#''a fanfic can be seen as competition—'' bullshit

[sage-nebula]

Anyone who thinks fanfic commissions should be illegal because "you're making money off someone else's IP" better not ever take nor pay for fanart commissions, because that's the same exact goddamn thing.

[zara-renata]

What are your NSFW Sylus thoughts/headcanons? 👀 bc I'd love to hear you go in depth with them and why u view Sylus the way u do bc it seems like everyone kinda has a different view of him. For instance, a big division I've seen is that there's some people who view Sylus as a switch and others view him as a dom or a service top. It seems like some people get personally offended when their view on Sylus is different from another's unfortunately 😅

I get it, people love Sylus a certain way, but I'll never support people trying to kink shame others for wishing Infold had went in a different direction with him or having kink preferences that might go against Sylus' or even having kinks Sylus might not be into. For me, Sylus is mainly a dom. He loves a challenge bc he gets bored easily, yet he also is very competitive, which is why he isn't gonna wanna lose most of the time. He's stubborn too.

Even in No Defense Zone MC wasn't really in full control. Sylus was ordering her around and teasing the whole time, but he clearly thought it was cute seeing MC want to be a little bit more dominant with him. MC was also obeying his orders. Do I think he likes to be called degrading names when he's eating u out? Sure, I could see that. Likes praise? Sure. Do I think he's gonna let you walk him on a leash and be into pegging? Absolutely not 🤣 but that's just MY opinion on him from everything I've gathered. I think he enjoys letting you have some control, but he's gotta be in the right mood for it I think and he probably has things he isn't into like everyone else. Either way, I'd love to hear ur thoughts on this whenever u have the time ❤️

Hi there. I’ve been thinking about this ask since I got it, and one of the things I know for sure is that I’m going to upset someone no matter what I say. But the whole point of me starting to share my fic and being more active on tumblr is to challenge my social anxiety when it tells me that my opinion isn’t of interest to anyone at the least, or offensive/hurtful at the worst. 

So here we go, my answer under the cut.

So to answer this question, I need to get through a few points first before I tell you what I personally believe about Sylus’s sexuality.

I don’t believe in kink shaming either, and I think that peoples’ complaints about the direction Infold takes the LIs are valid. We all want content that we can really relate to, and if the canon take doesn’t satisfy you, one of the great purposes of fanfic is to fix it for yourself and other fans like you. That’s such a huge part of engaging in fandom and even if I don’t agree that the character would actually do what you make him do in your content, if you write it well enough, if you capture his voice, give him logical motivations, respect the core of the character while you do it, then I can be convinced to enjoy it despite it deviating from canon.

That being said, I love Sylus because of his canon characterization, and I do believe that there are some things he would be into, or not into, based on his dialogue in the game itself.

It’s impossible to answer this question personally without telling you the following: I think it’s insane that we as a worldwide fandom and/or global community have restricted ourselves to a strict BDSM mindset of looking at people as belonging to an inflexible binary of dominant or submissive, with the only middle ground being switch, with formal labels and rules of what a “dom” does, what a “sub” does, and so forth, and the value judgments we place on which label you fall under. And what drives me further insane is how much that binary is tied up in so much misogynist bullshit if we’re talking about hetero pairings with a female MC (the power dynamics of a female sub versus a male dom alone is so often written in such a way that the writer’s internalized misogyny results in literally painful-wince-inducing reading). Human sexuality is so fluid, personal, intimate—I think that the average person’s dynamic and preferences change depending on who they’re with, what stage of life they’re in, what scars they bear from past relationships, and even on a day to day basis, how much energy they have, etc. So although all I seem to see in fandom discourse is dom!Sylus, sub!Sylus, I think that mindset is reductive, especially because even with the shit-tastic translation Infold has inflicted on us, they’ve managed to create an incredibly nuanced character who feels real enough to be human. Reducing him to dom, sub, or switch misses so much of his personality and how much he clearly loves and is obsessively devoted to MC and what MC wants.

 Finally, I think every time we’re discussing fictional characters, it’s important to remember who is writing them, and why. Infold is here to make money. They created LIs with a spectrum of traits to appeal to the widest subset of their targeted demographics. As a result, they’ve given the LIs, at least to some extent, both dominant and submissive characteristics, to appeal to the greatest number of players.

We have memories with Sylus and dialogue that indicate he’s dominant: “I prefer to be the one to take the initiative” when you tap his dick too many times in destiny cafe, his outfit descriptions about him getting a thrill of being a predator on the hunt, of dominating his prey. But we also have the no defense zone where he’s in a submissive position, even if people argue that he’s topping from the bottom in that card. Multiple times throughout the game, he lets you do what you want to him, and then says “are you satisfied? Now it’s my turn,” which points to him being a switch. Like, Infold covered all of their bases not only with Sylus, but all of the LIs to some degree.

Ok, with that context, and using the sort of vernacular that makes concepts easily recognizable even if I hate the labels: I think Sylus is a switch. He is first and foremost a hedonist—he is comfortable in his body, he prefers the finest food, drink, atmosphere, clothing, he wants to be entertained, he is constantly fighting boredom and the ennui of cynical disillusionment with the worst of humanity and being the apex predator. He loves pleasure. It doesn’t matter what form that pleasure takes. And he wants pleasure with MC in particular, because he is written by Infold as that devoted—he has a line in the destiny cafe about no one else touching him so intimately before. He’s willing to learn everything about your tastes, and then use what you teach him to pleasure you and himself. On multiple occasions he says “Oh, I suck at this? Then teach me.” So even if initially he’s shit in bed, he’ll only make a mistake once and then blow your mind on his next attempt. Sylus wants to fuck you the way you want him to fuck you. So if you want to peg him, "well sweetie, I have a prostate for a reason." You want him to choke you with a tie and fuck you like an animal, he’s down. He’s so self-assured and interested in what you want and giving both himself and you pleasure that he doesn’t believe in the “dominant = most powerful, most masculine, having the upper hand, winning” perspective that so many writers in this fandom seem to assign to the term dominant. Conversely, being submissive, or the recipient of penetration, or letting the other take control isn’t a weakness in his eyes. He “submits” because it pleases you, because he enjoys being at your mercy, he’s thrilled to have someone he trusts enough to have power over him, and that someone is you. He trusts you to make him feel fucking good, and if you can do that by putting him on his knees, who is he to say no? If on the other hand, you submit to him, he thinks you’re the most fearless, strongest badass there is for letting a literal killer who everyone else on the planet fears put you in a vulnerable position. The connotations of dominant = strong, superior and submissive = weak, inferior, losing just do not compute for him. I don’t think he’d just think of you as cute for wanting to dominate him. I think he’d think you’re magnificent for daring to try, he'd be incredibly curious how you intend to do it, and then if you truly are a dominant powerhouse, he’d happily drown in the pleasure you give him.

Now, again, this all assumes that you, yourself, are into dom/sub dynamics. Which so many people simply aren’t. And I think if you just love him, and want to have sex with him because you’re attracted to him and want to share that intimacy with him, or you don’t believe that every single sexual encounter has to contain the rigid dom/sub binary or hierarchy of positions, that you experience attraction and sex as two people on equal footing sharing a life and a bed, he’d happily fuck you in missionary for the rest of his life, luxuriating in being able to watch your expressions, of looking into your eyes, of leaning down to breathe in the scent of your neck, and just loving you until you both come and then have a snack and watch something stupid on tv.

Lastly, I do believe that there are some things Sylus wouldn’t be into, no matter how sexually adventurous he is. I don’t think he’d be into degradation, at least towards you: he is not going to call you cruel names, because you’re the person he cherishes the most in the world. I think he’d just straight-forwardly tell you, “Beloved, that doesn’t do anything for me. If you really want me to, I can try,” but you’d know his heart just isn’t in it. He isn’t going to physically hurt you, either in a pain play way or just being too eager to fuck you to properly prep you. Edit: just look at the way this man handles his gun during quality time. He's not going to treat your body with less sensual respect that that fucking gun. If sex hurts for you, he’d feel like he’s doing it wrong, and he’d slow down or try a different approach until it doesn’t hurt, or he’d tell you he isn’t interested in whatever pain you’re asking for just like with the degrading language. If you’re into degradation, with him being the receiver, I can see him being into that because he seems to be so amused by you when you’re mean to him, but even then, there are so many times in game where he says stuff like, “you talk to that person so nicely, why aren’t you that nice to me” or how happy he gets when you do start doing kind things for him, or saying kind things. I think he lives for your praise much more than anything else, but whether you’re calling him names or calling him beloved, both are good, because you’re right there, finally, looking at him, loving him, and he can finally breathe again after so long without you.

And as for how I’m writing him in the current fic: I’m writing him with all of the foregoing in mind, and will be highlighting what kind of lover I think he is for this particular MC. I could just as easily write him being a very different lover, but still in-character, for an MC who is not so damaged and has a much more dominant personality in the bedroom (as opposed to current MC who is pretty much only dominant when killing and withdrawn/timid outside the battlefield, and who enjoys the soft, kindness-driven taking-the-lead loving that Sylus is capable of displaying).

Thank you for coming to my ted talk. And thank you for the interesting ask! Even if I disagree with your or anyone else’s take on him, at the end of the day we all love this character, and what you want or need from him is valid, even if it’s not to my taste or in line with how I view him.

[dosthoeyevsky]

11th Street Kids DnD Headcanons

Hello it’s hbo peacemaker brainrot hours, have some headcanons

It’s Adrian who first brings up the idea of group DnD nights because god help him if he doesn’t try and drag as many of his friends as possible into one of his favourite hobbies like a friendly autistic black hole

Economos and Adebayo are the easiest to convince, John’s played before on and off and had an okay experience, Leota’s never played but she’s seen people talk about things like the adventure zone and dimension 20 and she thinks it looks fun and in her wheelhouse

Chris is next to join in, he likes to play the part of the meathead jock who has no time for dweeb pastimes but we all know he’d actually love and get super into the rp power fantasy of it all

Chris probably even overheard a few of Adrian’s DND games while hanging out with Gut Chase way back when and while they absolutely bullied the shit out of Adrian and his friends for it, Chris does begrudgingly admit that it actually kinda looked fun and interesting

Harcourt is tougher to crack because she doesn’t know anything about dnd outside the nerd stereotypes of sweaty nerds in a basement in full cosplay spouting incomprehensible high fantasy bullshit and initially turns the group down outright

it takes a lot of convincing from Leota that it’s actually a super fun creative outlet, a promise (read: bribe) of free alcohol at the session and at least 2 sets of puppy eyes (you guess whose) before she eventually caves

Murn’s alive in this scenario because I said so. He declines (at first) but we’ll get back to him. 

Everyone kind of initially dreads that Adrian’s going to run a homebrew that veers slightly too hard into autobiographical fanfic to be comfortable but he actually runs something cool, beginner friendly, and with some really interesting story seeds that could turn into an engaging multi-year campaign.

Leota makes a gnome ranger with a cowboy gimmick and corgi companion that she rides into battle like an adorable fluffy steed

Chris rolls an obvious self-insert aarakokra paladin that looks like a bald eagle and has huge eagle muscles and gets all the eagle ladies

Everyone guesses that Harcourt’s going to play a rogue (except for chris, who desperately hopes she plays a hot tiefling bard for his character to romance)

However, Harcourt surprises everyone by preparing her character ahead of time. She decides to play an aasimar paladin that’s a thinly-veiled parody-slash-one-up of chris’s character, because she saw “creative outlet” and read “lighthearted petty revenge against chris for being an ass with absolutely no affectionate intent behind it at all.” 

John is hoping that this means he’s finally going to get to play the cool edgy rogue of his dreams instead of getting shoehorned into playing a cleric again but upon seeing that the party consists of two paladins and a ranger he sighs and goes “fuck it, cleric it is.”

