fics are my absolute favorite type of fanwork, and i’ve been meaning to compile a list of my favorite macdennis fics for a while now. i recently hit 1000 followers here (which is absolutely wild, thank you so, so much
), so i figured this was as good a time as any to do this. here are some of my favorite macdennis fics, in no particular order. if you read any of these, this is an open invitation to come cry with me over how freakin good these are:
The Inevitable by runningwafers (explicit, 11k words) | Mac is in a lot of denial. This is a story about what happens when he finally snaps. [This one is an absolute treasure. Everyone is written impeccablyin-character and there are parts that genuinely made me laugh out loud. The ending is near and dear to my heart.]
each the other’s world entire by quixoti (explicit, 13k words) | Mac and Dennis survive each other. Mac and Dennis will always survive each other. [This one follows Mac and Dennis from high school onwards, and it’s heart-achingly good. The references to direct scenes from the show are so spot on.]
we sinners bend by infinitevariety (explicit, 64k words) | Mac and Dennis have been sleeping on Dee’s floor for months. Something’s got to give. [A long one but a damn good one. Also, it’s a classic, so go read it now.]
Mac and Dennis Conduct an Experiment by pavonine (explicit, 36k words) | Dennis convinces Mac that the only surefire way to prove his straightness is to sexually experiment with another man. Of course that man happens to be Dennis. Of course Mac buys into this as a reasonable plan of action. Of course it backfires on them both. [Another classic. There’s so much to love about this one, but I’m especially fond of the dialogue.]
you’re the one i wanna watch this ship go down with by lagaudiere (mature, 4k words) | Not dying on a Christian cruise ship sometimes means having to face hard truths about yourself. Mac’s never been very good at that. [Good cavity-inducing fluff, complete with a great dancing scene.]
thick thighs make a dick rise by reflektions (explicit, 6k words) | In which Dennis does drag for the first time and Mac’s dick has an existential crisis. [DENNIS DOES DRAG. I don’t need to say anything more.]
the spell that you’ve created by peskyfeelings (mature, 7k words) | Mac is in bed but he can’t find sleep, because Dennis Reynolds lit a match and it’s still burning him up. [Internally tortured Mac and manipulative Dennis strike again, but this is a fresh and well-written take on it.]
the day you move (i’m probably gonna explode) by sinnabar (explicit, 7k words) | He could maybe get addicted to this, if he let himself. Or: five times Mac and Dennis toed the line between friends and lovers, and one time they crossed it for good. [A good old 5+1.]
remember the things that make you feel by blackmountainbones (explicit, 9k words) | AU: Dennis Reynolds is a heroin addicted prostitute and Mac is one of his johns. [AKA the AU that tore my goddamn heart into a million pieces. This one will ruin your life, but you should read it anyway.]
Mac’s Day Out by adrianicsea (gen, 1k words) |
With $14 to his name after paying arbitration fees, Mac celebrates his first full day out of the closet. [This one’s not macdennis, but it’s short and sweet. I wanted to include an s12 fic on this list, and this one’s my favorite.]
I love HxH for so many reasons but one thing i love about it is that the 70-something episode Chimera Ant arc, thats basically a huge commentary on war and how simultaneously fucked up and beautiful humanity is, includes a scene where a chameleon man questions if he can trust another guy due to his lack of eyebrows.
I feel like we’ve had a rough few weeks in this joint so I’m gonna make myself feel good and remind y’all of my fave Zacts:
Zayn’s voice is a gift from God brought on Earth to bless us all
Zayn’s face is made to humble us but also remind us every day that there’s beauty in the world and that if we just hang in there, we’ll get to see it once more
Zayn’s nose alone could make empires crumple
Zayn loves animals so much. He literally has a zoo???? His latest videos ends with a monkey and an alligator for no goddamn reason, just cuz Z felt like it…. my fave weirdo
Every single person that’s ever worked with Z has only had positive and warm things to say about him. Gentle, respectful, warm, dedicated, kind…. these were all words used to describe people who’ve met him.
Also Zayn’s an amazing hugger? I mean of course he is, but still??? people always comment on that. And the fact that he smells amazing.
Zayn is aware of his position in the world. He knows who he is and who he represents and what he means to a lot of people and he’s only ever used that position for good and refused to let the world tell him his roots are not good enough.
