” Deirdre turned her attention away from the so-called “endless” chips, which seemed like they really did have an end to her, several, in fact, and looked to her girlfriend. She knew that she understood, and so she didn’t elaborate on metaphors and symbolism. “If you want that,” she whispered, “change is inevitable, I know. But sometimes you can keep something just as you knew it, just as you loved it. There’s nothing wrong with wanting that.” The story of her little store, a world of its own mysticism, was one of less hope. “It’s not interesting,” she began, “I-I told you about the old books I bought, haven’t I? The ones my mother burned. I got them from there. It was...well, I wasn’t allowed out, much or at all. But this store wasn’t so far from the farm, and yet not too close either. And the few times I had errands, I had just enough time to spare to duck inside and get lost among the trinkets. The owner never complained about seeing me there, or letting me stay.” She knew some kids who were yelled at for accused stealing, more that turned up their noses at the dust and smell. But the old man never paid her much attention, and that, she figured, was a kindness. “I never visited it much when I started highschool, but I passed it one day and noticed a sign and...I-I thought it was money problems. I stole some cash from the family--they never noticed it was gone anyway--and left it inside for the owner.” Deirdre shook her head, “he just used it to retire. Now there’s a bookstore there. It’s not a...thrilling story. Or one I like.”

Morgan bowed her head. She couldn’t bring herself to lie to Deirdre, and she wasn’t ready to say, no, I’m sad, because restaurants make me sad now, because there’s nothing for me in them and I feel awful goading you into ordering enough to make the effort of going out feel worth it. But Deirdre already knew. Maybe it was just common sense or maybe it was some deeper sense she had discovered from spending so much time with her, but Morgan was certain even hiding her face wasn’t going to fool Deirdre for a second. “Since I stopped being able to taste anything I used to, yeah,” she mumbled. Was she spoiling the evening? Was there a version of them that was already laughing and cuddling and making the most out of the tortilla chips? Watching Deirdre try one for herself almost made Morgan cry. She was trying, even with what she was carrying from the past month and a half, she was trying for her. Couldn’t Morgan try a little more too?

“You might...be right,” she admitted. “I wasn’t really thinking practically when I got the idea. And I’ve missed this place ever since I left so maybe I wasn’t even really thinking at all with my new normal brain. I’ve wanted you to see it for yourself way before I… I could’ve been more thoughtful, more careful about this.” A waiter passed by balancing three cast iron fajita skillets on his tray and Morgan imagined her mother’s disappointed face behind her, shaking her head. You know better.

She kept her fingers locked in Deirdre’s as she told her story. She didn’t speak much about her teenage years, Morgan only knew the story of the boy and his dog, her first kill, and that she took her vows at fifteen and only after was she allowed to go back to school. It seemed to Morgan like those years didn’t really exist, but had been corded and knotted around steps and demands and expectations, and Deirdre herself was tucked away somewhere, too numb and hurt to come out. But of course it wasn’t that simple. Of course she had summoned the will to be kind for someone else as long as it was a secret. She had tried, even then. “Oh, my love,” Morgan whispered. “It was still kind and worthwhile, you know that, right? You know--”

Their waiter appeared, holding his pad awkwardly, clearly torn between interrupting a moment and having to do his job. Morgan flashed him a perfunctory smile and ordered a white chocolate pina colada, the shrimp street tacos, and 2 tamales a la carte, rattling off some alterations that would make it safer for Deirdre. Then she asked for the check to be brought as soon as he had the time, even if that happened to be before the food was ready.

When he was gone, Morgan slid her arms around her girlfriend. “I’m coming up with a plan and I want to know what you think,” she said into her shoulder. “You tell me what else is bothering you, because I know there’s something. And we talk it out or we put it aside, and you tell me what you think about how everything tastes, and we don’t even have to finish if you don’t want to. And then…” She hesitated. “I know nothing is ever going to be the same for either of us, we can’t get those places or those feelings back all the way. But there is a place I had that was like yours. One that we can actually share equally. It’s a little more of a drive, but I want to show you, and be a part of it with you,  if you’re still up to it. But you tell me what’s making you sad or worry besides me first. I’m just gonna wonder anyway. How does that sound?”

“No, it’s not like that--” Deirdre groaned in annoyance at the space between them. Swiftly, she  pushed their chairs together, wooden bottoms clashing and finger pinched between them. She hissed in pain, drawing her purple fingertip to her mouth as her other hand settled for resting on Morgan’s thigh. “It’s not like that,” Deirdre repeated. “I don’t care about practical thinking or--Fates, Morgan, I was just worried about you. Of course I want to visit all the places you love, even if we can’t enjoy them together just the same as we would have some months ago. I’ve just been worried about you.” She swallowed thickly, fraught with concern. Was she thinking about it too much? Maybe it hadn’t even crossed Morgan’s mind until she brought it up. But, no, she knew her girlfriend well enough, she hoped. And how could she ignore small frowns or wilted sentences? Wasn’t this whole town just one big reminder of everything Morgan had lost? Was she okay with playing the tour guide, or did she muster the energy to walk just because Deirdre wanted to see everything? Or was it her mother; the meeting still stuck in her mind? Deirdre swallowed, and remembered that she didn’t need to be the silent thinker anymore, tasked with finding her own answers, she could ask. But the story of the stupid antique store lodged in her throat, her questions jammed under. “Probably not. He didn’t care as much about that store as I did, and he didn’t recognize me when I asked. It was a pointless endeavor and I spent months sick with guilt and worry about the money.” It would have been better if she left it, and slowly, the thought occurred to her about her questions too. Maybe Morgan didn’t want to talk about it or---

How long had that server been standing there? Deirdre shifted in her seat, she hadn’t even looked at the menu. It was by miracle, or the power of how well they knew each other, that Morgan ordered for her. Better, because she both didn’t know how to pronounce anything and didn’t know what she would be mispronouncing in the first place. As she’d learned recently, it wasn’t just acceptable to ask for the best thing on the menu, accompanied by their most expensive drinks. As he left, her eyes fell back on to the movie--in a new place, someone was crying now. Deirdre reached across and popped another chip into her mouth, shocked again by the crunch. She considered Morgan’s plan as she tried to chew respectably. “If you’d like me there, I’d love to go,” she turned to her girlfriend with a small smile, “but it’s not like that. Not for me. It doesn’t matter that I can’t steal the food off your plate while you’re gone to the toilet, or that we don’t do breakfast at Al’s anymore. That doesn’t---I miss it, in a way. But not like that. Not like you’re saying it. It’s not gone for me, it’s not lost. Time spent with you, my love, is always the most precious thing to me. It’s never so much mattered where or what we were doing, as long as you were happy, and I’m with you.” Her attention shifted back to the damned movie, and she frowned as she searched for the words to explain it better. “It’s worse for you, because you know what’s missing. Like a...movie met halfway. There’s dialogue and story and characters and I only know half of it. I’ll only ever know half of it. And the people…” She glanced around the crowd, caught in their own worlds, as humans so often were. “...don’t really care about the movie on the wall. Which is a shame, I bet they’d really get it if they watched it all the way through.” Deirdre sighed, slumped against her chair. “There is something on my mind, but it’s about you. And we don’t have to talk about you if that’s not what you want; if it’s too hard. We don’t have to do that. And it’s not like you’re making me sad, nothing like that at all. It’s just how badly I wish I could...fix it all for you.” She sniffled, suddenly aware that her eyes had begun to water and leak and she turned away to blink it gone. “Sometimes, I love you so much I cry about it, I guess.” Her laugh was shaky, and her humor weak. “Sorry, I’ll just, uh---”

“No, it was. It was still kind. It says nothing about you that it didn’t take, and everything about him, the part that’s wonderful is that you tried…” Morgan whispered, her words coming all out in a rush, slipping in before the subject closed. She fixated on Deirdre, letting everything else fade. The world released itself from her so fast, like it was always waiting to. She followed her gaze and listened to the crunch of more tortilla chips (so addictive, no matter what mood you were in), completely absorbed. Deirdre wasn’t far off and Morgan didn’t know if she was pained or relieved that the wrinkle knot on her forehead was because of her and not some cursed memory or dreadful epiphany. She was sniffing and blinking back tears of her own by the time Deirdre was doing the same. She untangled herself so she could wipe her cheek and the corner of her eyes.