Session Zero is an absolute duuuuumpster fire. Playing DnD can really expose a lot about what a player is like as a person and as it turns out, Harcourt is EXTREMELY competitive and it kind of throws off the entire vibe of the table. She and Chris are insufferable. Rules are flat out ignored. John is tired. Adrian is trying to get a word in edgewise and that just makes everyone even angrier. Leota came out to have a good time and now her coworkers are fighting. 

John eventually breaks, snaps at everyone that dnd is about collaborative storytelling, tells adrian to actually step up and try and make the game fun for everyone instead of just enabling his best friend’s bullshit, tells chris and emilia to knock it off, and goes home early to gripe about the experience on r/rpghorrorstories. He regrets the outburst, but more than anything he’s disappointed that he didn’t get to have fun with his friends.

Adrian finds the post that evening, reflects on it, and, surprisingly, it strikes a chord. The goal of having fun did get away from him there and he has a one-on-one with Economos to try and smooth things over. 

Chris, Emilia and Leota agree to give it a second chance too, and they realise that not only is the party unbalanced, but so is the group dynamic at the table. 

So this time, they try and get Murn to join in.

It takes even longer to convince Murn than it did to convince Harcourt. 

The group had to resort to a fully referenced powerpoint presentation. 

It was awesome. 

Murn agrees to it on the basis that it makes a good leadership and teamwork exercise. 

So session zero take 2 happens. 

Harcourt rerolls her character, and makes a half-orc fighter. She’s still ruthlessly competitive in battle, but shifts her focus towards having fun with the group. 

Murn gets to be the cleric. He had no ideas for his character so he just picked his character archetype and backstory verbatim from the player handbook. bless murn, he’s boring but we love him

Economos retools his edgy rogue concept to be a college of whispers bard instead, finally finding a happy medium between picking a class based on the party’s needs and playing a fun character.

Much, much later, either John or Adebayo step up to DM to give Adrian a break, and they very quickly realise why Adrian doesn’t play. He’s an absolute nightmare at the table who is somehow both a ruthlessly pedantic rules lawyer and a murder hobo who has a lifelong ban on playing casting classes from basically every other tabletop group in evergreen for trying to break the game as much as possible without actually cheating. He’s tried to make the peasant railgun happen. Ditto the bag of holding black hole glitch, chicken nugget surprise, and a whole slew more gamebreaking tactics that nobody would have thought possible. The monk character he creates is hilarious though, and he becomes a recurring minor NPC in the regular campaign. 

On the day they push all the desks together to make a large DnD table, and the stationery cabinet is raided for notepads and pens.

Adrian brings all this really nice DnD stuff with him, he has this armful of books, a colour coded binder of DM notes, immaculately hand-painted minis at the ready, he brings the nice maps, he even brings a fancy bluetooth speaker to play cool ambient music for the session. And he had all that shit just sitting in his car. Y’know. For emergencies. 

He also went way overboard and bought everybody a new set of dice each in colours he thinks they’ll like. He would’ve bought everyone custom minis, dice bags and notebooks on top of that too but he’s already overdrawn on his bank account so  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Everyone else is on snack duty. Economos brings chips and salsa, Adebayo brings homemade cupcakes that she made with her wife, Harcourt was going to bring nothing but eventually caved and brought jello shots, and Chris and Murn both turned up with carrot sticks and hummus because there needs to be a healthy option and when they realise they brought the same thing they just glare at each other like rival PTA moms at a bake sale

Even though Murn doesn’t eat he still went that extra step of making the hummus himself at home with nice olive oil and a paprika garnish instead of buying it from the store like chris did, but chris did bring beer with him so that basically makes it a draw.

[fanfic-corner]

Destiel

It’s my birthday tomorrow, and to celebrate, I’ve compiled a list of my favourite fics! I’ve read a lot of Destiel fics over the past year, but these are the ones that have stuck with me the most. I’ve not put as much detail in as I usually do because otherwise we would be here forever, but I am begging you to read these fics. They’re all amazing.

Kiss You When It’s Dangerous by zoemathemata (@zoemathemata) on AO3. (57,593 words).

It’s adorable. The plot is fabulous. It’s my all time favourite fic. Please, I am begging you, just read it.

Stand By Me by whelvenwings (@whelvenwings) on AO3. (31,252 words).

The first Destiel fic I ever read, and it’s managed to stay with me this whole time.

Angel’s Wild by LimonadeGaby and riseoftefallenone on AO3. (389,271 words).

The pining is unbearable but it’s all worth it in the end. The ultimate slow burn.

The Tea is Decaf by mnwood (@tomhardysteeth) on AO3. (3,673 words).

Cas is adorable. Eileen is adorable. Everyone is adorable.

a turn of the earth by microcomets on AO3. (95,274 words).

Of course I’ll rec the ultimate John Winchester bashing fic. The plot is so amazing and it is written excellently.

the inexhaustible silence of houses by Askance on AO3. (31,820 words).

This was beautifully written, made me cry, and the ending haunts me to this day.

Forget-Me-Not Blues by noangelsinthegarrison (@aaziraphales) on AO3. (68,689 words).

Jesus Christ, I have not read another fic where these two are such blatant idiots. That being said... I love it. Everything about it is amazing.

the cost of a thing by quiettewandering (@wanderingcas) on AO3. (74,198 words).

So cute! All the angst! My all time favourite trope and absolutely the best take on it!

In All Your Borrowed Finery by vanishingact (@vanishingactblog) on AO3. (67,950 words).

Okay this is adorable and you can’t convince me otherwise. Every time I read a fic with Gabriel in, I miss him just a bit more.

Down Like Water by museaway (@museaway) on AO3. (14,512 words).

I reread this occasionally just to feel something. I literally had to check if I misread the tags like 3 times and I cry every. single. time.

Partnered by K_K_TiBal (@thebloggerbloggerfun) on AO3. (28,112 words).

This is so fucking cute. The artwork is gorgeous. And, now I ship Jody and Donna. All round win.

Black Swans by omphalos and Wolfling on AO3. (66,455 words).

Okay so maybe this is more Sabriel than Destiel, but it was written amazingly and the plot was phenomenal!

this is a good thing, dean (prayer is a sign of faith) by cascountsdeansfreckles on AO3. (529 words).

The one time Cas can’t hear his prayers... I had to include a 15x18 fic in here somewhere, and this one set me off.

Purgatory, director’s cut by runsinthefamily on AO3. (23,722 words).

This was beautiful. It felt hypnotic, almost like poetry, and I absolutely cried at the end.

The House on the Ocean Road by coffeeandcas (@coffeeandcas) on AO3. (111,351 words).

This was gorgeous! Dean and Cas as parents was adorable, and Jimmy was such a fucking icon I don’t even know where to start. Also, not the weirdest past Cas ship I’ve ever seen (but it’s up there).

Broadway Musical by Griftings on AO3. (12,453 words).

The King and Queen of the crack fics. I adore the ‘did you fuck the Michael sword’ vibes and the formatting just makes everything so much funnier.

How Many Slams In An Old Screen Door [podfic] by Tenoko1 (@tenoko1) on AO3. (1hr 50mins).

Before we were shoved back into lockdown, I used to listen to podfics on the way to/from school, and this has to be my all time favourite so far. The asexual representation was fantastic, the plot was hilarious, and (as always) it was read beautifully.

When Charlie Met Cas by riseofthefallenone on AO3. (24,666 words).

This has to be thee funniest fic ever written. I don’t make the rules.

Boneless Wings by PallasPerilous (@pallasperilous) on AO3. (4,333 words).

The art is gorgeous (I’d literally just finished watching Pan’s Labyrinth which was terrifying) and it was such a brilliant parody of all the other wing fics out there (not that I don’t love them too!)

Grace by july_19th_club (@july-19th-club) on AO3. (5,164 words).

This was gorgeous and now I really want to see it filmed! It is so much better than the ending we got. I would say the author should work for them, but... frankly, they deserve better.

It Started With a Fanfic Competition by Tenoko1 (@tenoko1) on AO3. (124,487 words).

This was written beautifully. It was so wholesome, not afraid to call the characters out on their usual bullshit, and has genuinely more character development than the entire 15 year long show.

Serendipity by whelvenwings (@whelvenwings) on AO3. (23,891 words).

I absolutely adored every character in this (and thoroughly enjoyed guessing who was going to show up next!) and the plot was fabulous!

The Mute!Cas ‘verse by Princess_Aleera on AO3. (148,656 words).

Oh man. I wasn’t sure at first, but this is now maybe my favourite universe out there. The fluff was unbelievably fluffy, the angst was quality pain, and that’s without mentioning the fact the end had me ugly sobbing. On Christmas Eve.

When Dinosaurs Ruled The Earth by Mishafied on AO3. (68,926 words).

Oh my lord, what about this isn’t amazing? The casting was fabulous, the amount of research was obvious and really paid off, and I mean... Jurassic Park AU! It made me desperate to rewatch the films, too.

The Passion of the Christ (and his angelic ex-boyfriend) by Bzzee (@clarafordahwin) on AO3. (4,972 words).

I am going straight to Hell, and it is because of this fic right here. That being said, this is top quality crack and I’ve sent it to everyone I know just for the trip (two of them had never watched SPN. One asked me if Jesus was actually in it).

You Can Keep Holding On by NorthernSparrow on AO3. (352,388 words).

I won’t spoil it, but one of the best plot twists of all time! The exploration of Dean & Cas’ relationship, the detail put into the lore, the foreshadowing... amazing.

Apres by imogenbynight (@imogenbynight) on AO3. (24,045 words).

This was so adorable - Cas and Dean deserved a holiday in France!

I hope you enjoyed them! I’ve really been struck - especially over quarantine - with appreciation for all the writers out there who are giving us this professional quality content for free. I genuinely don’t know what I’d do without you, which is why I’ve done my best to hunt you down and tag you so you can take my love! There are a hundred other fics that I could have included on here as well, or ones that I’ve read since making this list. Thank you all so much for giving us these wonderful stories!

[sweetiepie08]

Rebel Z (Chapter 10 Final)

nvader Zim fanfic

While analyzing Zim’s PAK for weaknesses, Tak discovers strange coding that sends her on a search for answers. The clues lead her to uncover a conspiracy that governs all of Irken society. When the truth sends her on the run, she has no choice but to return to the one place the Tallest would never willingly go: Urth.

Meanwhile, Dib has noticed odd changes in Zim’s behavior. Has the invader simply grown bored of his mission over the last few years, or is there something more interesting going on?

People who asked to be tagged: @incorrect-invader-zim , @messinwitheddie, @reblogstupids, @cate-r-gunn

If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list please let me know.

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9. Chapter 10. 

Thank you for reading! I do plan to continue the story in a sequel fic, but I may take a short hiatus first. I hope you enjoyed this!

Be on the lookout for the next book in the series, RevolutionZ! In which Zim and Tak attempt to join the Resisty and gain new companions! Dib fills his gap year by joining an alien rebellion! Gaz gets dragged in too! And what happened to Zim in Death Melee is explained! 

However, I will most likely only be posting links to Ao3 than full chapters to Tumblr. Again, Thank you everyone for reading!

[-]

“So, what exactly the fuck was all that stuff with the punch about?” Dib asked once they were a comfortable distance away form the Massive.

Zim glared straight ahead at the stars. “It’s nothing that concerns you, human.”

“Bullshit!” Dib slammed his hand down on the control panel. “Your little stunt could have gotten us killed. Out with it!”

Zim gritted his teeth and gripped the steering mechanism until his knuckles quaked. Dib braced himself for the inevitable screaming denial. Instead, Zim let out a pained sigh. “Fine, if you must know, I figured out three Urth years ago that my mission was a sham and my leaders were trying to have me killed, so I took revenge. Happy?”

“We know all that,” Tak snapped. “And anyway, I told you your mission was a lie a long time ago. What I want to know is how you managed to betray the Tallest without your treasonous thoughts setting of your life clock.”

“Yeah, and who’s Spek?” Dib added.