Zayn is brave. He faces so much hate and discrimination every damn day and he hasn’t let any of it deter him. He always perseveres and prevails and comes out with only positive things. He’s an inspiration.
Zayn loves his fans and is constantly trying to find new ways to reach out to us and makes us feel included in everything he does. Remember when Zayn said he appreciate fanficion writers???? That he encourages all kind of creative endeavours. He sent fanartists their own art on canvas with a personalised note. He organised release parties where he just chills and hangs out with fans.
Remember when Zayn used the puppy filter. Man, that was so dope!
Mind of Mine still gets random, heartfelt praise form the general public, one year later. Because it’s such an authentic and original and raw and beautiful album. An album made with so much love and care and with so much feelings. It’s such a masterpiece.
Zayn cuts his hair and suddenly the whole goddamn world loses it. A true moment of unity. World peace achieved. King of hair styles.
He’s such a warm, loving and funny guy. I just love him to bit and pieces.
hey do you guys wanna know why i became such a strong proponent of “cardassians have tails”? it’s not because i’m a Big Fuckign Scalie, or because i want the aliens to be more alien, or because the idea of having a prehensile tail is so goddamn cool, or even because i’m Literally In Love with the fat gecko tails i’m seeing on some of these garaks you guys are coming up with.
all of those things are true, but i have another reason, that’s much simpler and sillier. it’s the fact that cardassians have a particular unique style of dress that would make a lot of sense with tails.
like, with the exception of military uniforms (and i have to admit that’s a big exception; many, perhaps even the majority of cardassians we meet on ds9, and all of those we see on tng, are in uniform) but with the exception of military uniforms, most cardassian clothes have a sort of skirt-like aspect to them.
male typical clothes are almost all tunics of varying lengths; garak definitely has one that goes down as far as his knees.
(sorry for the blurry screenshot, i was looking to highlight the length of the garment, not take a well composed shot)
now, this one is unusually long, but over half of garak’s outfits - probably over three quarters, actually - are composed of a tunic and pants. and we know that, unusually, garak is actually a reasonably typical cardassian in this aspect of his life (his dress sense), if for no other reason then the makers of star trek work with shoe string budgets and reuse costumes regularly, meaning that we have seen a number of civilian male cardassians wearing garak’s clothes. female cardassians, too, are inordinately likely to wear dresses, particularly longer dresses with looser skirts.
these sorts of clothes provide the perfect way to have a hole in the back of your pants, tights, or underpants for a tail while still preserving your modesty. the tail can be free from clothing yet with the base hidden under the skirt of a dress or tunic.
cardassian civvies are perfect, simple tail-outfits.
“In seventh grade, my entire class went to an old heritage town for about a week.
Since I was a drama student, me and the drama class, about ten people, got to go to the stage and perform there. The theatre was big, bigger than any we had performed in before, and proper, professional-level proper.
So we loved it. After the first practice there, my friend and only other guy had to go to the bathroom, which was far backstage. He made me come with him and stand outside while he was dealing with his needs, cause he was creeped out. So while I was standing there waiting for him to finish his business, the goddamned lights turn off. The ones in the bathroom remained on, but I had to go and turn the hallway lights back on. At the time, I didn’t think much of it. I thought that the other drama kids had played a cruel joke on me, so I remained pretty calm. I find the light switch, turn them back on, and went back to the bathroom.
My friend at that time had finished, and came out, and I hear him down the hallway, “Spitnam? You’re not Spitnam.” I was a bit confused, but then he turns to me, eyes wide as dinner plates. He had seen someone coming down from the other end of the hallway, quickly told me, and then ran back to the stage where the rest of the kids were. I followed.
I then inquired about the lights, asking if they were motion sensitive. They weren’t. I then asked everyone in the theatre at that time if they had turned off the lights. They didn’t. But that wasn’t the last thing, oh no.
Me and bathroom friend came in about halfway into the play, (it was a short skit, about five minutes long,) and during one of our rehearsals, he taps me on the shoulder and points up into the nosebleed section. I look at him, confused, and he says, “Isn’t there someone up there?” I spent a long time looking, and couldn’t find anything, and then our cue came up, so we ran onto the stage. During one of the breaks in my lines, I look up, and there is a figure just chilling in a seat, watching us. I panic a little bit but finish all my lines and go off stage. When Bathroom Friend comes back, I tell him I saw someone up there. He says he did to. After the play is finished, we ask everyone else. They all saw him as well.