“We don’t have to pretend. It’s okay,” she said softly. “And you’re right. It’s...I used to be in the movie. I was part of the story and everything was loud and close and intense, or, at least that’s how I understood it was supposed to be. Because I didn’t let myself act like anything more than a second string player in my own life because I was so cured and afraid. But even second string people get to have coffee and look at their special someone for a coat because they’re cold, and I’m just...not a part of that anymore. And that’s been true for the last—almost seven months now? But I was getting used to that in White Crest and I at least have people I’m a part of. Well, a couple, maybe—” Her mouth pulled into a grimace as she thought of Remmy and Nell. She pushed them away, this was hard enough already. “But everyone I used to have here died. The places I lived in are gone. Hell, my first elementary school is Costco now! I barely had an existence here, and yet that sad hopeful life seems so far and so much better than whatever it is I’m doing here right now. But it’s not just that. That would be easy. I could just tell you I made a stupid, terrible mistake and I want to go home. But I can’t, because I really do want you to have this. I don’t have a lot of anything, but what I do have feels special, because it’s mine, and I love you, of course I want to give you whatever I can offer. And you have been so deprived and shut away from the world, and look at you now, in the fourth largest city in America!”

The waiter returned with the drink and the food, and flourished out the check. Morgan caught it before it met the table and slid in her card, urging the young man to wrap things up.

“And you’re finally having tacos! Real Tex-mex tacos! And Christmas tamales, I don’t even know why they’re a December tradition, but they are! People look forward to getting bags of these like they look forward to those red Starbucks cups. You’re not just having everyday Houston nonsense, but something seasonal and special too. And I want you to be a part of it and I want to make it good. I didn’t really get to find out where all the good things are in the world when I was alive, but I know these places, I know when my lonely, miserable life was just a little better for having something hot and nice, and being surrounded by tables so crowded or just the right kind of sparse that I could trick myself into feeling like I belonged somewhere for an hour. I just—” She cut herself off and waited for her body to still, for her voice to loosen up again. She wouldn’t pretend to be okay when she wasn’t, but she wouldn’t make them a point of interest in a busy restaurant either. She waited, tears coming loose from her eyes. She waited some more, taking Deirdre’s hand into her lap. At last, with all the control she could muster, she confessed, “I don’t know how to explain the way I want to share all of my good here with you. I want you to be in the movie too, and I want to know where it’s the same and where it’s different, so it all becomes new. I feel like you understand what it’s like to be stuck on the outside, in the audience, a beat behind everyone else. And I want to show you something more and better than that. We deserve that, especially with how much shit is following us back home, if there’s anything left in me that can work my will into the world, I will show you that we can have more than watching from the fringes. And I need to be able to work my will somehow. I was born a witch and I need to know what I want counts for something and what I want is that. But I can’t share something I’m not a part of. And as horrible and selfish as it is, I hate feeling left behind. It shouldn’t even be possible, to be left behind in your own hometown, in a place you love. But I am dead to at least half of my tiny slice of world here, and that’s just what’s still standing. And I hate it. I’m finally brave enough to embrace everything there was around me and now it’s...it’s something I can only get through a screen and I hate it.” She paused again. Waited again. “But there might be something we can save, and share, and someone who would appreciate it. And when you were telling me that story, I just thought, if I can’t be alive or make this as good as I wanted, maybe I can at least save something with you. Something I can almost be a part of.” Her voice lilted up, watery with hope. “I like the idea that doing something outrageous and kind is something that we could do together.” She sniffled and smiled through her tears. “I don’t mean to be such a baby. We can talk about what’s on your mind, whatever you want to tell me or ask me. But you um, you should tell me if you like how anything tastes.”

Deirdre’s brows knit together with concern, brown eyes glistening at the mercy of new tears. She listened, and she nodded, and she opened and shut her mouth like a fish out of water as she tried to find the magic words to send the pain away. How was it, that for as powerful as a declaration of love was, the words ‘I love you’ could be so meager? Love was all she had, and yet, not enough. Her food had arrived, and their check taken care of, but Deirdre’s attention did not stir. She held Morgan’s hand tight, pressed the back of her knuckles to her cheek to take care of any tears, and paid no mind to her own crying. She shifted her fingers and cupped Morgan’s cheek; suddenly, the bustling world around them dissolved in her senses. She didn’t say she loved her, she didn’t want to interrupt, but she spoke it clearly with her body—from the warm gaze of her eyes right down to her legs, twitching to entangle with Morgan. “Houston is the fourth largest city in America?” She said eventually, lamely. And embarrassed by her inability to find the magic words, the restaurant rushed back into feeling and she turned to her food. She needed two hands to eat, just another way this restaurant foiled her; first the chairs, now the fork and knife. She took up the respective utensils in her hands and started cutting into the yellow rectangle on her plate. “I love you,” she looked back at Morgan as she swayed her food, “so much. A lot. The most. More than I know how to say, more than I can fathom. More than you can. Just—“ She sighed with helplessness, giving up on the food. “So, so, much. It means everything to me that you’re here, that you try, that you want to.” She dropped down the fork and knife, and wrapped her arms around Morgan, where they much preferred to be. “I wish I could do more for you.” Deirdre buried her face into her neck. “I wish I could go back in time and pluck you away from all that terribleness. I wish I could fix it now, with just the right words. I wish I could do more than love you. And I know that means a lot already, I know because your love means the world to me, but I just wish there was more I could do for you. I could feel it, when you were showing me around. It was like only a part of you was there, and the other was some place too far to reach—a place I can’t go. And all that time I just kept wishing I could do more, and none of that is your fault, and I promise I don’t blame you in the slightest, but by Death, I just wish so badly.” She sniffled. “You gave me life, Morgan.” And lifted her head up to meet her girlfriend’s eyes. “A real one. A good one. One I’m proud of, one I look forward to, one I can tell people about. And you’re right, I’m not in the audience anymore, I haven’t been for some time now—long before we ever landed here, and even right now. And I owe it all to you, my love. The world is so alive to me, for once. And it means something to me now. And that’s you, you did that.” She breathed with happiness, fluttering a wet laugh. “Is it bad that I almost wish it was half-dead to me too? I don’t want to be any place you’re not, even the world of feeling.”