“You wish to hear Zim’s tale of woe?” He clenched his fist and heaved out another sigh. “Fine. Three Urth years ago, the Tallest contacted me, telling me they selected me to participate in Death Melee, an inter-galactic event that all would be watching.”

“The one where they throw criminals on a planet together to fight to the death?” Tak deadpanned. “That was your first clue?”

“They told me the rules had changed and it was now a contest of elite warriors. For my partner, they gave me a Spek, a smeet just shy of his cadet years. He hadn’t even seen his first cycle yet…” Zim’s fists shook as he cut himself off.

“Since you’re still alive, I’m assuming you won,” Dib said.

“Yes, but…” his gaze fell to the floor. “Yes. Anyway, throughout the Melee, it became clear to me that the Tallest lied. This was still a game for criminals, but Spek…” Zim narrowed his haunted eyes, “he was only there to lessen my chances.”

Dib watched, mesmerized. He thought he’d seen the many moods of Zim. He’d seen everything from proud boasting, to spiteful rage, to pathetic schmooping. But this, this was something else entirely, something he never expected to see from the alien. True remorse.  

“On my journey back to Urth,” he continued, “I had too much time to think and when made it back to m base, I was done with all of it.” Rage grew in his voice with every word. “I knew they lied. I knew they’d been lying. For a moment, I thought, if they didn’t want my genius, maybe someone else would. And that thought was enough to set off my life clock. Instead of simply ripping out my feedback chip, I infected it with a virus that sends the Control Brains a loop of my Urth memories, preventing it from receiving new thoughts and experiences.” A bitter, satisfied smile came to his face. “As far as I can tell, it hadn’t noticed anything was off until now.”

“And the machines I saw you building?” Dib pressed.

Zim drew himself up. “I have a contract with the Resisity. I build them machines, they appreciate my genius and send me monies.”

“And that’s what you’ve been doing for three years?” Dib asked, voice sripping with skepticism.

Zim nodded and said nothing more.

Dib stared at him, trying to get a read on this whole tale. He wasn’t sure what to believe. Zim’s reason for existence seamed to be pleasing his Tallest. The little green monster talked of nothing else since arriving on Urth. He couldn’t imagine Zim wanting anything else and he’d fallen for the schmoopy act before. But this was not schmoop. It was too subtle, too quiet. And that betrayal of his Tallest couldn’t be denied. Something had truly changed.

Dib looked to Tak to gauge her opinion, but her face revealed nothing except careful calculation.

“I’d heard the Resisty had been growing and gaining power,” she mused. “New technology granted them upsetting victories and made them more of a problem than they once were. They could be the key. We need to fight if we ever want a chance of defeating the Control Brains and freeing our people, and for that, we’ll need an army. With your connection and my information, we could pose a real threat to the Empire.”

Dib expected Zim to launch into another tirade about how he wasn’t in it for the politics. That this was all a personal mission and he had no interest in going rogue. That did not happen.

Instead, Zim said nothing for a long time. He simply stared through the windshield in tense silence. But then, a grin grew slowly on his face. “I’m in.”

[-]

When they made it back to Earth, they found that Gaz made use of MiMi and Mini Mouse as gaming companions, Dad bought her excuse that Dib was hanging out at Zim’s house, and that he hadn’t even stopped home long enough to notice the two additional robots in the living room.

Dib went straight to his room and laid out all of his recording devices. He had the notes he took the night Zim and Tak rambled drunkenly on the couch. He had the audio recording of the old man Irken that he couldn’t wait to translate. And he had the spy camera he’d been wearing to capture the whole experience. He never got so much undeniable proof on one mission before, and no one, to his knowledge, had this much evidence of this quality ever. He’d be king of the Swollen Eyeball network if he showed even a fraction of…

His eyes drifted to the Swollen Eyeball emblem pinned to his bulletin board and he let out a sigh. The Swollen Eyeball… what a joke. They’d been reduced to a bunch of anti-science conspiracy nuts. The organization became a competition to see who could shout their wildest theory the loudest. What were they compared to a real evil alien empire, a real soul-sucking, Lovecraftian horror, and a real space alien rebellion?

No. This was bigger than some crack-pot conspiracy group. This rebellion universe-shattering consequences. And he was going to be part of it.

[-]

Out in his ship, Zim stared at his PAK connector with warry eyes. He wasn’t sure what held him back now. His stunt on the Massive already solidified his traitor status, but this felt different, more official. It was one thing to enact vengeance on those who betrayed him. It was quite another to completely detach himself from society.

He’d been unwaveringly loyal to the Empire since his conception, but they didn’t want him. He’d seen that years ago. So what was he waiting for?

He disconnected the PAK from his back and ignored the lifeclock in the corner of his eye as he plugged it in. He opened the hatch, clicked a pair of tweezers in his fingers, then reached them toward his feedback chip.

At a light tug, his computer’s voice gave an automated warning.

You are attempting to remove the feedback chip. Doing so is an act of treason against the Irken Empire. Are you sure you want to proceed?

Zim closed his eyes and pulled the chip free.

[-]

Tak’s footsteps echoed as she walked across the concrete garage floor. MiMi’s metallic feet clacked beside her. Apart from that, the room was silent. She was used to silence. One grows accustomed to it when traveling alone through space. But these last few days had been anything but. And with Zim as her dubious ally, silent moments like this were certain to be few and far between.

And yet, this moment, she felt the need to fill it with something.

She popped open the windshield of her ship and hopped inside. “MiMi, my disc please.” Mimi reached into her head and took out the Urth data storage disc. Zim wasn’t the only one with a secret stash.

Tak took the disc from Mimi and placed it in a tray on the ship’s control panel. “Ship, track six please.” As she hopped out, music began to play. Smooth, jazzy horns filled the air and the singer began crooning.

Maybe this time, I’ll be lucky. Maybe this time he’ll stay…

The song was from an Urth performance art piece. The vocalist sang about some male mate. That part didn’t interest Tak in the slightest. Still, there was something about it...

Not a loser anymore, like the last time and the time before…

The song continued to play as Tak opened the engine access panel and began her work. While manipulating the many gears and wires, she found a few interesting repair methods that the human implemented over the years. Many employed the use of an Urth bonding strip called “duct tape”, which she had to admit came in handy. The human didn’t do a bad job, even if it was pretty slap-dash.

All the odds are in my favor, something’s bound to begin…

She finally untangled a mess of wires and reconnected them.

It’s gotta happen, happen sometime…

She fused together the final wire and the ship hummed to life. Fuel Regulation Systems online.

Tak smiled, “Okay Mimi, looks like we’re finally getting somewhere.” She ducked back into the access panel as the song his its crescendo.

Maybe this time I’ll win.

[archetypal-archivist]

My Beloved, Penis

Fuck it. I was infected by Penis SMP by @demonboyhalo reblogging a bunch of it and the lack of consistent lore bugged me, so I somehow banged out 2000+ words of fanfic about the Penis SMP and how it got started. Lots of internet humor and classic MInecraft shenanigans in this one folks. *slaps roof* This baby can fit so much crack treated seriously, lol. This is also up on my AO3, Zazibine, if you would prefer to read it there.

_-_-_-_

It was never supposed to get so big. It was just an SMP with a couple friends of his he had met from the Hypixel discord server, where he had logged on simply to trash talk the absolute asshole who had dared to kill him last minute in bedwars, only to stumble upon said asshole- going under the name shittyfartbaby69 of all things- complaining to his girlfriend(?) Milfboss in the voice chat. Thirty minutes later of awkward hellos and the manliest of bitching at each other (with Milf chiming in every once in a while to roast them both), and PenisUnavailable had perhaps his first Minecraft friend in, like, forever.

Then Admiral_Anus had entered chat, bitching about his competitor in ABBA Mining and his bullshit bad luck and the whole process repeated. By the end of the day, Penis had three new friends, a private discord server for the four of them, and a promise to meet up with them in Hypixel next Sunday for the ultimate round of bedwars.

The game went spectacularly. Somehow, Admiral had some of the best bridging skills any of them had ever seen, and between Milfboss' terrifying Scottish screaming and pvp and Shitty with his clutch TNT skills, the three of them almost made up for Penis' awful depth perception. They still lost around forty percent of their games, but that was certainly better than Penis' own abysmal record, not helped with his habit of walking off the edge at inconvenient times.

And it was... fun. Usually bedwars was just him playing in his bedroom alone for an hour before he rage-quit and went back to survival for a bit before he died to fall damage and rage quit that too. But shittyfartbaby69 would crack dirty jokes that he'd never even heard of before, and Milfboss would roast him for looking it up on reddit and Shitty would cuss her out as he tried to prove that no, he was being original- all while Admiral would comment of them as if they were a sideshow display. Then Admiral_Anus would turn around and knock an enemy player off their island with some clever pvp and they would all hoot and holler and swear for a while before going back to their conversation, joking about forgetting the topic and starting up a running gag about something new.

And their accents, mmm. PenisUnavailable would never say it, but he really was as American as white Wonder bread and Milfboss' Scottish brogue, Admiral's smooth British snark, and Shitty's shrieking in Australian, well. Ear candy, you know? Even if he teased them mercilessly for pronouncing shit wrong, like "buhguhr". Ppffttt, it still cracked him up how Milfboss had threatened to murder him after the dictionary app on his phone had proved him right that it was actually "Bur-gur", even if Admiral kept insisting it was pronounced "bruh-girl".

Four hours and twenty-eight wins later, they had agreed to meet up the next day to play again, preferably at an hour that wasn't two am for Shitty again. (It was two am for Shitty again, although that was because they played for six that time.) Eventually, it just became a regular thing, them playing bedwars and competing at ABBA Caving- the one game Penis was unnaturally good at, much to Admiral's annoyance- to the point where they ran out of funny jokes about their competitors and the game itself and started talking personal anecdotes.

Milfboss owned a motorcycle. Admiral, entirely independently, also owned a motorcycle, as that was the only vehicle of reasonable speed and style that could actually handle the London traffic. Shitty couldn't drive at all, something about never passing his driving test. Admiral ate cheese at breakfast. Shitty liked to burn his garbage in a metal oil drum in his backyard. Milfboss posted herself singing covers of shit over on Youtube. And it wasn't just real life stuff either- their minecraft skills were also on the table for them all to collectively roast.

Admiral had never seen a single Minecraft Championship. Milfboss thought a flat cobblestone roof was entirely acceptable. Shitty's favorite block was the flint and steel. (That's not a block, sixty-niner. Shut up, is too. OoOh, real clever, 'shut up'! Uh, how about no? How about I fuckin' make you, ever think 'a that? No nono nonono, I'm on two hearts! I'm on two hearts, stop!) It made him curious, honestly. He wanted to see Milf's builds for himself, get revenge on Shitty, see if Admiral really could beat the Ender Dragon with a knockback stick like he said he could.

So he made a minecraft server. And they all joined it. (And stuck PenisUnavailable with the bill, suckaaahhh~!)

Predictably, it all went to Hell in a hand basket pretty quick.

See, it's one thing to play with nutters like his friends in a structured set up like Hypixel games, it's quite another to try and keep a semblance of order in an open world survival server like the Penis SMP. The first five minutes had been him trying to explain the rules and teleporting everyone back to spawn over and over as they tried to "escape the cops," ie, him. The next five minutes was Shitty scream-laughing "scatter!" and other John Mulany references down the mic as everyone ran off to start their houses. Penis, as he was still "god" at that moment, used admin commands to find the closest flower field biome to settle into, hoping for some- ha- peace and quiet.

Shitty, inevitably, ended up trying to settle in the fucking Nether. Like a mad lad, you know, as you do when you are apparently obsessed with all things lava. Milfboss ended up making an oak plank box of a "tree house" in a dark oak forest, while Admiral_Anus picked a nearby swamp for his starter base. Outside of that, they just kinda vibed in discord as they tried to fend off the mobs and get enough resources to try and build up houses that were a bit more than cobblestone towers and wood boxes- er, mostly. Milf kinda just fucked off to go mining, found a skeleton spawner by chance, and made a set of iron gear to stand in the dungeon room with to just chill and kill mobs for a while. She ended up with something like 45 levels and burned her only diamond on an enchanting table so she could buff the Hell out of her iron weapons and armor.