Me, being either brave or stupid, decide to go up there and check up close. Bathroom friend came with me. I open the door to the nosebleed section and see this motherfucker sitting in the same seat, then get up as I got closer, make his way up the stairs and walk through a fucking door. Bathroom friend saw it too. My bravery/stupidity continued as I went to those doors and tried to open them, only to find that they were sealed shut somehow, which we later identified as a padlock.
We kept on seeing him every time we went there to practice, and on the day of our performance, I swore I saw him clapping.
Tl;dr: Ghost in theatre turned lights off and watched us perform.”
Honest to god, this is one of my favorite things that has ever been said about Star Wars. I love it because:
1. Anakin in death is just like Anakin in life: Getting special treatment because he’s just that connected to the Force and because he’s so beloved by those in position to give him that special treatment. (Because this is obviously to me about Obi-Wan, especially given how much Obi-Wan loved him.)
2. OBI-WAN LOVED HIM SO GODDAMNED MUCH, YOU GUYS. Even after killing Obi-Wan, even after everything Anakin/Vader did, all the people he hurt and killed, all the horrible crimes he committed, everything that he fucked up, all the betrayals he did, the minute he was Anakin again, Obi-Wan was there to help him and help him back to the Light.
OBI-WAN LOVED HIM HIS ENTIRE LIFE AND LITERALLY BEYOND DEATH.
yall i love you and i’ve been smiling pretty much nonstop for the last several hours because this is so goddamn fun, but it’s also midnight and i think i’m coming down with something, so i’m gonna sign off. i’ll pick up again with the questions tomorrow afternoon! (everything is tagged ‘elsewhere university’ if you want to avoid the deluge)
I guess I gotta get this out of the way, so happy birthday, asshole. I hope you’ve finished rotting and settled into some comfortable void of existence. I hope you figured it all out by now, sorted out all that manic god-complex shit or whatever. I’m glad you’re not around to see the world like it is. I’m sure you would’ve been pleased with the steady crumbling of humanity. I’m glad you died when you did. Not really with the events leading up to it, but since you died then, you couldn’t go on to reign terror on all of the central United States. If you weren’t so bright, I’m sure you would’ve bottomed out and landed somewhere dark and dirty and dead after awhile, driving slowburn, aching terror into everyone around you.
I guess this analysis of you isn’t fair; I never knew you. No one did. We like to think we did. You’re kind of a legend around here; an iconic being frozen youthful and damned in the snapshot of America. I’m sure you would’ve gloated in all the attention you’re still getting, nearly twenty years after the dust settled.
I’m grappling with two polarizing views of you. I’m clutching them both and trying to be okay with it. On one hand, you were a cold-blooded bastard son, a murderer more profound on several levels. You were a ruthless, psychotic being with empty eyes and a soul ripped to shreds. You were worthy of nothing less than eternal damnation.
On the other, I know you were a child, a teenager, a son. A friend, student, a warm supporter. People loved you, you had people you loved. You were a person. I hate knowing that. It’s so easy to just screw our eyes shut tight and chant over and over again that you were a monster, that you couldn’t be worth any affection, that you couldn’t possibly process it or show that to anyone else.Go to hell, go to hell, go to hell. We don’t let each other humanize you, as if you weren’t a human at all.
I still don’t know which perspective is right. I still don’t know which one I want to believe more.
You killed people, but you killed yourself the same way. There’s a very fine line between your mental illness and your actions and how far it can justify it all. All of us are still trying to figure you out. We won’t ever fully understand you.
I don’t know how the idea of something so unimaginable and hellish could reside in a human heart, capable of charity and honesty and love and tenderness. It shouldn’t seem possible.
In the end, Eric, I’m curious. You left the world with so much mystery in shards of glass and bullet holes. I wonder if you’ve grown at all after being dead. I wonder if by now you could’ve peeled off that toxic, malicious persona and healed. It’s been eighteen years since you last laid your eyes on us, but we haven’t stopped staring into you. I hope by rotting you learned your goddamned lesson.
I don’t think dead guys get birthday wishes. So I wish, on your behalf, that your soul somewhere has matured and understood the impact you’ve made on the world. In the end, I guess you got what you wanted. No one will ever forget you.
Do you have a personal favorite fic? Like, that one that you're like "holy fucking shit every single person should read this fic RIGHT NOW"?