Loss was inevitable. Deirdre knew Morgan’s life didn’t have to be ruled by it, but it would be stained. An immortal, she would lose everything all over again, all the time. And Deirdre was pained to think about it, as if her own heart had been thrust out. “I’m sorry,” she swallowed, “about everything. I love you. I want everything to be better for you, and this feeling isn’t new. When you were alive and cursed I wanted it so badly I...Fates, even if you were normal, whatever that means, I’d worry about splinters. Curse all the wood, it attacks my girlfriend, doesn’t it know she hurts?” She laughed shakily, pressing her forehead to Morgan’s. “You make everything good, my love. Always. I know your life has been unkind to you, and I don’t know how to make it all better, but we’ll figure it out together. One day at a time. Whatever we can do today that’s good, we can give whatever you want. Do whatever. I love you.” And so she kissed her, fierce and desperate and stopped only when she remembered where they were. Chased by another quick kiss, she turned back to her food and resumed her sawing.

“I know I say it all the time, but just being with you is perfect for me; more than, even. I’m so thankful that you want to share this with me, and I’m so excited for it, but just in case you don’t feel like it...or if you’ve felt like you’re doing a bad job or something...I just wanted to make sure you know the truth: I love you. Any moment with you is good and perfect, and everything I could want and more. All of this has been amazing, every second. That’s that. And, actually, if you won’t think me too dramatic to say it, there was something on my mind—“ Deirdre frowned, interrupting herself. “Why is this so hard to cut?” Bite finally freed, she stabbed it with her fork, astonished at the strangely tough exterior. “I suppose I should taste this first.”

Morgan melted into all of Deirdre’s words and touches so readily she had to stop herself from mewling out loud and climbing into her girlfriend’s lap so they could be as close as she wanted. “I don’t want you to miss out on anything, I want to feel things with you and be...alive. Somehow, just a little more. I don’t want to be where you’re not either, I just don’t know how,” she whispered, clinging to Deirdre as much as she could. If she squeezed enough, she could get the right sense of Deirdre’s back and shoulders, she could press back enough to feel her forehead. “But I am so happy that you are here, and your world is alive. I can’t tell you how much I’ve been wanting that for you, my love. It doesn’t feel like it’s as much as you deserve, I want you to have more, I am so happy that you have this.” She had just hoped that they would be able to inhabit that world together. When Deirdre kissed her she returned with even more fire and longing. She could at least pull and suck and pinch hard enough to be brought a little closer to life. “I love you too, with all I am,” she whispered, feeling lightheaded as they parted.

She was so entranced by Deirdre’s face, the gentleness in her eyes, the devotion in her smile. There was no doubting her sincerity, not after the year they’d had and the honesty they nurtured between each other, but it still seemed like a strange violation of universal order that this love in all its tender, articulate wonder could be hers. So entranced, in fact, that she didn’t realize that Deirdre was about to put the tamale into her mouth, corn husk and all, until she asked. “Oh!” Morgan startled herself out of her crying. “Babe, no, let me help.” She took the fork and prised off the shredded husk and popped the piece into her mouth. The texture was soft and familiar, even hot, still, despite how long they’d spent talking and crying and gathering interested stares. Morgan unwrapped the rest of the tamale from the husk and laid it out. “The husk is just part of how it’s cooked and served. You don’t eat it, babe. Although you could re-wrap the  tamale in it and inch it down as you eat, but that’s more trouble than what it’s worth.” She leaned over and kissed the corner of Deirdre’s mouth, right where she smiled. “But when you try the shrimp tacos, I’m gonna have to insist that you eat them with your hands the way the good mother of earth intended.”

She watched as Morgan unwrapped the food, staring at the revealed insides. That would make more sense, she figured, and chewed the piece Morgan offered her. The flavour was new, but the texture was nice, pie-like, even. “I’ve never had food that required stripping first. It seems like a—“ Deirdre was going to call it a hassle. But then she chewed. Wordlessly, she cut another bite off and brought it to her mouth. She chewed, and swallowed, and went in for another again. “This is good,” she breathed. She hadn’t been expecting bad food, but she hadn’t really been hoping for much at all. She swallowed another bite, eventually putting down her utensils—as if they got in the way of her explanation. “No, this is really good. I—“ Her eyes drifted to the tacos; Morgan had made those a few times, and so she was no real stranger to them. But she had always tried to eat them with a fork and knife. It was how her family had raised her to eat; her mother didn’t like using her hands to eat, she said it was barbarian, like the humans. There was some superiority woven into using a knife to cut into toast, instead of doing what was logical and grabbing it with her hands. But that was her mother, of course. And she wasn’t here. “Right. With my hands. Like how you’re supposed to eat it.” But she’d only just gotten used to eating pizza with her hands. Deirdre contorted her hand awkwardly above the plate, alternating between various claw shapes as she tried to guess at what would be the best way to pick one up without spilling everything inside. “The only thing I’ve really eaten with my hands is fruit, and then only because I plucked it off branches, and it’d be odd to bring a fork outside. But meals, real meals, were always a fork thing. My family enjoys their etiquette.” Which, though she had explained to Morgan once before in less words, she felt like it might absolve her from embarrassment at her display of confusion at the taco. “Which was weird—“ she gave up and turned to the drink instead. “Because all other fae I knew were a lot more wild in their dining habits; they lived in the forest. It’s like my family wanted to be better than everyone, even their own community.” The piña colada was good, naturally. And bolstered by its sweet flavour, she finally picked up a taco and bit into it. “This is also good.” By the time she finished it, her smile had doubled in size.

“What I was trying to say…” Deirdre began, eager to get the words out before the food distracted her again, and it was very distracting food. “...was that I don’t want to be something else for you to lose. I know I can’t help it in some regards but...as long as you want me, Morgan. I imagine I can do that. Even if that’s more than 500 years, I could find a way to stay. If you wanted me to.” And no longer able to ignore the call of tacos and tamales, she dug back into the food.

Morgan dabbed at her eyes as Deirdre went on, occasionally shooting a wave or a thumbs up at a spectator from the surrounding tables. The attention always made them self conscious, and by the time Deirdre had her first proper bite of a taco, the world had rendered them invisible once again.

She itched to take her banshee into her arms and kiss her greasy fingers and carry her off to bed, but the surprising joy in Deirdre’s smile stopped her. Deirdre’s smile was always a little mischievous, whether it was tender or impish, there was a little curve in the corner that hid just how wide it might stretch, like a delicious secret. Even when Morgan made her laugh by surprise, that curve stayed coiled up. But now Deirdre’s smile spread like it had an appetite of its own. Looking at Deirdre enjoy her plate was like seeing her face new. “I guess this means we’ll have to make our own table rules and split the difference,” Morgan said. “I wouldn’t mind picking fruit with you sometime. You must know all the best spots back home.”

Morgan couldn’t help but reach for her banshee as she gave her reassurances. Even more than five hundred years. Even as long as Morgan might last on the face of the earth, Deirdre would wait until they might be together. When Deirdre paused to wipe her mouth between bites, Morgan took her face between her hands instead and kissed her, firm and steady as a promise. “I won’t hold you to that, if only because there’s a chance I’ll never stop wanting you, however many years I last. But thank you.” Kissed her again. “Thank you, my love. Now come with me. I know just the place I want to save with you.”

The bookstore was an hour away from midtown. Morgan cruised through the eight lane freeway with ease, slipping off and taking the quieter back roads when she sensed traffic getting heavy without distress or comment. The night sky blazed orange with light. Even when they’d left the construction zones and the sentinel lines of streetlights on 290, every grocery store, shopping center, and movie-plex had its own cluster of lamps blasting away the shadows. The commercial strip Morgan took them to was small, with no lights save for the ones inside and two flickering orange poles from the city. The names of the shops were all painted on the windows and awning, personal and to the point: Kelly’s Tea Room, Macey Family Fitness, Acre Wood Hunting Supply. The one Morgan parked in front of was named Twice Told Tales.