Penis, rather typically, he though to himself, put together a basic sheep farm and started work on a cute little cobblestone cave base. He managed to get a whole twenty by twenty block room done and fully furnished before he noticed the chat full of Shitty's death messages and went to go investigate. After nearly dying in lava twice, he managed to find Shitty's pile of items floating on a basalt pillar about a hundred blocks out from his... base?

It was a soccer ball. Shitty's base was a perfect fucking spherical soccer ball made up of quartz blocks and basalt. Just. What. The Fuck??? Then out popped shittyfartbaby69 and it was PenisUnavailable's turn to misjudge a jump and plummet right into lava. Fifteen minutes and much shrieking later about losing his diamond pick, and it turns out that Shitty didn't really care about his lost items, as he really only had four gold picks, a stack of dark oak, two furnaces, a bucket, and thirteen cooked mutton to his name. Not even a bed, the fucker. He just ran back to his portal from spawn every time he just burned to death, taking the chance to gather resources on the way back each time.

And no, he wasn't following a tutorial for his "football" base. Jerk. (Although Penis did have to admire his determination...)

The day ended on Milfboss, Shitty, and Penis reconvening back at spawn to try and hunt down Admiral_Anus, who they found later having built a thirty block tall castle of all things. Out of cobble stone and the windows weren't quite even, but still, it was pretty impressive. And of course, when presented with a castle, what can what do but siege it? So they lay siege to the castle and Milfboss curb-stomped Admiral in pvp and laid claim to the throne, crowning herself queen before summarily throwing the rest of them out. It was a good day.

And the day after was a good day. They played dodge ball crossed with hide and seek in forest around Penis' house with arrows supplied by Milfboss. And the day after that, too, where they had a building competition using nothing but cobble stone, specifically to spite Milfboss, who had kicked all of their asses the day before. In fact, three wonderful weeks passed of doing normal Minecraft shit and being friends passed by, and every bit of it was great fun.

And then came the fucking role play.

PenisUnavailable would have liked to preface that with he only participated under duress, but really, Milfboss had been queen for too long and nobody wanted to risk TNT cannoning any of Shitty's nice builds, so. Well, the castle was better than his drafty cave, alright? It was cold and wet and didn't have a proper door because aesthetic (and because it usually took him several tries to work an iron pressure plate door), so there were far too many mobs wandering in at night and spawn camping him. He and Shitty had almost the same number of deaths and Shitty lived in the fucking Nether.

So yeah. Castle time, baby! Daddy needs a new home! And Admiral obviously wasn't happy living out of Milf's awful tree house hot box where they all did drugs together on day fifteen and it still smelled of burnt wheat seeds, aka "weed." It was only obvious that they teamed up to try and take back the castle.

The battle itself didn't exactly go great, but it wasn't exactly horrible either. A lot of shouting shit at each other for fifteen minutes, the majority of which he wouldn't remember until it was too late- something about server unity?- only to find out that it wasn't two on one girl boss, it was two on a girl boss and her "baked out of his mind" henchman, also known as Shitty in a squirrel furry skin.

The ears man. Those stupid (cute) ears.

And then they were running for their lives because Milf had somehow gotten her hands on a flame bow with infinity enchants.

It all culminated in a dramatic stand-off in front of Shitty's Nether Soccer ball, Milf on one side, diamond axe in hand, not a bit of armor on because of an unfortunate run in with lava, Penis and Admiral on the other, picks in hand, threatening to tear down shittyfartbaby69's base. Shitty wasn't online just then to comment, but they could all hear him click-clacking away on his keyboard so he obviously hadn't gone to sleep just yet like he said he had. At an impasse, and unable to justify letting her teammate's home be used as collateral, Milfboss stood down and gave up her "crown," an enchanted golden Prot IV helmet she had gotten off a skeleton from her spawner.

Then the great betrayal, the beginning of the end. Shitty came back online. 96-Cam joined the game, not that they noticed in the chaos. Admiral-Anus cackled wildly and PMed Milfboss the message that Shitty had sent him, giving Team Gay Sex permission to tear down his base in the name of winning the war if it came down to it- making Milf's sacrifice worthless in the end. Penis gave another dramatic speech, circling around Shitty, who was acting weirdly apologetic to Milf about betraying her and still wearing that fucking squirrel furry skin.

"You see Milf, there's one thing more powerful than a girl boss, and when it comes down to wars between kingdoms, there's something you need to remember!" Penis got out his golden ax, helpfully labeled 'Piss Off'.  "And that's a dilf with something to lose!" An enderpearl in his off hand and he teleported behind Milf, catching on fire from the lava but still landing the last hit needed to finish her off. She puffed into a cloud of EXP, swearing up a storm, and then Admiral and Penis turned their gaze to the cheering Shitty.

"AAAAAYYY, LET'S GO DADDY!" the squirrel man screeched, wild laughter shorting out the discord voice chat, making him go quiet in patches when the volume overloaded the client. Behind him, Admiral quietly started building a chair out of birch fence posts and slabs.

"Not so fast, shit-ty-fart-baaaaa-byyyyy~, this isn't quite over yet!" Penis fucking chirped, barely holding back his laughter. "You're still a fucking traitor and we can't have you backstabbing us too. Get in the chair for Daddy, okay baby?"

Admiral finished the chair just in time for Shitty to turn around and see the completed monstrosity, shrieking dying off immediately. "Oh screw you, that's just mean. The Hell man? That's not a chair, that's illegal. If you want an electric chair or some shit, just ask. That's just sad." Mentally shrugging, Admiral lit up his work with a flint and steel while Penis pillared up above where Shitty was building an electric chair out of iron bars and trap doors. Admiral nudged Shitty into the chair, Penis dumped a bucket of lava over the edge of the pillar so it flowed over him, and Shitty started giving a soliloquy about how betrayal and how his love for his "Daddy" still "burned strong".

Like his dick. Apparently.

By the time the lava finally hit the floor and burned Shitty to death, Penis was crying with laughter, shrieking down the mike and banging on the desk hard enough to make him forget that his was still on the mouse, making him mine the block under him with the bucket and sending him hurtling to his fiery death too.

It was a good day... almost.

Because, as it turned out, shittyfartbaby69 was actually a tiktokker of some renown and his cam account had record everything. And he had uploaded the bit to tiktok, as you do, where it went viral, where it wasn't supposed to. And Milfboss, who had recently been uploading covers of herself singing old classic Minecraft songs, had attracted the Minecraft fandom kids to her twitter, where she had gone to post her rage about the events of her dethroning and Shitty's execution.

Penis SMP had gotten on. Fucking. Trending. And now everyone was demanding the full clip, their names, their Twitch streamer handles, their characters' backstories.

The masses wanted lore.

Penis watched in disbelief, head in his hands and mouth agape as sugar crash played over a clip of him killing Milf on loop.

They were making memes.

...Oh god. They were screwed.

[lambourngb]

Nailing that Dynamic- Recs - Day 1

Day 1 for Creator’s Week, and I gotta say, this is my favorite fan event, mainly because it was the first one I participated last year. This little rec set is devoted to dynamics, divided into friendship, found family, and finally romantic (and yes, that’s Malex with me.)

We’ve had two seasons of this show, and while I can’t really relate to aliens or even the immigrant story, I do relate strongly to the stories behind friendship. I can say my appetite for fic with a good friendship dynamic will always be there.

Will You Be My Friend- Circle Yes or No (recs)

Finding You by @myrmidryad  (122,000) - If by chance the canon from high school bums you out, this is the story to read. Gin writing malex is always a ‘no-brainer I’m gonna read it story’ for me, but what really set this epic apart was how beautifully Gin writes the friendship dynamics between Michael & Liz, and Michael & Max. It’s a canon-divergent story with no-murder of Rosa or the shed scene, where in order to avoid enlistment, Alex disappears from Roswell and joins the Max & Liz road trip with Michael in tow. They just need to fill that gap between high school and the opening of the dorms at UNM so they can start a life together. And fill it they do with this road trip. There were moments where I sobbed with how badly Michael needed this in canon and didn’t get it. It also made me like Max, so, yeah. Great writing and characterizations here.

Hit the Road by @bestillmyslashyheart - (7,100) - One of the brightest spots for me in season two was Rosa Ortecho, and one of the most frustrating parts of season two was the fact we didn’t get any interaction between her and Alex. *screams* At least I had a few crumbs of Rosa & Maria (not nearly enough!) but still. Where there’s a glaring gap in canon, thank god there’s fanfic. Marlo treats us to a delightful story written post season 1, but had some surprisingly psychic lines about Malex, number one how they don’t think they are good for one another. I really enjoyed what this story says about leaving-  and honestly, the town of Roswell has so much pain tied to these characters, they should all take long road trips away from it.

a few drinks and some conversation by @christchex / @michaels-blackhat (5,600 ) - this one is set post-season 2, with all the complications of Michael deciding now wasn’t the right time for him and Alex, while also working on giving Maria the right space after their breakup.  I think it’s pretty clear that Michael needs a friend he’s not related to and someone he hasn’t slept with - to provide him so low-stakes genuine company outside of the alien bullshit and love triangle dynamics. Christi does this beautifully through the eyes of an OC and the number of times I’ve read this story is like 10, and also, it’s inspired my current story about Michael going on dates.

and headin’ out singing our song by @stars-and-sunshine (4,100) post season 2, Alex and Michael head off on a road trip (okay, this is a trope I apparently like since I’ve recced three stories now, hahaha) after Alex’s car breaks down. There’s a careful space in this story, of two men building a friendship again. The roadtrip details are beautiful, but what stayed with me is a scene in the museum. That summer of 2008 had some ghosts to address.

If I Follow You Home, Will You Keep Me? found-family dynamics

When You’re Gone by @bestillmyslashyheart (8,200) - Before I tell you why I love this story, I want everyone to follow the next link and read this story about email and messages and grief in the digital age [trigger for cancer death] chat history by Rebecca  Armendariz. (She also wrote a follow up called Timelines published by the Hairpin that talks about the memory function on facebook.) So back to the story, this is Rosa, opening her email 10 years after her death and reading the messages people sent her, thinking they were speaking into the void. Liz, Maria, Alex, Mimi and Arturo, all of them sending her notes, sometimes time passes without an email, then an event triggers that memory of Rosa not being there- and yeah, I found this whole thing to be so moving.

Never Ever Getting Rid of Me by @spaceskam - (4,400) this probably could have gone in the friendship side, but I feel like when you work in a high stakes place like a hospital, friends is a term that ends up being too light, and with the level of competition and stress it grows a bond like family... anyway, this is an AU where Michael and Kyle end up at the same hospital as competing interns but some elements of canon are still there.

still fixing all the cracks by @emma-arthur -  (3,400) this is a pre-canon story, set when Alex is 14. He’s still a soft child, being tortured by his dad, and soaking up the attention from Liz, Rosa and Arturo when he breaks a glass and spirals. Heavy discussion of child abuse and homophobic abuse, but a really good exploration of the canon-neglected Liz & Alex friendship, plus with that paternal Arturo Ortecho in the mix...

Ophiuchus by @planetsam - (11,600) the other bright side of season 2 was the reveal of Walt Sanders as being not only Michael’s boss, but someone who knew his mother, knew what he was, and silently looked out for him...now of course I wish he had been more overt in doing this, but fanfic once again has fixed this canon-oversight. This is an incredible look through Walt’s eyes as he gets in over his head adopting an alien child, especially one who already had issues from previous foster placements. I could read a million words in this verse.