Wow that’s not a hard question AT ALL. YOU ARE CRUEL. :P
There are too many incredible fics out there. But I mean if I had to choose, anybody who’s been following me for a long time will probably guess my answer. I can’t help it guys. There’s just something about A Cure For Nightmares by picascribit that I can’t get over. I love it to death, even after rereading it too many times to count.
Let’s give this question a little variety though, lol. One that I read recently that made me think “oh god this is sO GODDAMN AMAZING” was Sex and Dying in High Society by fluorescentgrey. Seriously, I tried to write a rec right after I read it and it was a mess; I was feeling too much to be very coherent. But my final sentence was “100% going on my list of all-time favorites.”
Dean’s not technically drunk when he leans in, but he’s not entirely sober either. In the morning he’ll insist it was the six shots of tequila he downed prior to Cas popping up, but the stupid voice in his head will argue with him otherwise until his dying breath (his actual dying breath). Cas only showed up because Dean was calling for him, in his drunken state, dishevelled and messy haired from the stress of trying to organise an army of angels. Dean meant to yell at him; he wanted to yell at Cas for leaving, for abandoning Dean when the hunter finally felt good about himself. Dean wanted to yell at Cas despite knowing that Cas didn’t up and leave him, but instead only went because Dean told him to. Which is probably why Dean couldn’t quite get the words out properly when Cas showed up. Instead Dean wound his fingers in Cas’ dark locks and kissed him. Cas pulled away, calm and collected but flushed at the cheeks and helped Dean into bed. When Dean wakes up in the morning Cas was gone but the memory wasn’t - Dean finished off the tequila bottle before midday.
The next time Cas appears it’s not because Dean was calling him, or even Sam, but because heaven is stressing him out and he’s slowly coming to terms with the fact that - even though he’s one of the most powerful angels - Cas just simply isn’t prepared for the power. Sam and Dean had split up on two different hunts; Sam hunting a newborn vampire on the rails of going rogue, and Dean investigating a haunting of some old abandoned coal mine. Dean let Cas tag along but kept his distance, worried that his actions a couple weeks before was over the line. (You fucking Usain Bolted over that line dumb-ass, Dean had scolded himself). Turns out hunting with an angel is both parts irritating and helpful. Irritating because Dean just wants to shove him against the wall (tunnel?) and have his way with him, and helpful because what should have taken him two days took three hours tops. Dean sighed unintentionally as Cas pressed two fingers against Dean’s forehead, healing the bleeding cut from where Dean had been thrown into a pile of rocks. Cas didn’t pull away though, and instead found himself leaning over Dean to kiss the corner of his mouth. Dean was left alone, face red and mind going haywire as Cas flapped away, back to heaven.
Dean’s been thinking about it for the past two months. Cas is yet to come back, and Dean is yet to pray for him. Purgatory is gray and cold, full of demons that want to take out their anger on any Winchester they can get their hands on. Dean doesn’t know why Cas ran, doesn’t know why he left Dean in literally the only place worse than hell itself. Benny seems to have his back, but it’s nothing like having his angel next to him. When they finally stumble across Cas one day (technically they’re not stumbling across him, not if the bodies of headless vampires, torn apart werewolves and countless other monsters could have a say) all Dean wants to do is yell at him. Scream at him like he wanted to do years ago when Dean first kissed him, but Cas looks terrified and then he said he did it to keep the monsters one step away from Dean and Dean doesn’t know what to do. They start the trek to the portal, Benny a couple steps ahead of them when Dean spins round suddenly, grabs the front of Cas’ trench coat with both fists and kisses him. He kisses him roughly, pressing against Cas tightly and groaning when Cas kissed back, the angel’s fingers splayed across Dean’s belt. It’s not gentle like their last two kisses, and something in Dean’s brain and stomach and heart (and groin) jump as Cas moans back, kissing him like Cas is a dying man and Dean’s his lifeline. The knowledge that Cas wants him back (and it’s not a drunken kiss or a fleeting brush of their lips after a dangerous hunt) is most definitely what makes Dean have a panic attack when the fact that Dean couldn’t pull Cas out of Purgatory fast enough sinks in. Dean crumbles down in the motel bathroom, shaking and crying, clutching at Sam when his brother finds him until he passes out.