Like any good second hand bookstore, the charm of Twice Told Tales was in the mess. Wooden shelves, clumsily constructed, bowed and slumped against the walls, their over-stuffed shelves dribbling paperbacks out the middle. They looked like sleeping old men whose shirts had come loose. Toys from the children’s section at the back corner littered the floor: plush dolls and generic blocks from the dollar store, mostly, with the occasional donated Disney princess or superhero action figure, fists raised, ready to light up as soon as you stepped on them. There was an old fashioned bell rigged to the door, chiming happily as they entered. Morgan laced her fingers through Deirdre’s hand and started weaving through the shelves on her old route, fiction first, then fantasy and science fiction, then romance, then the children’s corner, and back up through science, math, and then art and art history. There was no one else shopping and the woman who ran the store was nowhere to be seen, probably doing office work in the back, but Morgan kept her voice hushed all the same, as if she might shatter the place if she spoke too loudly.

“See, my family had this idea to conserve the energy we put out into the world as a family as much as possible. I thought it was because they valued being intentional with your actions, a lot, but it was probably just a way of trying to minimize the curse. Like, how much can you suffer if you don’t have that much going for or against you, right? The answer turned out to be ‘still a lot’, but they tried. And, anyway, the part that affected me was no buying books new. Or many books in the first place. Fortunately inter-library loans are a thing so I wasn’t completely deprived or anything, but getting to have a book I got to love and keep for as long as possible was a…stars, ‘treat’ doesn’t cover how excited I was. Yes, it was a special occasion, only a few times in the year. Birthday and Yule, and maybe one more time if I could prove and argue that I had been really, really good and had earned it and swore up and down not to let it become too much of a distraction.” Morgan sighed, her eyes reflecting the streetlamps like tiny stars full of wishes. “One of the books was Anne of Green Gables, I remember it because the copy was leather bound and there was this incredible, full color illustration of Avonlea inside and it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, and I’d bring the book to bed with me just to look at the picture and imagine being there. Literally falling asleep with my head on the cover. And I got that one, and any other books from that period of time here and… Frankie!” A young looking tabby, about Moira’s size, leapt down from its roost on a shelf and presented itself for them. Meowing so calmly, it seemed to be offering customer service. “It’s not the same Frankie I knew, obviously, but the lady here just keeps adopting tabby’s and naming them the same.” She looked up at Deirdre, giving her hand a squeeze. Was she really here with her? Did she feel how special this place was? Did she like it?

“I’d like it if you never stopped wanting me, I hope you won’t. Because there’s a good chance I won’t stop wanting you either.” Deirdre smiled softly. The food was done, delicious to the late bite, and she welcomed the Houston night air into her lungs. She didn’t know where they were going, she never really did. But it wouldn’t have mattered if she knew the place by heart or in casual passing, her excitement bubbled and overflowed like milk in a pot. Her version of simmering down was trying to read road signs as they blurred past. Morgan drove like she was going home, even in White Crest there was still some double-checking of street names, trying to decide if it was a left or right turn. She peeled off the giant freeway into an exit Deirdre hadn’t even noticed, though she had occupied herself with softly commenting every odd observation—some witty, some nonsensical, some common sense. She wasn’t so much talking to Morgan as she was letting her brain run loose. Beyond them, her pot continued to boil.

For all that she imagined of the place, their destination was better. Their destination was always better. Her eyes danced over every book spine, every dusty shelf. She almost wanted to tell Morgan to walk slower, she needed to commit it all to memory first. She needed to think about where Morgan stood before, what books she touched, and if they were still here for her to run her fingers over. In her awe and excitement, she hadn’t even remembered the name of the establishment. They should go back out, and come back in, let her revel in the chime of the door. How many times did it jingle for Morgan? Could she know? The store was cramped, every inch filled with something. She thought of the massive freeway, and tried to figure how many of these stores could fit in there. Then she listened. She looked to Morgan, and then back around the store. Between the shelves, did a younger Morgan skip with excitement through the sections? Did she look up, brows furrowed in concentration as she tried to pick out the perfect book—the best book. If she only got just one, it had to be good, didn’t it? But how could she pick, faced with options that literally fell off the shelves for her. Deirdre imagined Ruth in the corner, impatiently tapping her foot. Or maybe it was Hector, as excited as his daughter. Did he pick titles off the shelves that he thought his daughter would like? Did he marvel at how something so simple, so inconsequential, sparked such innocent excitement in her? Did he feel guilty? Deirdre turned back to Morgan, just quick enough to catch the expression on her face. Guilt, she decided. He could have made a world where she made that face all the time. Deirdre felt herself wanting to herself, she couldn’t imagine anyone feeling any different. What monsters those creatures must be, that would ever deny Morgan this.

Frankie interrupted them, which was all the better for Deirdre, who knew her eyes were watering. She laughed shakily, turning her head to hide a sniffle. “You’re so happy,” she sniffled again, trying to cover this one up with a cough as she met Morgan’s eyes. “It’s the most beautiful sight.” She greeted it with a kiss, as if thanking her lips for smiling. And another kiss to her temple; for her eyes, which glittered with brilliance. And then another, to her lips again, simply because she enjoyed kissing Morgan and wanted one more. She reached out slowly to the orange cat with a soft smile, letting it sniff her fingers. “I like Frankie,” she proclaimed, the cat hadn’t done anything in particular to earn such praise, but Deirdre had long since forgotten that she wasn’t supposed to like animals. Whatever happened in White Crest, whoever she was there, whatever she was under the thumb of rules, it was as if that woman’s skin had been lifted off her shoulders. She felt free, happy. “So I have Anne of the Green Gables to thank for the fact you’ve read the same old books I have.” Though Morgan had read more, obviously. “How did you pick books out?” She asked finally, pulling one off the shelf for herself, knowing she’d never be able to stuff that thing back in. She flipped through its slightly worn pages; someone had dog-eared a passage, and Deirdre stopped to look at it, wanting to know what someone thought was special there. “There’s so many books,” she continued, “how did you pick? Was it the prettiest cover? Did you read a couple of pages tucked away in the corner?” Show me, she was asking, in much more words. She wanted to know. She wanted the place where Morgan was happy, and the only problem she had was picking a good book, she wanted that world to be the one they knew best—like a full-color illustration of Avonlea. She wanted the gentle strokes, the soft greens, the wide fields and the old-fashioned house that always looked warm and cozy. She wanted to say they could have that. “My mother always thought second-hand books were tacky. Like the humans didn’t even care enough to keep them in the first place. The books I got from that antique store were all previously owned, just like everything else in there. That, itself, was a story. When it was replaced with a bookstore, even if I spent my time there, I never wanted to take a book home.” For various reasons, some that included an angry mother, hateful of personal possessions, others that could be summed up by the dog-eared corner that she pointed to. “People do care, don’t they?”

Morgan wiped Deirdre’s cheek and took her hands once again. “I am unspeakably, dangerously happy,” she said. Laughter bounced on the edge of her lips as she kissed her back. “It’s this place. And maybe a little bit you. Or a lot a bit you.” Frankie padded over to them and brushed against Deirdre’s legs, giving them a polite meow of inquiry again. Morgan scratched the cat’s ears and let it get a sniff of her, beaming as it purred and asked the same as Deirdre. “Frankie likes you too, I think. There’s something about bookstore cats, they just know how to develop an excellent sense of character. Maybe it’s the place.This is a room where things that are lost or unwanted go to belong together and find new homes. It feels nice because anything can have a space here, even people, just by turning up. I think people who don’t get that are just missing out. People do care, yeah…” Her voice trailed off in a whisper, awed and thrilled by the wonder bubbling up in Deirdre. The emptiness and the drab fluorescent lights and the cheap peeling tile under their feet transformed themselves just by being reflected in her face.