The Michael Sanders AU by @prouvaireafterdark (17,000 ) And speaking of great AUs where Michael is raised by Walt, I would be really amiss in not mentioning this one. It’s got hot high school Malex moments, emotional/hurt comfort for both Michael’s past foster placements but also the shit Alex is living with at home. I have to say “Honey if You Stay” is my favorite, just because of how badly I wanted to hug teen Alex...

and finally, no found family rec list could be complete without mentioning the epic series To Raise a Child (117,000 in progress) by @haloud and @maeglinthebold - season 2 put some hits on my headspace and emotional reserves, not to mention 2020 nonsense, so I’m dreadfully behind in commenting on this story. It’s just a huge emotional bandaid for me right now- it takes the idea of “what if the adults in Roswell actually looked out for their children (and other peoples children) and protected them from shit” and what would that change. Michael was found at 7 and then runs away to Roswell at 10, so yeah, humans have already done their best to convince him the world sucks and only finding his siblings matters... Jim Valenti steps in, knowing what he is, and finds him a place in Roswell with Arturo Ortecho. Anyway, everyone gets a turn- Jim, Mimi, the kids, etc in the story, it’s well rounded and fleshed out. Obviously being a malex person my favorite parts are the kid-friendship/this-is-just-a-crush moments in second story, where if you hadn’t lost your heart to Michael Ortecho by then, well, you’re a goner after that story. 

I Could Build Your Heart A Home (malex recs)

time will lie down and be still by @islndgurl777 (29,600) the Practical Magic AU - which I loved but I have never seen the movie it’s based on lol... anyway, this story almost belonged up with my found family dynamic recs, because the story opens with Isobel and Michael being 7 and 8 years old alien siblings and left with Mimi Deluca to raise with her daughter Maria, because with their father recently dead, their mother would soon follow as a species level soulmate bond. Michael vows never to fall in love. Then there’s a beautiful friendship between Maria, Liz, Isobel and Michael as they grow up together that I just wanted to roll around in forever... However this is a Malex rec, so once Alex enters the story in high school and things go down similarly with Jesse, Michael is heartbroken, his soulmate (he thinks) is gone, vanished into the Air Force, and he spends the next 10 years helping Maria, going to school with Liz, and keeping in touch with Isobel. Until 2018 when Isobel finds out her perfect man was like them, an alien, and bad, and they are forced to cover up his murder. Then Alex comes to town. But the soulmate storyline is the winner here and I just re-read it again.

here everyone knows (you’re the way to my heart) by @adamsparirsh (19,700) So this story tackles a dynamic that think will be the death-knell to the Alex/Forrest relationship- the weight of the alien secret and Alex’s responsibility gland and what that looks like to someone who wants to be in a relationship with him. The exclusion. But outside of that- there’s this part of Alex that isn’t willing to let anyone in that isn’t already there, and that’s Michael. I’m fucking weak for stories where these two assholes can’t connect with anyone but each other, and this one hits it. There’s also so many lovely friendship dynamics between everyone showing up for Alex- like Rosa, Isobel, Max, Maria. Obviously this is a Malex-is-endgame story, even though it starts Alex/Forrest.

it’s a long road back to you by @magsthemagical  (17,000) This was an interesting, now AU take on what if Maria/Michael dated at the same time as Alex/Forrest, and honestly, I thought basted on the season two spoilers that was where we were heading. I was gobsmacked by 2x13. Anyway, here’s a story that discusses the tension that would happen if there had been simultaneous dating going on…the parts where Michael sees Alex being open with someone other than him were very raw and true to how I would think he would feel. For 10 years he wanted that and didn’t get it, and so of course the problem was probably him?? Anyway, I enjoyed this a lot, and again felt robbed that we are heading into a new triangle for season 3. 

untouched by @prouvaireafterdark (5,200) - okay, you know when you have an alien soulmate idea in your head and you want it to appear on the page, and then it does and it’s everything you wanted? That’s what happened to me when ‘Untouched’ appeared. Obviously it’s AU, but my reptile brain just loves the idea that Michael and Alex can’t get off with anyone else, and then that frustration builds into a sexy explosion... there’s also some communcation happening with these clowns. But seriously for 5,000 words, A LOT HAPPENS here and I loved every word.

Would you come home by @caitlesshea (1000) How great would have it been if season 2 had ended with Michael and Alex found a baby in a stasis pod instead of Beardy Jones? Like seriously, this short little fic healed so many of my wounds from season 2 that I couldn’t help but include it here. I would take 50,000 more words in this sadly AU take. 

Hoarding you by @foramomentonly (1200) okay, so the rain smell, like 2x04 was low key my favorite episode of RNM ever, especially with Alex throwing that flirty line “It’s smells like rain, that’s what you smell like under the grease and bourbon’ and this author takes that line, and fucking murders me with the idea that Alex can’t move on because of that smell. And Michael is now his, and finds out about it. This is my head canon, okay? No one can talk me out of it.

If you like any of these recs, please leave a comment on the story- a ‘this was awesome’ is enough to propell an author into the stratosphere with happiness, so don’t worry about coming up with a unique, never before shared insight- sometimes a keyboard smash and emogi makes all the difference!

[auncyen]

001 - Ann & Ren/Akira; 002 - Morgana

this time I will c/p both templates at the start so I remember to do both lol

Ren/Ann

when I started shipping it if I did:

I was interested in it from my first playthrough, though I actually romanced Makoto that playthrough due to timing with confidants (I was...not too great with confidants my first playthrough, though I would like to say I only missed by three in the end).  Romanced Ann my second playthrough and was happy.

my thoughts:

Like Ren/Ryuji, these two make me happy as a sort of “opposites attract”, where Ren appreciates Ann’s bubbly nature so much for helping him get out of his head for a bit and Ann doesn’t mind his reserved nature because of how thoughtful he is (until he’s keeping secrets on Christmas Eve and then it drives her a LITTLE nuts)

What makes me happy about them:

They’re pretty much my two favorite characters in p5 (though the competition for the top spots is fierce XD) and I think their differences make things interesting, so it’s fun to pair them just from that, but also thinking about Ren letting himself be silly with Ann is nice!

What makes me sad about them:

Because the game doesn’t let who your girlfriend is affect too much mechanically (which is a bit understandable in terms of difficulty implementing it...), it’s a little awkward if you romance Ann ASAP and they just...seem to go through the entire game with it apparently being a secret?  I think it is believable for them to keep it quiet for a while (maybe not wanting to make a big deal out of it in case they break up, or Ren worrying that any decision involving Ann will immediately lead to suspicions of favoritism once people know, or just not wanting to upset Mona/Ryuji/Yusuke, depending on what Ren thinks the other guys’ feelings for Ann are), but I would hope that by mid and especially end-game, they’d be comfortable enough with each other and the team to say “hey, yeah, we’re a couple”.

(Of course that would get in the way of harem route.  But harem route is dumb anyway.)

things done in fanfic that annoys me:

Sometimes I feel the ditziness for Ann gets...way too overdone?  It’s a hard balance to strike because she canonically isn’t much better as a student than Ryuji and it’s implied she has trouble staying on task on her own, but she definitely can stay on task in a group setting and she’s insightful at times.  I can get her getting down on herself sometimes (there’s little moments in canon that seem to imply she does) but when fic actually makes it seem like Joker has to...babysit her or something it’s like nooooooo.

things I look for in fanfic:

I guess just going with above, the sense that they’re equals and both making decisions to better themselves.

But also fluff.  I love fluff. 

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other:

Ren: Ryuji, Haru, Yusuke

Ann: ...Ryuji with the caveat of a bit of development?  Like I don’t think I’d hate a different PT romance for her but I haven’t really been interested in any of them.  (Ann/Shiho is kind of so prevalent and usually presented like it’s just some automatic thing that I’m just “meh” on it.  I like them fine as best friends.)

My happily ever after for them:

I really would like Ann to finally figure out what acting is XD and be able to work as an actress.  I’m not sure if it’s something I see her sticking with long term, but I do think her career would be spent in the public spotlight, with her making sure to take lots of downtime in private to be with Ren and keep herself sane.  Ren could go a few ways--became a local politician out of sheer spite over bullshit policies, is a journalist in the politics section because he’s good at stumbling into all sorts of trouble and getting people to open up to him so it’s never been a dull moment....not sure.  They have a nice apartment where Morgana is staying with them (having long gotten over his crush by this point).

who is the big spoon/little spoon:

Ann initiates more often as the big spoon but every once in a while, Ren decides he needs to snuggle her close and is the big spoon. 

what is their favorite non-sexual activity:

...Cuddling.  Though I’m also amused by the idea of them playing team-based games easy for couples to play, like pictionary (ESPECIALLY pictionary--Ren’s drawings look fine, Ann’s look like an imaginative first grader’s...this would go one of two ways--Ren having fun lightly teasing Ann as their team goes down in flames because he can’t make heads or tails of what she’s drawing, or Ren astounding the other team because he can.)

Morgana

How I feel about this character:

So Ann and Ren are my top two characters; Morgana is third.  (Again, the competition for top spots is pretty fierce--Ryuji, Haru and Yusuke are all right below this, and I like Makoto and Futaba pretty well too.)  ...Part of that is probably because he is a cat, but it’s also just--he definitely comes off to me as a younger, caring but bossy sibling to the protagonist, and it’s just cute???

All the people I ship romantically with this character:

...I don’t...really...although actually in one fic where Ren’s hometown was Inaba and Morgana was trying to become human, I h/ced him having a crush on Nanako, who would be pretty close to the age I h/c him being equivalent to.  (I think they were just slightly off by a year or two?  I’d have to figure out her age again.)  ...But like even in that fic idea he didn’t actually get with Nanako.  In fic where he turns human there are a couple ships I’d be willing to read, but personally I feel like all the PT would probably see him as a younger brother.  ...and also be a little hung up on the fact that he’d once been cat-shaped.

My non-romantic OTP for this character:

Ren & Morgana brotp for life.  Morgana probably gets in trouble with other PT at some point for keeping secrets about Ren’s more dangerous activities, but he and Ren have a code.  (The code is “snitches get stitches”.  They are both a little terrible sometimes.)

My unpopular opinion about this character:

I just think he gets bashed way too much.  I have literally seen posts where Ryuji is excused on certain things for being immature, still a teenager, and then Morgana is bashed, and it’s like ?????? Ryuji has sixteen years of life experience over Morgana!  If Ryuji deserves that sympathy (which I think is fair, he does), Morgana deserves it as well, if not more!  Where in Mementos was Morgana supposed to pick up life lessons on being mature?

(Granted I think it’s perfectly fair to be irked at the writers for making Morgana the character he is, because they certainly could have made him mature if they wanted to with some handwavey reason.  Just, from an in-universe perspective, ...he actually could have been way worse with the background he has.)

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon:

Let him be human!  Kind of still on the last point but I also think it’s understandable for Morgana to not always approach issues maturely because there are literally only seven people he can talk to so god help him when he needs to ask advice on an interpersonal conflict because there could easily be no neutral party for him to ask.  I just feel like him being stuck as a cat hamstrings him so much in terms of potential development which like...I guess ATLUS wants a mascot character, but in-universe?  Feels kind of cruel of Igor unless there wasn’t an option on how to make Mona.

...There were ship questions in this meme but I’m taking those out lol

a headcanon fact:

He can’t talk to normal cats, but he does understand them better than most humans do (though he doesn’t understand them perfectly himself--he is still a product of human cognition, not feline) and that’s part of why he gets so upset about the cat abuser.  He people-watches a lot when Ren’s with confidants, but he has once or twice gotten attached to strays in the area and done his best to try to help them, most likely by leading them to friendly humans, or leading the friendly humans to them.

[sun-daisies]

Ack thank you for the tag @herosofmarvelanddc <3

Named after someone? my middle name is in memory of my mom’s sister who passed before I was born - she says I’m a lot like her. 

Last time you cried? today at work, because my coworker spontaneously shouted her intrusive thought (it was literally just “sponge!”) and then we proceeded to laugh until we were wheezing for a solid half hour. 