Cas is back and alive and pressed against Dean like they’re trying to mould their bodies together. Sam’s gone a food run (to the nearest mall three hours away), no one’s here to interrupt them and it’s been since six months since Cas showed up. They’ve argued and sworn at each other about Purgatory for half a year and now they’re tearing at each other’s lips trying to win dominance. Cas wins, pinning Dean to the bed and and biting down on Dean’s neck whilst he fumbles with the buckle on Dean’s belt. Dean buries his nose into Cas’ hair, panting and thrusting up into Cas’ hand, whispering his love for the angel and calling him a bastard all at once. Cas licks the newly formed bruise on Dean’s shoulder and proceeds to whisper back his own love for Dean whilst the hunter comes in his pants like a teenager. They lay on the bed and make out until Sam gets back, who can practically smell the sex in the air but chooses not to say anything. Sam checks himself into a separate motel room and Dean spends the night showing Cas what humans find so fascinating about sex.
Days where cases cease to come up are rare, Dean can’t possibly remember the last time it happened but he’s not one to miss out on an opportunity to laze about for the day. When he stumbles his way into the kitchen he finds Cas sitting casually on the kitchen counter, wearing a pair of Dean’s sweatpants and an old black tee shirt. Cas has a coffee mug in one hand and his phone in the other. Dean slides himself in between Cas’ legs, reaching for the angel’s hip and peering into the mug with raised eyebrows. He takes a swing of the coffee before handing it back to Cas, brushing his lips over Cas’ briefly and resting his forehead in the crook of Cas’ neck. Cas sinks his fingers in Dean’s short hair, rubbing at his scalp with his nails as he continues to text Claire.
“You know, I remember a time when you woke up at six every morning.”
Dean groaned into his pillow, pulling the covers up to tuck under his chin before opening one eye. He squinted against the sun to watch as Cas buttoned up his shirt. “I remember a time when you didn’t even sleep.”
Cas winks at him over his shoulder and pulls on a pair of jeans. Dean smiles and closes his eyes again. They gave up hunting a couple years ago, around two if Dean recalls correctly, after a hunt left both of them shaking a little too much for experienced hunters. Sam still hunts, calling up for tips every now and again but otherwise leaving them to keep their little family together. The hunt seemed to show the return of Yellow Eyes after a mother was left dead on the anniversary of her six month old son being born. Turns out it was just a demon trying to make a name for herself, but all it did was give her a one way ticket to the clutches of Crowley’s salted knives and holy water chains. Dean couldn’t put the boy down afterwards, even when the kid’s death grip loosened.
Which is how they adopted Ryan.
Dean opened his eyes again as a tiny patter of feet bounded down the hallway and burst through the master bedroom door. “Daddy!”
Cas laughed as he swung Ryan up into the air, catching him seconds later and planted a kiss to the kid’s nose making Ryan giggle and scrunch his face up. His eyes are brown, gold in the sun and auburn in autumn, but they sparkle like Dean’s and are just the right shade to have both father’s wrapped around his little finger.
The two-and-a-half year old searched the room before his eyes landed on Dean, and he giggled again, leaning out of Cas’ arms towards the bed. Cas made a dramatic gesture of swinging the child onto the bed beside Dean before turning to find his socks.
Ryan crawled his way under the sheets to lay face to face with Dean, who smiled as Ryan lent forwards to kiss his forehead. “Hey, DaDa.”
“Hey, Ry.” Dean chuckled, rubbing his nose with his son’s in an Eskimo kiss that Ryan saw in a cartoon and has forever been obsessed with since.
“Guess what,” Ry stage-whispered, reaching forward to curl his small hand around Dean’s tee shirt.
“What?” Dean stage-whispered back, feeling the bed dip on the other side of Ryan as Cas laid down also.
“Unca Sam’s coming!” Ryan screeched with delight, a wide smile plastered across his face so that his dimple made an appearance on his left cheek.
Dean gasped, feigning ignorance. “No!”
Ryan nodded, giggling but seemingly serious, which halted as he let out a giant yawn. Dean caught a whiff of chocolate that Ryan must have smuggled out of the kitchen whilst he and Cas slept in, but decided not to say anything as Ryan forgot all about “Unca Sam’s” visit and curled forward into Den’s chest. Dean wrapped one arm round the child, pressing a gentle kiss to Ryan’s brown hair that really needs to be cut soon and rubbing his hand down the back of his son’s Iron Man pyjama shirt..