Morgan came back to herself with a sheepish grin. “If I can tear you away from your new best friend Frankie, I’d like to show you how I picked out my books….” She reeled her tight into her side and laid their hands against one another, hers on top, guiding it toward the spines. She walked them back to the front of her path, in generic fiction and literature, and hopped onto her toes to steal another kiss. “So, it may be shallow, but I did, to a certain extent, look at their covers. But I also--don’t laugh--tried to feel them. Their textures, their softness, but also their energy. I’d look, and I’d brush my fingers along the spines, up and down and zig-zagging to make sure I got the ones turned sideways too.” She guided Deirdre’s hand as she spoke, teaching her fingertips how to glide over the different shapes and sizes. “I knew I had something promising when my eyes and my hands aligned. Like when you look at someone you love, when you spark inside. If the energy is right, it feels like that, but quiet, it’s just a possibility of that, there’s something inside that wants to become a part of you, but you don’t know if you want it back yet. So then, and only then, I’d pick it out and read a few pages.” She looked at the shelves around them and the steady path of Deirdre’s fingers, and back to her love again. “What feels good to you, Deirdre?”

Deirdre put her book down, she felt guilty for not slipping it back in its place for a moment before her worries—big and small—were swept away by Morgan. “Oh, my love,” she laughed, kneeling down to give Frankie better attention. She was rewarded with the cat weaving between her legs. “You said that about the shelter cats too.” She glanced up, beaming. “And those strays that followed us around that one day. And, just about any animal we come across together.” It occurred to her then that Morgan had never really been speaking to the wisdom of the animals, but of Deirdre’s character. She flushed, and continued to dote on the taby. “But maybe it’s this place. I like this place.” It smelt questionable, like dust and books and something kind of like mold—maybe a byproduct of the Houston humidity. It looked like it’d been robbed; upturned, downturned, spread out like a sloppy storage room. The walls, shelves and floor were as worn as the books. And yet, charming. It wasn’t carelessness that led this store to its current state. It was worn by touch and love, claimed by time, plagued by too many treasures to fit between its shelves. It did need a little saving, a little fixing up, then it’d be just right.

“Mm, I don’t know. Frankie and I are getting along so great.” Her lips curled with mischief, easily awash with eagerness at Morgan’s offer. Even she couldn’t keep up her teasing under the promise to be shown—led—into Morgan’s world. “Okay,” she brushed herself off and stood up. “Show me.” Deirdre smiled and listened. “I’m no witch though. The only energies I feel are death, and I’m not so sure I want to pick a haunted book…” Now, one with a bone stuck between the pages would be nice, but human bookstores usually didn’t offer that. Though she didn’t think it would work for her, she followed Morgan’s steps. She imagined herself as the little girl, beyond excited to have something of her own. What would she pick? Her fingers brushed over the spines of dozens of books; soft, smooth, wrinkled. Some with indented titles, carved into their covers. Others with the embossed kind, some with glitter. All of them wanted attention from her, not unlike the threads of death she could feel at a cemetery. The glory of stories was that she could tug on any one, and be led into something new and exciting—a different world. Books and visions had that in common. So, she waited, she ran her fingers carefully along more books, considering each one. What feels good to you, Deirdre? She paused, fingers pressed to the spine of a humble book. Its title was not long or flashy, not indented or embossed. The book was not thick, though not so small it got lost sandwiched between larger company. What stood out to her most was where her fingers had landed: they obscured the rest of the title, leaving only a red M. There was only ever one thing that felt good to her, every time, without fail. The book was unassuming, but Deirdre grinned as though she found treasure. She pulled the book from its place, flipping it over in her hands so she could look at the cover. From there, she knew she’d chosen the right one. “She looks like you,” Deirdre commented, tilting the book to show Morgan the little girl on the cover. She had brown hair, a blue dress and stack of books, sitting as though she knew more about the world than she ought to—possessed of great, Morgan-esque quality. “Matilda,” Deirdre read. “This one feels good.” Good felt like Morgan, after all.

Morgan squeezed Deirdre as she picked out her treasure and melted with delight just looking at it. “She looks like you,” Morgan said. “Straight hair, dark eyes, and so rapturous and intense in her expression. It’s kinda like your face right now.” She brushed her fingers over Deirdre’s features as she spoke, caressing each corresponding piece of evidence to her argument. Confident she’d made her point, she jumped up to kiss her girlfriend’s cheek again. “Matilda had to hide her books from her parents too, you know. They didn’t appreciate how kind or thoughtful she was, so she--” Morgan caught herself, biting her lip. “If you don’t know the story yet, I won’t steal the satisfaction of the ending from you. But it’s good. My copy was a lot more heavily used than this one, practically falling apart, but it was one of my favorite books growing up. I actually committed myself to learning levitation spells because I wanted to be just like her. And you know--” she brushed her hands over the book cover. “I can feel the good vibes from this book too, even like this. Come on.” She rushed them to the counter and rang the service bell, fighting back delighted giggles. “Hello! Mrs. Benson!”

The woman who came out the back was decidedly not Mrs. Benson. She was around Morgan’s age, with a suburban mom bob and clear frame glasses. “Can I help you?”

“O-oh.” Morgan’s smile fractured and she thanked the universe for her lack of blood flow. “I just um...we’re ready to check out, if that’s okay. I’m sorry I yelled I just, I used to come here a lot. I didn’t know Mrs. Benson super well, and I guess she had to retire eventually, but she was a really nice old lady and I was just hoping to say hi or something.”

The woman’s face broke into a laugh. “Morgan the Gorgon! I’m sorry, that’s so inappropriate of me, but it’s you, right? It’s me, Shelley! We had Chem together!”

While Morgan remembered that name being chanted at her as she was chased down the stairwell and pelted with cans and paper balls, she didn’t remember Shelley, exactly. Was she and academic rival? Had she been someone Morgan had tried to impress with tarot readings and custom crystals? The high school girls blurred together, and the innocence of that time mingled with the pain, like indigestion flaring up in your throat after swallowing a cheesecake. “Hey!” She said. “How--wild! Seeing you here! What made you pick up the torch for this old place?”

“Well, my mother, bless her heart, doesn’t have a head for business, but the last thing Memaw wanted was for the only used book place out here to get bought up or disappear. Lucky for me, I managed to learn a thing or two from her before she passed.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Morgan murmured.

Shelley scoffed. “She’s smiling down from heaven at us. I mean look at us. Look at you! That’s a high fallutent city girl if I ever saw one. Both of you!” She reached out to take Deirdre’s hand and shake it, reintroducing herself as if the last minute didn’t count on account of not being personable enough. “Memaw would be so pleased,” she went on. “You were her favorite of all the regular kids.” Shelley nodded towards an exposed wooden post filled with polaroids and printed pictures of smiling children through the ages. Only two had managed to get frames on them, one that was clearly a younger shelley, posing with her grandmother, and one that made Morgan gasp: unmistakably her. She clutched Deirdre’s arm tight. The girl in the picture was so cringingly embarrassed, not just at the occasion (The Best Reader of the Year award, which amounted to a cheaply printed certificate from Office Max and a free book) but at her own happiness. The promise of a free book, a gift that had been earned in the structure of rules and work had filled her with so much excitement. It was as certain as a spell. Better, even, because she hadn’t even needed to believe, she just had to max out her library card reading more than the other kids and report everything to Mrs. Benson. It didn’t occur to her until she saw the apathetic faces in the gathering that this wasn’t a very enviable achievement. But by then it was too late, and however much she tried to stay aloof as the other eleven and twelve year olds, she failed, miserably. “That’s me,” she whispered. “Deirdre, it’s me.”