Do you have any kids? thankfully no, and I hope I never do. 

Do you use sarcasm a lot? oh, I would never. 

What’s the first thing you notice about people? their smile and how they carry themselves. I read people almost the moment I see them.

Eye color? gray (I’ve been told on several occasions that at any given point it’s actually various shades of blue, hazel, sometimes even gold or green. But it’s actually gray. I’ve only ever seen them gray.) 

Scary movie or happy ending? both? depends on my mood. 

Any special talent? fffff does bullshitting my way through life count? 

What country were you born in? good ‘ol America 🥴

What are your hobbies? writing angsty fanfic, drawing, painting, photography, filmmaking, reading (fanfic), watching stuff (it’s my turn to get lost in the sauce-)

Do you have any pets? a hellbeast named Abby, bless this poor dog’s lost soul she wouldn’t survive 10 minutes in the wild her extremely distant wolf ancestors must be so ashamed 

What sports do you play/ have you played? I used to be a dancer, I danced for like 15 years and was competitive for I think 4-5 of those years. 

How tall are you? 5′1″

Favorite subject at school? HA. Joke’s on you, I almost dropped out in high school :P Uhhhh but fr, my favorite subject was my vocational program in high school (I was a high school film major, studied it for an entire half of my high school experience) and so that’s carried on in college, my fav course has been film analysis. (No, I’m no longer a film major, and yes I regret that decision every day of my life)

Dream job? kind of already do it! I’m a freelance photographer, though personally I would love to get myself in a position where I can just spontaneously do ANYTHING I want to creatively - I want to make short films and publish a book or do freelance art at some point too. I love photog but I’m an overachiever and have 50000000 things I want to do :’) 

No clue who’s done this already :) so I suppose @daisyxnotquake @aesheros @the-9muses @missinglittlebritishfriend or really anyone who wants to do it!

[artificialqueens]

Bring It On: In It to Win It pt 4 (Branjie) - Ashley

A/N: Brooke struggles to lie to Jovan about cheering and please Vanessa at the same time whilst her anxiety flares up about their upcoming pep rally. Thanks for the reassuring comments everyone, they mean so much! I find it ironic that I haven’t wrote fanfic properly for ⅔ years and have decided to take it up again when I have a month left to revise for my a levels..oops..what can I say, Branjie has just got me back in that zone. Hope you like xoxo Ashley..

“Your brother’s not home is he?” Brooke’s eyes whipped around the room as she entered.

“I’ve never met someone who wanted to hide the fact they’re an Amazon,” Vanessa rolled her eyes at Brooke before adhering to her paranoia; “No. He’s not.”

“Where are the others?” Brooke asked. This was the first time she’d seen Vanessa since the week before. Since they kissed. Naturally, she assumed the whole squad were practising here, not just herself. With a pep rally scheduled in the following week, Brooke had spent most of her free time learning their routines and avoiding both of the siblings in order to be perfect for her first appearance with the Amazons. With fears she’d threw herself in too far at the deep end, parts of her old performance anxiety had begun to recur, just cracking the surface of her exterior - she had always strived to be the best at everything and the thought of disappointing the squad, Vanessa, and even herself were starting to eat away at her. Every possible image of failure had been running through her head - what if Jovan didn’t want to speak to her over this and she turned out to be terrible anyway. In summary, Brooke was scared. Scared of being a failure. Scared of losing her friendship. Scared that she couldn’t handle being close to Vanessa. After the events of Tuesday night, she had forced herself away from the girl, knowing full well that in the right place and time she may not be able to stop herself from kissing her again. Full well that her feelings, temptations, desires were all unrequited. Yet here she was, back with her, just the two of them. That longing that had crept its way to the front of Brooke’s mind speeding up til it was sprinting there in a marathon.

“I thought I ought to pull you aside and give you a low down. I know I was over hasty with you in your first practice. I just wanted you to get a real taste for it, you know?”

“Yeah,” Brooke nodded, wanting to add something intellectual into the conversation yet struggling to even to form words longer than one syllable in Vanessa’s presence. At this point, she figured she’d never get over the nervous jitters she got around the girl and might as well start to embrace them instead of fighting them as they didn’t seem to be going anywhere.

Pulling out a binder from inside the footstool, it was as if a switch had been flicked in Vanessa, she was focused.

“Welcome to Cheer 101.”

***

Although Brooke had scoured the internet for clips of the Amazons competing before her tryout, it was only now that the full-scale operation behind the squad was being deployed to her.

“Here’s the Vixens. Three-fold reigning champions, they’re our biggest competition when it comes to nationals.” Vanessa showed Brooke a newspaper clipping recording the events of the previous year’s national championships, “We don’t have long left till we face them again. Now that I’m captain, maybe this time we’ll stand a chance.”

“There’s nothing I love more than a competition,” Brooke grinned at the girl next to her and they both started the laugh.

Alas, she was no longer in plain-Janesville and was suddenly the starring role of her own personal teen romance flick - the way things were going in Tampa, Brooke had started to see everything as a cliche waiting to happen to her. Which is why she knew it would be Jovan walking through the door the second she heard the turning of the handle. Pretty soon Alanis Morissette would be writing about her life, she figured as she failed to come up with any sort of excuse as to why she was there with his sister.

Opening up the door, Jovan did a double take when he saw Brooke sat in his living room - his eyes quickly scanning over his sister before actualising who was sat with her and giving her one of his synonymous expressions.

“Hey,” Brooke tried to act cool, “Vanessa was just keeping me company while I waited for you. I’m sorry I didn’t text.”

Although not usually someone who condemned lying, Brooke’s fear of rejection was spiralling out of control at this point, every imaginary scenario in her head blowing further and further out of proportion till she saw no other option, taking the easier route rather than facing the potential consequences in the short-term. She was stuck in a triangle, left to choose between her best friend and her crush, trying as hard as humanly possible to choose both.

“For a second there I thought you’d actually fell for her bullshit and became a cheerleader,” Jovan laughed in his usual brutally honest manner, barely acknowledging his sister’s presence nevermind not caring what she thought.

Letting out an awkward laugh, Brooke glanced at Vanessa apologetically before standing up and making her way over to her brother.

“Hilarious,” Vanessa muttered, “I’ll leave you two in peace.” Giving her brother a sarcastic smile, Brooke could feel the anger radiating out of the girl’s small body as she made her way to her ground-floor bedroom - stopping to give Brooke one last dirty look before shutting her door.

“You should be easier on her,” Brooke looked at her friend, feeling a stab of instant regret, Vanessa’s face toying with her.

“I am,” Jovan said, “As I said before, I’m the only one being real to that girl.”

Yet here Brooke was, being the utter antithesis of real to him. Talk about rain on her wedding day.

***

“I really didn’t think you liked Demi Lovato,” Brooke laughed at her friend as they danced playfully in his bedroom.

“I’m an edgy gay kid in high school, of course, I have a secret love for ex-Disney Channel pop shite,” he laughed, voguing his way across the room towards Brooke.  “If you tell anyone though, you’re toast.”

Although they were just messing around, she felt the most relaxed she’d been the past week. All of her fears and anxieties, her battles with perfection and delaying of the inevitable all floating away as she swayed her hips to the music. Something about the comfort of dancing bringing her back to reality, the familiar friend guiding her through the stress.

“You’re literally my only friend,” she responded - Vanessa’s words from the week before running through her mind. “Friends like me. “They were friends. But Vanessa knew the score about the way her brother felt, and despite the flaw in his opinions, Brooke didn’t want to lose the person who was there for her when Vanessa blew her to an all-time low at the tryouts. Although they hadn’t known each other for that long, Jovan was different from her friends at home and although he said it a lot she couldn’t deny that the main reason was for how real he was. He was the refreshment Brooke needed to keep hydrated, and she figured what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him - at least for now. Or maybe that’s just what she told herself to stop the guilt of lying eating away at herself, the way people who over-justified their wrongdoings were really trying to deter themselves from realisations rather than others.

“Jovan,” a distinctly thick Puerto Rican accent singsonged as his door opened.

“Your dinner is ready. No wonder you can’t hear with all this music!”

Her eyes dark and wide and her hair slicked back to her head, Brooke soon realised that this was Vanessa’s mom.

“Sorry,” he responded, quickly turning off the music they had been dancing to.

“Ahh, this must be Brooke. I’ve heard so much about you I was starting to think you were made up!” She threw a motherly smile of genuine excitement in Brooke’s direction. “Stay for dinner, I always make way more than needed anyway.”

And that was what lead Brooke to the most awkward dinner of her life.

***

Without sounding cocky, Brooke had never been phased by spending time with people’s parents back home. Her constant need to impress and desire to be perfect both aligned well with her forward planning and ability to answer questions with confidence - turning her into a parent’s wet dream. It was about time this was going to come back to haunt her as she sat at the table with Vanessa, Jovan and their respective parents.

With Vanessa’s mom being the clear talker in the relationship, Jovan’s dad appeared more quiet and demure, simply nodding or throwing the odd smile into the conversation as they made general small talk.

Clearly aware of her extroverted daughters’ reserved manner, her mom, who Brooke now knew as Alexis, set a trap at her for a conversation with Brooke as the bait.

“Vanessa, do you know Brooke too, from school?”

There went the hook.

“We don’t really run in the same circles,” she responded pointedly, a clear ounce of wrath in her tone as she looked at Brooke across the table. There it was again, that gut-wrenching look that left Brooke at a loss for words.

“Vanjie is too good for the riff-raff like us, Alexis.” Jovan threw a line, using his sister’s nickname to mock her popular status in front of their parents.

“Jo,” his father piped up, glaring sternly at his son.

“I can’t do this,” Vanessa snapped before getting up and walking away from the table - Brooke once again hearing the slam of the front door. She dropped down like a sinker.

“I am so sorry, Brooke,” Alexis looked embarrassed of her daughter’s abrupt exit, “I don’t know what’s gotten into her these past few weeks - she’s been so feisty!”

“She’s isn’t always like that?” Jovan rolled his eyes.

Guilt pumped through Brooke with each breath. In, then out. Only amplifying and getting heavier each time. A positive feedback loop of the lies she’d told and the truths she’d hidden growing as she was sitting in front of Vanessa and Jovan’s parents whilst they apologised for Vanessa’s behaviour. Too caught up in her idyllic world of being friends with Jovan and a member of the Amazons at the same time, a harsh reality came crashing down on Brooke. She had started to become everything Jovan had made Vanessa out to be - she was fake. For the first time since meeting Vanessa - she longed for Toronto where she went with the flow, didn’t lie, didn’t lust, didn’t envy, didn’t indulge in her own fantasy and forget about the feelings of her friends. Just as things were starting to go well she fucked them up. Just like she knew she always would. The bitter pill she’d played with and hidden under her tongue all week had just been swallowed. And it was anything but sweet. Brooke knew it was time to swallow her pride along with it.

“Jovan, can we talk for a minute?” Brooke asked as they helped Alexis clear the plates for dinner.

“Oh my god, you’re breaking up with me. I knew it. Who is he?” he pulled a pretend shocked face at his friend, before taking in her sombre disposition: “What’s up?”

“I kind of lied to you,” she said, “And I know it’s shitty because you’re such an honest person and I really admire you for it. I know we haven’t known each other for that long but you really are my best friend. You’re the only person who welcomed me here and I just didn’t want you to think badly of me but I took your sister’s offer to join her squad. Since moving here, I can’t describe it but it’s like having the rush of nerves I get before a performance all the time. I haven’t had a physical outlet to drain away my anxieties and it’s been driving me nuts inside. I know I can seem confident but I overthink things so much and the thought of being anything less than perfect grates at me constantly - I need something to distract me from it. It was like my best friend and worst enemy combined when I did ballet; if I could reign it in, channel it and thrive off it through practice and competing then I was amazing, but sometimes it would just teeter over that edge and break me. And as much as I would like to say that’s all, this is me being honest - I like spending time with your sister. I know you think she’s using me but I think she’s a genuine friend, Jovan.”