Cas smiled at Dean when he looked up, and lent forward to kiss him. Dean took Cas’ bottom lip between his teeth and tugged ever so slightly. “I love you,” Dean breathed out, blissfully calm, “I love you so goddamn much.”
“I love you too, Dean.” All seriousness, no joking around or teasing. Dean went to lean forward again, whisper back that he knows, that he’s always known, when Ryan tilted his chin up.
“I wuve you fee.”
In unison Dean and Cas looked down at Ryan and chuckled. “We love you more little guy.”
(this is long and I don’t want to put it under a cut xoxo)
So around Thanksgiving time, I was at work and we get a call from the teen room and Mary asks me if I knew anything about Divergent.
“Yeah, I read the whole trilogy,” I say and think hated it but def read it.
“Ok,” she says, “I’m going to send someone over to talk to you.”
Shit, I think, and begin prepping for a Conversation With Someone Who Likes Divergent.
(side note: i am very good at talking about books i do not like with people who loved them and they never get any inkling I did not like them. I’m very good at it.)
So, this older gentleman comes into the children’s room. Cheerful looking guy, probably in his fifties or sixties. He explains that he really loved the movies and after the news about them ditching the last movie he was wondering if it was possible to read Allegiant but just start at the point where the last movie stopped.
I admitted I hadn’t seen any of the movies but I could tell him about how the book ended and we could see if the movie would have taken the same direction?
So we chat about Divergent for a while.
(Now, note, I am wearing a Kylo Ren shirt because my wardrobe is still mainly t-shirts and my god it is hard to dress in Business Casual when the library technically does not enforce a dress code)
He asks if I’m a Star Wars fan. I, being a twenty-three year old girl, obsessed with Star Wars who also has many Strong Opinions about Star Wars, immediately tense up. I don’t like talking about Star Wars with guys because, in general, they’re condescending in some way or just have Terrible Opinions. I’m also immediately put on edge because this is an older guy so… i’m pretty much expecting condescension.
I say yes. He LIGHTS UP. L I G H T S U P. Asks me if I read the books, which books have I read, am I excited for Rogue One, did I like TFA, AND ON AND ON.
We talk about Star Wars for about thirty minutes before he leaves. Twenty-minutes later he COMES BACK. He forgot to tell me something and also have I read Catalyst because he’s reading it now and oh! my! god! and also I have got to read Life Debt because it is amazing and the pieces are falling into place and the picture is getting bigger.
He’s so excited. He’s talking about the EU (he’s read like! all of it!) and just INCANDESCENT. I’m so excited because oh my god I never get to talk Star Wars with someone who just wants to GUSH ABOUT HOW GREAT STAR WARS IS.
So he leaves. A few weeks pass and I have off-desk time and one of my coworkers swings in and is like ‘there’s someone to see you?’
what. i think. why.
IT’S MY STAR WARS FRIEND. (I’m Terrible With Names and I’m like 80% his name is Harold but oh my god guys I don’t know)
He asks if I’ve gotten to Catalyst. I say ‘oh my god no but i bought it literally THE SECOND YOU LEFT’
We talk about Star Wars. He GIVES ME a copy of Life Debt (!!!) and says that the library has been so good to him and honestly i have to read this and i’m very (!!!!)
A week or so later one of my coworkers says that someone stopped by and asked for me but I was off somewhere and he told them not to disturb me and I was like ‘oh! my star wars friend. we talk about star wars.’ He stops by later that day to ask when I was seeing Rogue One. (”Friday morning!” “I’m seeing it Sunday!”) We talk Rey theories. He’s got a bunch of theories that tie her to Luke and I was very “ehhhh idk i think it would be cool if she wasn’t related” and he was like “oh man ABSOLUTELY” which :) He asks if I’ve read other sci-fi books and I tell him that I mostly read high fantasy but I’ve been trying to get more sci-fi because i want to write one. He comments that he stopped in to put the last book of the Old Man’s War on hold and I tell him that i JUST put the first one on hold, to which he shakes my hand and says “Oh man we really are friends.”
So I see Rogue One and one of the first things I think is “Oh my god I can’t wait until he drops by again and we talk about this”
So he stopped by today and just, this man loves Star Wars so much guys and it’s just so amazing to talk to him about it because he knows SO MUCH about it.