“Simpler times, huh?”

Morgan nodded, her attention still stuck on the picture. The attempts to make a slightly oversize shirt look cool, the sweatshirt tied around her waist, the permanent stains on her thrift store jeans. It was all so wrong and brought her so much trouble then, but from here, she just looked like a child. A girl still growing, twisting herself crooked trying to get something right.

“Would you like this gift wrapped or anything, ladies?” Shelley asked.

“But that sounds like you,” Deirdre argued with a soft whine. She eyed the cover again, unable to see anyone but Morgan, with her books, underappreciated for all the intelligence and kindness that existed within her. But Deirdre’s argument leapt out of her in a yelp before it had formed, swept away by Morgan. She laughed her surprise, placing the book on the counter. Though she’d been reading more with Morgan around, she had never felt excited to read a book she picked out since she was a child. She ran her fingers along the fraying edges and thumbed the pages. In a different world, she might have been embarrassed to be reading a children’s book. In this one, she was thrilled. Deirdre bounced on her heels, grinning as she waited.

Her smile gave way to one more tense, more confused. No one told her what a Memaw was, but she managed to put it together herself. She shook Shelley’s hand, momentarily considering snapping a finger for her revisiting of a clearly tasteless nickname, and introduced herself quickly. “Deirdre,” she managed, before Shelley was off to the next thing. Her eyes followed Morgan’s, and Deirdre nearly forgave her for mentioning the gorgon thing. “It’s you,” she whispered back, reaching up to pluck the picture off its nail. Matilda was fine in her cartoon form with her long hair and book pile, but this was the real Morgan. Deirdre’s grin grew back. “Can we get a copy of this?” She asked, interrupting Shelley. “Or keep it, I suppose.” She turned to Morgan, asking silently for her opinion. “It’d be nice if Morgan could be up on that wall forever, reigning over all the other children. But original photos have a particular charm.” She continued to smile at her girlfriend, held close to her. “What do you think?” She whispered, exhibiting great restraint in simply squeezing her arm instead of kissing her like she wanted. There was another question, about how much exactly Shelley should know about their relationship, or if Deirdre should make it a point that she came out of this interaction thinking they were just really good friends. “Don’t worry about gift wrapping it,” she finally addressed Shelley’s question, leaning across the counter. “I did want to ask something about, hm, donations.” Her eyes trailed over the peeling tile, the chipping paint, the books overflowing into disorganized stacks. Then it settled on the emptiness; book stores were not the most popular visit during the night, but she could almost reason it wasn’t the most popular visit full stop. “For the store.” She offered Shelley a bright, winning smile. “If Morgan wanted to put something forth, in her name. She could do that, couldn’t she?”

“If you want it it’s yours!” Shelley said. “All the kids in those pictures are old like us or moved away. Not much to appreciate. And I’m running out of room for the new kids…” Shelley went on longer, explaining who these children were and how often they came and what her ideas were for posting their pictures, but Morgan didn’t hear. She picked up the framed photograph, fingers brushing over her frizzy hair and her sloppy oversize shirt tucked into her stiff jeans. She didn’t wear grunge well, but at least the 90’s were kind to her Goodwill wardrobe.

“Thank you, Shelley,” she said. She tucked herself close to Deirdre, leaning her head on her arm as she broached the subject of donations. “We would,” Morgan tacked on. “It could be anonymous, of course, but what my girlfriend is trying to say is that we would like to give you something toward keeping this place open for another generation or two, and maybe even a facelift, or a more advantageous location?”

Shelley’s eyes widened at the mention of girlfriend, but Morgan forgave her when she didn’t comment. Shelley gestured to a donation jar, admirably half full but not exactly promising for the long term. “We’re always accepting donations at Twice Told Tales. Check is fine, if you, uh, ladies are feeling extra generous.”

“Perfect!” Morgan said. “But what would it take, do you think? Would sixty thousand help you guys out? Or a hundred thousand?”

Shelley blanched, trying to figure out if Morgan was being serious. “Are you...Well, it would certainly go a long way, a very...if mean, if you’re serious, then...I could check the books and give you a more comprehensive estimate, but I couldn’t possibly…”

“We’ll start with the book--” Morgan fished seven dollars out of her wallet and handed it to the woman. “Keep the change. And I’ll set you up with a hundred thousand now, and you can email me about what’s best for the store.” Morgan happily wrote out a check and stuffed it into the jar. “And, well,” Morgan looked hesitantly at Deirdre, trying to ask for her approval in advance, “If you don’t mind, babe, I’d like a plaque or something, with both our names on it. You can call us donors or patrons, I don’t really care, but I want people who come in here to think of Deirdre too when they think of this place.” She stuffed the check in the jar. “Can we make it a deal? A little extra funding for the store in exchange for its continued upkeep and care, along with a little recognition?” Her eyes flitted to Deirdre again, adding emphasis on the deal. They could make this different. They could make this one good thing stick, and for once, a legacy didn’t have to be something shrouded in pain and suffering.

“We?” Deirdre blinked, eyeing Morgan. She didn’t correct her, or argue, but in her silence she asked if that was okay, if Morgan was sure. This place was special to her, and it would be kept alive through her kindness. Deirdre thought herself an accessory, at best. But when Morgan didn’t correct herself, Deirdre stood up straighter and nodded. “We would,” she repeated, and pressed a kiss to Morgan’s temple as she so desired. If Shelley had any real issue with it, she certainly couldn’t after their hefty donations—and maybe that was a justice of its own sort. “Think of…” her voice caught, and she looked at Morgan for the second time with confusion. “A-a plaque would be nice,” she swallowed. Nervous not because she disagreed, but because the generosity of it, the thoughtfulness, had made her heart warm in a way that always startled her. “If that’s good to you, Shelley.” She smiled, “it sounds perfect to me.” All she had on her was a few hundred she planned on paying for the food with, and so she simply stuffed that into the jar, careful to avoid the cheque. Her gaze fluttered to the different places their plaque could lay; on the wall where the picture once was, by the door, in the corner where people would wander to read. They would know this place was special, if they didn’t get that already. They would know two women cared deeply about it. This place was good already, it didn’t need their money for that. But it would be better because of them, and it wouldn’t face financial struggle in a way so many other businesses fell victim. They could leave good in their wake. “You know, Shelley the smelly—” Deirdre grinned; and maybe some petty revenge too. “Did they ever call you that in highschool? Terrible name, really. Anyways, I know you have a lot of great ideas for this store. So why don’t you figure out how much they all cost and we’d be glad to finance them. The next time you visit your grandmother, will you put some extra flowers in for us too? Tell her we said thank you? I know she’s already been able to rest easy with her store in such good hands.” Her gaze raked one last time over the tiles, the walls, the shelves and the messy books; whenever they returned, there was no telling what this place would look like. Her heart throbbed for the scenery to be lost, but not all loss was bad. Some of it was merely change—like the tides of life and death.

Deirdre pulled closer to Morgan. They could save something, they could make it good, and she kissed her girlfriend, free. She repeated, “do we have a deal, Shelley?”