Looking up at her friend for the first time in her monologue, Brooke waited for the fireworks. The storm she’d seen in her first week. The result of betrayal.

But it didn’t come.

She should be relieved, right?

She wasn’t.

In the end, the bang of the firework is never actually as bad as the lead up to it - the anxiety in the simmering flicker. And when they don’t go off at all? Then you’re left with the sour taste of dissatisfaction. The moment you waited for, all the tension that had built, all gone. Sometimes that calamitous roar was better than the uneasy tiptoe that came with no explosion.

Just silence.

Not the silence from the library when everyone was focused and thinking.

Not the silence after the first hum of the music, when the audience realised the show was about the begin and fell low awaiting the arrival of the ballerinas.

A loud silence.

A deafening silence.

***

A wave of relief washed over Brooke when she realised Vanessa was just where she hoped she would be.

“Hey,” she sat down on the park bench, the memories of their night spent talking all coming back to her in flashes of gold. “I know you’re pissed at me for lying, but I told Jovan that I’m on the team.”

“I’m not pissed at you,” Vanessa responded abruptly, making a point of staring ahead instead of making eye-contact with Brooke.

“You seem pissed,” Brooke reached out to touch the girl’s arm for Vanessa to flinch away.

Although she knew she deserved the cold shoulder - it still stung all the same.

“I’m upset. I’m sick of everyone acting like cheerleader’s are just a waste of space, Brooke. And you pretty much affirmed that you think that way too. Too embarrassed to let anyone know you’re on the squad. You’re supposed to rep with pride for god sake,”

Taking in the girl’s words, Brooke was surprised at her feeling this way. She had wanted nothing more than to be up there performing with Vanessa and the Amazons the second she’d laid eyes on them.

“Vanessa, everyone at school worships the ground you walk on - including me, no one thinks you guys are a waste of space,”

“I don’t mean at school,” she snapped at Brooke, her repressed emotions seeping through every pore.

“You can talk about it,” Brooke said, and not in the superficial way you do when you want to know the gossip or simply want to seem like a good friend, she was the most genuine she’d ever been in her life. She figured Vanessa knew this too, as low and behold she began to open up to Brooke, releasing the dam to let all the water gush past.

“We used to be friends, me and Jovan. We were just becoming teenagers and our parents got married so quickly, it was hard. But we quickly realised that we were both going through the same shit and could lean on each other. Yeah, he was a bit weird, but I didn’t care - we were like this,” Vanessa crossed her fingers together and met Brooke’s gaze. “Sometimes we fought but we loved each other, like Drake and Josh - but less white.” She laughed - one of those laughs where if you didn’t just embrace it you’d start to cry. “We used to do gymnastics in our garden, he was always better more flexible, I used to wish I could be like him. I wanted to be as carefree as he was, I still do. And then high school came. We tried out for the Amazons together, I didn’t really want to because I knew he was better than me and got scared he’d make it on and I wouldn’t. It broke him, Brooke. It really did, he did a full 180 and stopped loving life. It was a double-edged sword. I’d go to school and everyone loved me but I’d go home after a long day of practising, trying to keep my grades up and cheer at the same time with no acknowledgement from my family because they only saw cheer as the bitchy girls who didn’t let Jovan on the squad, and then started to see me in the same light. I tried so hard to impress them, invited them to every pep rally, every tournament, but it was just a silly game to them. And I guess I just stopped trying. If everyone at home was gonna act like I’m this bitchy airhead cheerleader then I might as well embrace it because I finally had a thing that was mine and I didn’t want anyone to take it away from me. He was right,” she paused to look at Brooke, a mascara-stained tear rolling down her cheek, her voice hoarse from talking, “I am intimidated by you. You’re an amazing dancer, you’re beautiful, you could be doing my job in a heartbeat.”

Brooke’s pulse pounded through her chest. Her tell-tale was heart bursting at the seams - wanting nothing more than to lean over to the girl and kiss her, just kiss her and tell everything’s going to be alright.

“I’m not surprised you don’t want to be seen with me,” Vanessa murmured, remembering why she was sat there with Brooke, reigning back from the issues with her family that shaped the way she acted, that explained away her response to the way Brooke acted when Jovan arrived home and at the dinner table. Right there in front of those who dismissed her hard work on the Amazons, Brooke had scoffed away the idea of being a cheerleader like Vanessa. She wished she was good with words the way she used to be in Toronto so she could tell Vanessa how astounding she really was, but something about the girl made English seem like a second language to Brooke.

“Vanessa,” Brooke looked at the girl next to her, shaking her head at the words she spoke, “In the words of someone I think we both admire, I’m not gonna bullshit with you. I’m sorry I made you feel like cheer was below me - I assure you it isn’t. There is nothing I want more at the minute than to be up there with you when we beat those Vixens at Nationals and make everyone so proud of you.”

Brooke watched as something in Vanessa’s eyes lit up.  

“Bring it on,” she looked at Brooke, a sort of unspoken commitment formulating between them - they would do whatever it took to win.

Brooke didn’t know whether it was because Vanessa had shown a vulnerability to her, another one of those layers that just made her seem so genuine or because of how close they were sitting, the way she had thought about her since the kiss, but whatever it was it drove her to grab the other girls hand and squeeze.

Immediate panic and regret ensured. Expecting to get a weird look from the girl, Brooke was about to pull away when she felt it, a squeeze back. Her nerves evaporated. A harmonious silence lingered rather than one of awkwardness or dead air - for the first time all week Brooke felt at peace, tranquil, with not a fear in her mind. Like when they kissed, her head was fully invested right there in the moment and that desire to hold back the sun returned. Just her hand grasped around Vanessa’s forever.

***

With Jovan still mad and not speaking to her, it was safe to say that Brooke had had ample time to throw herself into practising for her first pep rally - and throw herself she did. Every lunchtime she would have spent on their own little table in the cafeteria bitching about other students and sharing portions of gravy doused chips she now spent practising Friday’s routine - running over and over her yell until her voice would ache. Every night she arrived home and tumbled in the garden till she was dizzy and the sky was dark. Each free minute was spent researching about her new craft, watching videos with every tip and trick she planned to utilise. She crammed and crammed until nothing else could fit.

“It had all lead to this moment,” she thought to herself as she analysed herself in the hallway mirror before the game, having left the squad and their pretalks in the changing rooms to try and escape her overwhelming need to breathe. Darning the Amazon’s uniform for the first time out of the house, Vanessa was right, it fit like a glove. Her hair ice blonde hair tied up and curled in the signature blue scrunchie, only then did she realise how much the blue of her eyes stood out with the colours. Her long legs visibly pale, fear about standing out too much from the group began to sink in. She looked at her reflection and saw a fraud. What if people clocked that she wasn’t as good, what if she embarrassed herself. Her levels of anxiety rising, she began to contemplate why she’d even tried something new, something so different, so much more assertive and in-your-face than ballet when she would only fail it in the end anyway. All she wanted was to be good but the fear of letting her team down and letting herself down that she had felt early was starting to return.

Before she knew it she had crouched down on the floor with her knees to her chest. The walls were spinning like something out of a book - if she had been herself she’d have been thinking about how once again she was a teen cliche of angst yet the only thought she could conjure was that she was fucking scared.

She was fucking scared and the walls were not helping. Nor was the distant hum of people waiting for the game outside, people waiting to watch the Amazons, waiting to watch her.

She closed her eyes to try and make it stop but it was no use. The tips of her toes going numb inside her trainers, her body just stayed frozen listing to the noises from outside - willing herself to focus on something else, anything else, when she heard a voice next to her.

“Ssshhhh, it’s okay,” a bony yet comforting hand ran along her back.

Jovan. She opened her eyes, remembering where she was.

“I can’t see you perform like this, can I?” he asked her in a joking manner, only however making more tears stream down her face.

She wanted to respond but she couldn’t. Not just yet.

“I realised last week that I was a bad friend,” he said to her, “I tried to stop you from doing something you enjoyed for my own selfish reasons. And it went against everything I stood for. When you talked to me about it in the kitchen Brooke, you seemed so excited, so genuinely happy to be cheering and I was stopping you. I thought I’d best leave you alone, you didn’t need me dragging you down. Where’s that Brooke now? The one who was gonna give her friendship up to be out there performing,” he asked her, Brooke surprised that he wasn’t ignoring her because he was mad all along - he was guilty, just like she’d been about his sister.

“Remember what you were telling me, Brooke. Reign it in, thrive off it. Don’t let it take over. Just be you. Cause when you’re yourself you don’t care what other people think - you’re good at being you, Brooke.”

Although it took her a few minutes to recover, as it never just happened straight away like in the movies, something inside her snapped into gear. Never a loud person, sometimes performing was Brooke’s voice. She knew Jovan was right - she was only ever herself on stage, and so long as she was being herself then she would kill it.

“C’mon,” he gave her a hand, “Let’s take some deep breaths and get you cleaned up. I did not come to a non-mandatory school event to see any of those other bitches perform. Just my best friend.”

“I’m sorry I lied to you,” Brooke looked at him as she gulped down some water, her voice returning.

“Don’t be. I’m sorry I even put you in that situation. I put myself in a bit of a rut over what I did but I’m here for you, first and foremost. Now go get ‘em, tiger,” he laughed, giving Brooke a playful smack on the ass.

Grinning to herself, the need to slay that she’d felt when she told Vanessa she wanted to be up there performing with her returned, Brooke was more ready than she’d ever been.

***

Her pulse thumping along with the beat, Brooke looked across at Vanessa as they stood facing the bleachers, ready to perform.

“Bring it, Brooke Lynn,” the girl mouthed to her - she did not need to be told twice.

Every move was precise, every yell was on point. Standing on her hands, the roar from the crowd pushed her to new limits. She had never felt so much energy. So alive. She was used to waiting till the end with ballet - that dreaded silence when the music stopped and you feared that no clapping would come - but with hollers all the way through, Brooke thrived off the chants, she knew this is what she was born to do. By the time she made it to her roll call, she shouted louder and clearer than she had in all of her practices - she was ecstatic. Really fucking ecstatic

“My name’s Brooke,” the girls shouted their “yeah” in response, Vanessa’s tone standing out from the group, her teeth gleaming as she grinned from ear to ear, clearly proud of her new prodigy. “Put down that book,” she pointed to the ground - a new type of confident. A new type of sexy. “Cause when I shake it, you can’t help but look.”

Any fear she had was now long dissipated - a sense of belonging filling her insides as she pushed Vanessa to the air and watched her fly. By the end of the routine, her face hurt from smiling but she just couldn’t stop.

Once all of their choreographed steps were completed, she looked out into the crowd to see Jovan front and centre, cheering for them: “Go Vanjie, Go Brooke!” The excited boy who danced to Demi Lovato in his room once again taking over the sullen kid who rolled his eyes so much they may as well be permanently lasered into a resting bitch face.

Running forward, the squad all bounced off of each other, throwing their arms in the air and screaming for the school team.

Before she could even comprehend what was happening, she felt Vanessa’s small body bury itself into hers, those chocolate button eyes gleaming up at her.

“You killed it, mama,” Vanessa beamed at Brooke - sending her body into all sorts of shocks as she wrapped her arms around the other girl in excitement.

“So did you,” Brooke responded, “And I’m not the only one who thinks so,” she pointed to Jovan in the audience - his mouth collecting flies at their performance.

After their talk the week before, Brooke felt a little part of Vanessa’s glass walls start to melt as she saw her reaction to Jovan’s presence and watched her run over to him. He was taken back at first when she threw her arms around his awkwardly lean body, but soon he started to laugh and nuzzle his hand against her hair. Watching made Brooke long for a sibling of her own, their bond clearly unbroken despite the years of arguments and silences. But most of all the sight just made her feel content. Happy.