“I’ve been a fan since the 70s when all there was was only, you know, zines and magazines,” he said today. “Gosh, I’ve been a fan since i was 3. Star Wars has just always been there,” I reply. “That’s so great!!” he says.
He tells me a Snoke theory he has (it’s good). We talk about how AMAZING Rogue One was. I tell him there’s going to be a Jyn Erso YA book coming out and he got SO EXCITED because he didn’t know. HE’S SO EXCITED. We talk about other things, he guesses my age straight on and then talks about how proud he is that I already have my Master’s and how great it is that I got a job there.
“This library has been really good to me this year,” he says. “It’s a great place and I met you!”
We chat about other sci fi books and he’s like “Make me a list. Make me a list I need to know what you’ve read.”
I talk about how much I love Kylo Ren, immediately feeling nervous because the goddamn internet has conditioned me to now feel anxious admitting how much I love Kylo Ren but he is TOTALLY WITH ME and agrees that the TFA cast are some of the best written characters in anything and oh my god the ending of TFA with the chasm!!!
So anyway I’ve made a new best friend and he’s an older guy who Loves Star Wars.
STUBBORNLY IGNORING CAS AND focusing on dean and how hard it was for him to say what he did to mary, not only to admit it to himself but to say it all out loud, and my heart is so full of pride and love for my son
trusting sam to lead the fight without him and knowing he’d do right
demanding what he deserved and expressing what he thought
not blaming sam for losing his soul anymore
“I had to be more than a brother. I was a father and a mother.”
Character(s): Negan and Sara (original female character) Summary: So, this was a request that I received from @a-girl-interupted: “I had an idea of a character with negan where she eventually becomes his/a wife and somehow he realizes how important it would be to her to have an actual proposal and wedding. We dont want to Negan too soft and the details are up to you but I would cry to see this” Word Count: 8,790 Warning: Smut!!! Author’s Note: BIG THANK YOU TO @ofdragonsanddreams16 for the idea of this story’s proposal!!!! I had fun writing this! I also added a bit of backstory to the new wife hehe. Also, italics are flashbacks! I hope you enjoyed this story, @a-girl-interupted!!! I surely did my best to accomplish what you wanted and I hope I did just that. Enjoy! :)
Sara was a newcomer to the
Sanctuary. After she was situated with her own room, a shower, and a fresh set
of clothes, she finally felt safe. It had been a long time since she felt that
way. She had been with a group prior to the Saviors helping her into this new
community, but even then, she didn’t feel safe.
When she arrived at the
Sanctuary, Sara noticed the gates surrounding the large building. She also took
notice of the dead that were in the front yard.
Suddenly, she was taken out of
her reverie when she heard a loud knock on the door. Simon had told her that
the “boss” was going to be talking to her about options that she could choose
from before she arrived to the Sanctuary.
Slowly opening the door, Sara
widened her eyes. It was Negan. The
same Negan that had made a lasting impression on her when he was in the
hospital with his sick-wife Lucille.
As their eyes met, Sara noticed
the look of familiarity that flashed in his brown orbs. His hair was slicked
back with a slight stubble littering across his face. The red scarf along with
the leather jacket did not go unnoticed, but she felt slightly uneasy at the
sight of his barbed-wire bat.
Here’s the deal: it’s called the Runaways and it’s fuckin rad.
Synopsis: At a yearly family get-together, 5 teenagers and a young girl find out their parents are all members of a fucking cult that just sacrificed a girl, so they all figure out the powers and shit that they got from their parents and then they get the hell out of town (FUCKING DUH) and then their parents frame them for killing that girl and kidnapping the youngest one.
Oh yeah, and this team is exactly the kind of diversityMarvel needs right now. Four words: just. one. white. dude.
They’re lead by Alex Wilder, the incredibly smart son of two crime lords (who is black.)
Then there’s Nico Minoru, a Japanese girl who’s an actual fuckin witch
Our one white guy, Chase Stein, whose only real power is the x-ray goggles and flaming gauntlets he stole from his (abusive) genius dad.
We’ve got Gert Yorkes, who is Jewish and has telepathic control over a fucking dinosaur
There’s also Karolina Dean, an alien lesbian who turns solar rays into rainbow energy blast shit and it’s so goddamn pretty like FX guys are gonna love her
And finally Molly Hayes, an 11-year-old girl with super strength and lots of neat animal hats
And may I mention again, THEY HAVE A FUCKING DINOSAUR