Shelly nodded, stammering out her agreement. She was so stunned, the dig at her name didn’t even phase her. “Yes, that’s, sounds great. Deal!” She didn’t have any sense for the magic threads wrapping around her words or the delight that burned through Morgan as the agreement was sealed.

“You’re a good woman, Shelley,” Morgan said. “Thank you for letting us help. You take care now, alright?” Her voice drawled softly as she picked up the old parlance of her childhood. She spared Shelley one more smile, more than a little satisfied with her own magnanimousness. She left on Deirdre’s arm, keeping her cool sense of superiority until they got back to the car. When they were safely inside, Morgan took Deirdre’s face in her hands and kissed her hard. “I love you. Thank you for doing that with me. I know it’s just one little store, but it’s part of my home now it’s a little bit mine and a little bit yours too. Something good is ours.  Not the worst way to end the night, right? How do you feel…?”

“Thank you for sharing it with me,” Deirdre breathed as they parted. “You didn’t have to, but I’m so glad you did. It’s a special place, it really is.” She reached for Morgan’s hands, eager to take them in her own, tight in her grip. “I feel happy,” she confessed, unafraid of what it meant. To them, happiness was a dangerous thing, even as often as they felt it. They knew how easily it could be taken from them, how the robbing of it could come disguised as righteousness. But there, right then, Deirdre was happy despite it all. If Ruth was somewhere, scowling at her daughter for such flagrant displays of selfish delight, Deirdre hoped she could see how much they didn’t care. “Thank you,” she repeated, “for everything, for all of tonight. For bringing me to the restaurant, for showing me this store...for letting me come along for this trip, even. I’ve loved seeing your home, Morgan.” She grinned, reluctant to part but aware that at some point, they really had to get back to their hotel. Not for rest, but because there was love she simply couldn’t share stuffed at the front of their rental. “Fates, I’d be fine if you had more planned, but I’d really like to take you back to the hotel…” She leaned across and kissed Morgan earnestly, in a way she thought might make Shelley blush if they were still inside. Parted, she grinned with a tease. “...to do some chaste reading.” She waved their new-old copy of Matilda around. “And to make love to you, either-or.” Deirdre leaned back into her seat, gripping Morgan’s hand. Whatever laid beyond them, and back home in White Crest, they’d done good here. And with luck, they could do good elsewhere. A legacy that was more than loss and pain was suddenly something Deirdre wanted, and something else she felt like she could have. She had Morgan to thank for that, she had Morgan to thank for a lot of things. “I love you,” she smiled; for now, those three words would have to carry the weight of it.

[vgperson]

What Did I Do In 2019?

[servinglemonade]

Holiday Movies🎄🎬 : Festive AF or Bah Humbug?

Hi! First up, I hope you are doing okay and are staying safe. It has been a weird Christmas season, and since The Netherlands is now in their second lockdown period for 2020, it is even weirder. However, that is not messing up my festive spirit. Christmas is my favorite time of the year, and not even 2020 will mess that up for me. Something I have been doing since lockdown is watching movies (even more than usual). Including a bunch of new Christmas movies. I watch the classics as always and made a blog post for that a couple of years ago. Which you can read here. So, I decided to make a post with all the ‘new’ Christmas movies I have watched this year! So keep reading to find out if these movies will make you say Ho-Ho-Ho or No-No-No... 

No worries, all the reviews are spoiler-free!

The Holiday Calendar (2018): Festive AF

Where to watch: Netflix

I watched this movie back in 2018 because I love Quincy! So, I was curious about this movie. I adored it. Now it has become an annual Christmas watch. Kat Graham and Quincy have great chemistry and the plot is quite original, which I can always appreciate. It is a fun movie and very cozy!

Anastasia (1997): festive AF

Where to watch: Disney+

I have been watching this movie since I was little, and I feel it so underrated! This is not a Christmas movie. However, with the winter scenery, I think it is great for the Holiday season! It’s the story of Anastasia, who may or may not be a long-lost Russian princess... The animation is fantastic, the locations are so pretty to look at, the characters and cast are amazing, and the soundtrack and musical numbers are just incredible. Yeah, there is a lot to love about this movie! Highly recommend.

The Lego Star Wars Holiday Special (2020): festive AF

Where to watch: Disney+ (if you do not have Disney+, it is on YouTube in two parts, but you did not hear that from me ;))

I have never watched the Lego Star Wars stuff but when I saw that this was coming out, I thought: yes, sign me up! I had so much fun watching this. I highly recommend it for any Star Wars fan! Does not matter if you like the prequels, original trilogy, or the sequels, this has something for everyone! It has some great humor and some GREAT character moments.  I LOVE one moment so much that I downloaded it on my phone to watch whenever I want. This will get you in the Christmas (or as they say in the SW universe Life Day) spirit for sure!

Holidate (2020): festive AF

Where to watch: Netflix

I watched this one with my friends through a virtual watch party and enjoyed it. It was way better than I expected after seeing the trailer. Emma Roberts is great as always and it was quite funny. However, with Christmas just 5 days away (yeah!!!!!), I recommend putting this one on your list for November/early December. Since the movie is not all Christmas.

The Princess Switch 2: bah humbug

Where to watch: Netflix

I hate to say it because I liked the first one and love Vanessa Hudgens, but this was not good. The plot got so ridiculous at some point and besides Vanessa and some others, most of the cast were quite mediocre. The outfits were fantastic though!

Operation Christmas Drop (2020): festive AF

Where to watch: Netflix

I enjoyed this movie. However, I do not feel the need to watch it again. Kat Graham and Alexander Ludwig’s performances are wonderful and it has a great message. The movie takes place on the island of Guam and it was so beautiful! Even though the plot can be quite predictable, it is still quite an original story for a Christmas movie!

My Christmas Inn (2018): bah humbug

Where to watch: Netflix

Predictable and cheesy. It has all the basic beats of your regular Christmas movie. A woman with a very busy and successful job goes to a small town, usually does not like Christmas or is too busy to celebrate it. Then they usually meet the town’s most eligible bachelor, and well... You can fill in the rest. Tia Mowry does a fine job for what she has been given and the town and inn are charming.

Noelle (2019): festive AF

Where to watch: Disney+

I was not sure about this one after the trailer, but I LOVED this! Anna Kendrick and Billie Eichner are so great here and the movie has so many Christmas puns... Oh my garland, right up my alley. I loved the look of the North Pole, soooo magical. Plus, Snowcone is absolutely adorable! SO SO SO festive!

Dash & Lily (2020): festive AF

Where to watch: Netflix

Okay, this is not a movie, but a series. However, it is just 8 episodes that are around 20-27 minutes each and it is very binge-able! This show is based on a book. I don’t want to give anything away, but the basic plot is that this boy who hates Christmas comes into contact with a girl who loves Christmas through a notebook, which might sound really vague, but it will become clear when you watch it! It takes place in New York during the Christmas season (obviously), which drew me to the show in the first place. Call me basic, but NYC looks so festive and magical. This is what this show is too! I loved it and hope there will be a second season next year!

Jingle Jangle: A Christmas Journey (2020): festive AF

Where to watch: Netflix

This movie is... INCREDIBLE. Everything about it is just magical. The cast, set design, characters, costume design, musical numbers and choreography, the story. Everything is just wonderful! You can tell this movie had a big budget which it deserves. I even forget for a minute that I was watching a Netflix movie?! You have to watch this one, you will not regret it. My favorite songs were This Day and Make It Work Again. The Usher and Kiana Ledé version of This Day is fantastic too and has been on repeat! Someone on Twitter said that this movie would make an amazing Broadway musical which I agree wholeheartedly with and someone should get on that and make it happen!

Godmothered (2020): festive AF

Where to watch: Disney+

I liked Godmothered. The plot was nice, the characters were fun and overall enjoyable. I do not know why, but I just always enjoy stories where someone who is not from our world, comes here and discovers everything in funny ways. It just cracks me up, and Godmothered has those aspects as well. I was also impressed by the special effects and CGI in this movie.

Christmas in Evergreen (2017): bah humbug

Where to watch: I watched this one on TV and it is not on Netflix here in The Netherlands, but maybe you will be in luck... or not (since the movie is not very good)

The town of Evergreen has become a running gag now in my house. There is not 1, not 2, but 3 movies that take place in this town. I-... I do not know what to say haha. I mean, just like My Christmas Inn, a very basic plot. Evergreen does have a charming, festive feel to it, so the movie has that going for it. Other than that, not a lot. One thing I found ridiculous was when the main character had a flight to catch. You would think that she has to get to the airport, yet she goes on all these side quests and I was just so annoyed by it.

Christmas Wonderland (2018): festive AF

Where to watch: Netflix

Is it cheesy? Yes. Is it predictable? Yes. Did I enjoy it? Heck yeah. I do not know why, but Christmas Wonderland is not as cringe as some of these Hallmark Christmas movies can be. It stars Emily Osment (you might know her from Hannah Montana) and she is an artist here. Overall, not a waste of time and it was fun to watch.

So that was it for this post! I hope you enjoyed it and maybe gave you a few new Christmas movies to watch! What are some of your favorite Christmas movies?

I will be back with more posts after Christmas! Maybe some of my favorite things from 2020, to end this year on a positive note!

There are just 3 days left until Christmas. 2020 has been the longest, yet the fastest year ever. I know this Christmas will be different and there will be lots of people spending it without their loved ones. If you are one of them, I am so sorry. I hope you can enjoy the day regardless. Watch a few movies, eat all your favorite Christmas treats, call up your loved ones, treat yourself with a nice face mask, or do absolutely nothing. It’s up to you.

I truly hope you have a wonderful Christmas and I am sending lots of virtual hugs your way! I wish you a very merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! XO

Yenai

[sonatanotwo]

Okay. I rattle on a lot about ages... so figure I might drop my brain thinkings into a post so if anyone is curious how I arrive at my estimates... well... here you go. Hang onto your hats... I’m about to drop a LOT of info. XDDD

Okay. I rattle on a lot about ages... so figure I might drop my brain thinkings into a post so if anyone is curious how I arrive at my estimates... well... here you go. Hang onto your hats... I’m about to drop a LOT of info. XDDD

There’s a few things to establish first... some facts and things I’m gonna assume based on how things are presented.

The series starts in 2060 (as quoted by Virgil in Ring of Fire)

If Alan is graduating now, he’s probably 18 (as I mentioned in reply to blanket-fish and few others ^^) and usually that’d be June-ish in NA school systems... and since we’re dealing with american characters and largely american writers, including the head writer... I’m goin’ with that!... SO... current eps would be around then.

Also gonna assume Scott is about 10 years older than Alan. (Some old TAG magazine that I hold to a grain of salt said 9 years... but I mean. 10 is nicer and I mean... TECHNICALLY with how their birthdays are... you could say actually they’re 9 years and lil’ over 11 months apart. SO, then that would make it 9 years technically if you really wanna round down. lol BUT yeah, I’m goin’ with 10.)

So first let’s talk about spacing. Generally when I age the boys I try to give them at LEAST 18 months between them... which is really the amount of time one should give themselves between pregnancies at the very least. That’s easy for most of them... only John and Gordon come in a bit under that, but we’ll get back to that.

SO... I wanna go with, as of current eps, Scott is 28.

That’d make him born April 4th, 2035. (I think that’s right anyways.) Then we can make Virgil August 15th, 2037. (Which puts them 2 years and several months between.) John then October 8th, 2039, also over 2 years apart from Virgil... perf. THEN.. Gordon.

Gordon is the 14th of February. Now to make him 2041 that would mean their Mom had Gordon a lot sooner... like VERY lot sooner than like... the recommended time off after John. They’re such troublemakers those two. XDDD (THEY are, in fact, the reason TOS Virgil and John were switched. The company (that owned TOS at the time) wanted to make a “style guide” and  wanted the birthdates to match one info with a tighter age spread with John 22 and Gordon 21... which meant Gordon would be born 4 months after John. Which would be a WEE BIT IMPOSSIBLE. In the end they decided to switch John and Virg and tweak things to fit... that’s the tl;dr version of the story, but yeah!) SO yeah, the better choice might be to shove him another year to 2042, which then leaves plenty of time and is better for their Mom.

OKAY. SO. In current time then...

Scott is 28, Virgil 25 (26 in like less than 2 months), John 23 (24 in less than 4 months), Gordon then could be 21 (or 22 but ehhh) and Alan 18.

Then as for some of the other cast... Kayo is kinda hard to place these days, though I feel like given how she interacts with the older boys she is definitely a little on the older scale... but IDK where exactly. In TOS Tin-Tin was 22 and birthday June 20th, but that was to be close to Alan.

Penelope has come up... especially that line in RoF about her looking into things for Jeff. Don’t forget her looking into things is her and Parker looking into things. He’d be most likely one digging into stuff for her. XDa But yeah hrm... 17-18 then making her 25-26 now doesn’t sound so bad? lol 26 was actually her listed age in TOS. (Her birthday being Christmas Eve.) Once you get into your 20s and onwards a few years between people becomes nothing in regards to her and Gordon. ^^b And yeah. IDK. Late teen for sleuthing doesn’t bother me, but then I’ve grown up reading the likes of Nancy Drew and such, soooo... XDa Even being 16 isn’t tooooooooooo far fetched imho, but yeah. That line didn’t age well. lol Oops.

Grandma is a big \O_o/ And Jeff’s January 2nd birthday and was 56... I’d guess something similar in TAG, less perhaps a few years. ^^b That works fine for the boys. (Mid-late 20s then when Scott was born.)

And Brains... November 14th, for the record and in TOS he was 25, but I really do believe he’s much older in TAG. Well into his 30s even, since he’s been to university and worked for Fischler awhile after... then Jeff happened. Brains likely woulda been late teen or early 20s then? Then the TV-21 was built and sank... Scott was ‘just a kid’ when that happened. So like... 28... minus 8 years, minus maybe another 5-6? to make Scott 15-14... so near Alan’s ‘just a kid’ type age? But coulda been even bit younger. Plus then add a year or two working for Jeff and making the TV-21 and everything... Then if say he was least 18 when came to work for Jeff... Def talking in the realm of mid-30s. SO. That is my guess. lol (And so why I tend to think of Brains being like... older surrogate brother or uncle to the boys... cause he woulda met them all when they were decidedly kids.)

SO YEAH. These are my brain thinkings. I feel like I’m forgetting something, but I am le-tired. Be interesting to see if we get any more clues from the last ep or if Rob spills some data on twitter, which he has suggested he might least in regards to Jeff... so we shall see. XDa

OH lastly... for any of my fellow visual folk here’s my lil’ helpful chart that shows how I figured out time between birthdates of the older boys. (Remember you need 9ish (very much ISH) months for being pregnant. Then they recommend 18 months between being pregnant... yes Virg and John are a titch under that, but least not by TOO too much.)