She knew that out of every adjective known to man, happy was the least exciting. But she could think of no other way to describe her inner thoughts than as happy. A big, fat, flaming happy.

[condiscum]

(Asks are being super dumb and not publshing so I’m replying this way, gomen…)

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA OKAY SO. I’ll definitely gush about him in weird headcanon ways at some point in the near future but because im too tired to formulate good sentences right now, have his extended bio! (If you wanna see more brief bios of the Oasis cast, including Denzel, with no spoilers for the fanfic, click here to go to the collective story blog! This extended bio post is spoiler-free too tho

This is gonna be long, so its under a cut!

Without further ado, Denzel…

Basic

Name Pronunciation: DEHN-zel

Nicknames/Aliases: None

Gender: Male

Age: A fifthborn, 26

Birthdate: Scion 86, 1306 AE

Cycle: Night

Physical

Height: 5’9”

Weight/Build: 150ish lbs; slender, lanky

Physical Health: Not bad, but could probably use to eat more real food.

Mental Health: Pretty shit. Struggles with depression/anxiety.

Assets (hair, eyes, etc.): Deep green and brown leaves that look like perpetual bedhead, oak brown skin, bright white eyes and a mint green glow.

Tattoos/Alterations: None

Scars: Self harm scars on his wrists and thighs.

Sexuality: Homosexual

Romantic Orientation: Homoromantic

Handedness: Ambidextrous

Gait: Awkward alternating stride lengths that don’t properly gauge the space that needs to be covered (too many small steps/too long steps requiring fast halting, not quite approaching what he’s aiming for). Often overthought, hesitant, or “on a mission”.

Voice: Light, accented tenor. Wide range in pitch, volume, and emotionality.

Psychological

MBTI: INFP

Intelligence: Incredibly smart. His mind often runs faster than his mouth or body can keep up. Learns very quickly through basically any means. Keen wit.

Temperament: Unsure and reserved around those he doesn’t know well. Hides a lot behind dry humor. More emotional around those he trusts. Only actually lashes out around people he feels safest with.

Happiness Level: Pretty fuckin depressed.

Habits: Talking to himself mentally, sticking his tongue out a bit when deeply focused.

Outlook: Tries his best every day and means it. Wants nothing but the best for others, but especially those he cares about. Despite being prone to crippling bouts of hopelessness and self-doubt, he has optimistic tendencies that push him through his anxiety, depression and isolation.

Personal

Wealth: He gets by alright.

Friends: Few and close. Lierik is his closest and oldest friend, who he met at age 7 while living in Mabon. Lierik was 12. They became fast friends, mostly because Lierik took an interest in him and his inventions and was very dogged about spending time with him and working together on projects. To this day they act like siblings, unafraid to call each other on their bullshit or fight, but always with deep respect. His second closest friend is Vivienne. They live as neighbors in Mabon village, and have always gotten along well due to both being quiet, self-conscious, and relentlessly kind.

Sapling Years: At his awakening, Denzel was curious, kind, and painfully shy. He was intensely empathetic, and as such, had a stronger empathic connection to other Sylvari than most. Unfortunately, his mind often twisted the emotions of others internally. Happy people he’d never met were happier without him. People who were upset or angry while around him were only feeling that way because of him. It drove his anxiety to a point where he couldn’t handle it, and so first he tried isolating himself, and then a few months later, becoming Soundless. After learning to shut off his connection to the Dream, and therefore, others of his kind, his anxiety got a bit better, but he was still reclusive and kept few friends. Despite living for years in Mabon Village, his only friend in town was Vivienne, and his other closest friend lived in Metrica Province, causing them to communicate mostly by letter and radio. As such, he spent most of his time in the company of his inventions, which he gave names and attributed personalities to as though they were people.

Education: Basic sapling mentorship.

Likes: Tea (particularly oolong, bergamot, and chai), books, blankets, pillows, patterned fabric, sleeping, inventing, witty humor.

Dislikes: New people, crowds, drudgery, coffee (but he drinks it for the caffeine anyway), expectations.

Hobbies: Inventing, taking things apart to study them, reading things cover-to-cover in one sitting, analyzing schematics, solving complex theoretical equations, and watching people and animals from a distance.

Values: Morally sound. Sees the good in others sometimes more than they deserve, but can never see it in himself. He sees compassion, confidence, and sharp intellect as noble skills to have.

Lifestyle: Likes to sleep. Spends time feeling comfortable and cozy and stimulated whenever he can. Often forgets to eat, but drinks a lot of tea and coffee as though that makes up for it.

Relationship Status: Single.

Romantic History: None.

Religion: Soundless.

Profession: Engineer, Inventor.

Prized possessions: Zigy, his first gyro. A large, thick reprint of one of Zinn’s journals on golemancy. A flat, smooth stone that he found near the water one day when he, Lierik, and Vivienne skipped stones near the weeping isle years ago.  

Personality

Wants: To be happy. To make others happy. To be useful. To make a difference. To feel like he’s good enough.

Hopes: That there are happy endings. That even really bad things will get better if you just give them enough time.

Fears: Abandonment. That people do truly view him as worthless and stupid.

Regrets: Many things that aren’t very noteworthy, usually overthought because of anxiety.

Resentments: Few.

Dreams: Inventing something that makes the world better. Living a happy and simple life.

Notable Memories: Moving to Mabon, meeting Lierik, meeting Vivienne, the time he jokingly challenged Lierik to a rap battle and failed miserably, and many other little simple happy moments he holds onto with a tight grip.

Practices

Says: Often has a hard time expressing what he means. Tends to use a lot of snark and dry witty humor.

Eats: Not overly picky, but also not very interested in food. Enjoys sweet things and flavored beverages.

Wears: Comfortable clothes. Rarely seen without a utility belt when at work or on the go.  

Buys: Books, candies, drafting supplies, soft blankets, fancy specialty tools.

Wields: He’s not a fighter.

Is Skilled at: Inventing/building machinery, picking up new skills.

Came from: The Grove

Currently Resides in: Mabon Village

Allies with: Has no need for “allies” in the classical sense.

Plays at: Literal games, joke fighting, teasing his friends, reading stories aloud with dramatic voices and acting out scenes.

Works at: His workshop, improving his inventions and problem solving skills. Household tasks.

Do his speech and thought patterns change around certain individuals?

With Lierik, he’s slightly more open than around others, and much more snarky. They like to give each other shit a lot, so despite feeling inherently more comfortable around Lierik than most people, he also doesn’t want to lose respect or pride points.

Over all, he’s pretty socially anxious, but he’s a lot more eloquent when he isn’t around new people, or is at least in the company of someone he trusts.

What sort of contradictions and conflicts does he have?

Despite struggling day in and out with depression, hopelessness, and self-loathing, he has an undying hope that things will get better eventually, and it makes him resilient. It keeps him open-minded and loving and trying to see the best in everything even when things are really bleak.

Who or what influences him most?

Lierik is his first influence. He’s always challenged Denzel to prove himself and encouraged him through competition to feel more confident.

Vivienne influenced him heavily by showing him how to appreciate simple things when the complex things get too hard to deal with. She teaches him some of the self-care skills he uses to cope with his depression.

[lollytea]

For that fanfic Drabble thing, what about like, Karma and Ryder for 18? Maybe modern au of their bullshit so there’s no Spoiling of any kind.

(i call this ship the super smash bros brawl)

“This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in.”

Only Ryder could possibly say this in a chipper tone as he mopped away the remaining trickle from his bloodied nose.

Karma glared up from a case of taxidermy cicadas. "What do you mean Stupid? There's good money in bugs!"

"There's good money in bugs," Ryder repeated in a mix of awe and amusement. "You say weirder and weirder stuff everyday, you know that?"

"So help me, I'm gonna punch you again."

He smirked at the threat, stroking the dried blood that crusted over his backhand. "Eh, nothin' I'm not used to."

Ryder and Karma had an.....interesting relationship.

Think of a casual fling with no sentimental strings attached. But then replace kisses and sex with fistfights and smackdowns in a vacant field a couple times a week. Think of roars of triumph and screeches of pain.

Think of bruised knuckles and fistfuls of hair. Of broad beams and collapsing over eachothers' aching limbs, still panting out half hearted fightin' words as they fall into sweet naps under the summer sun.

Think of a goddamn garbage fire of a romance. Then subtract the romance.

There was nothing romantic about chipped teeth.

Their bond was a lot more antagonistic when they first met. Enemies, they called themselves.

It was a little different now. While they still claimed this was their relationship, it was all meaningless labels. Enemies certainly didn't hang around after the fight, bandage eachother up and share a pot of herbal tea.

"I mean, how hard can raising money possibly be?" Karma reasoned, neatly arranging her plates, pointing from one treasure to the next. "Say I sell two beetles and a butterfly. That's ten dollars already! How much is a cellphone anyway? Thirty? Forty dollars?"

Ryder sucked a breath through his teeth, setting his teacup down with a grimace. He shook his head. "Maybe go up a little, bro."

"Fifty?! Are you kidding me?!"

"You know, as shocking as this is to hear, listening to you guess how much a phone costs is way more entertaining than watching Netflix."

Karma tilted her head. "What's Netflix?"

Damn. He loved this dumbass, barbaric girl.

.....wait no, retract statement. That was not on the record yet.

It was strange though. He never imagined striking up any kind of relationship (let alone this weird one.) with a girl from the outskirting moss village. 

The place was borderline Amish and Karma represented that perfectly. The most advanced object in her home was an antique, wooden radio. Her dress looked to be fashioned out of a potato sack for God's sake.

Ryder, in contrast, always appeared with his blue and green dyed dreads and aqua earbuds hanging off a red, adidas hoodie. Popping colours and exuberant modernism. He attracted disapproving glowers whenever he set foot in the place.

The two had taken to sneaking around. Which made his stomach churn a little. Reminded him of Romeo and Juliet and he didn't like that.

Wait, they died at the end, didn't they? Though in fairness, Karma and Ryder would probably die too. By eachothers' hands, no less.

"If you think this is a dumb idea, why do you wanna help?" She asked.

"Why wouldn't I wanna help?" Ryder threw out his hands, astonished by the very notion that he would keep his nose out of this one. "I wanna see the moss village hag try to sell her creepy crawly collection to the poor, unsuspecting city slickers-OW!"

A fist struck his upper arm and he could only swallow and nod in acceptance. When he got too mouthy, she punched. He knew the drill.

Ryder swung back and thumped her shoulder  but Karma barely flinched. She was unresponsive, staring down at her bugs and worrying fingers through her hair. A few leaves came undone and fell from her mess of locks.

"I need this phone." She stated solemnly.

As she slouched over the kitchen table, bottom lip jutted out in a pout, his gaze lingered on the necklace that dangled over her chest.

A beetle pendant. Purchased by Ryder at a city market where vendor stalls lined the streets. He could still feel that rush of smug joy at the thought of presenting it to her. He would have urged her to wear it too, the hideous bug necklace that he had spent money on just for her.

That was the plan.

But to his complete astonishment, not an eyeroll nor scowl had been seen that day. On the contrary, it was Ryder's face that boiled as the girl burst into an ecstatic squeal, cradling her "gift." and eagerly begging for him to clip it around her neck.

The joke had backfired. Terribly. Karma adored her necklace and had worn it every day since. In theory, this should infuriate Ryder.

But it didn't.

Honestly, he didn't know where the joke ended and the sentiment began anymore. There were some dangerous signs at play here. The deep rooted delight at seeing that necklace still adorning her collar being one of them.

"I'm gonna help you." Said Ryder.

She looked to him, exasperated. "No thanks. I don't need you to sit there and laugh when I'm trying to-"

"No, no, I mean-...." He paused, taking a deep inhale. "I'm actually gonna help. Whenever me and my sisters need money, we go into the city and busk so-"

"Busk?"

"Uh. Make a fool of ourselves out in the street and people throw money at us. That's basically it. We like to breakdance."

Karma raised a brow. "You really think Suki and Glimmer would agree to it?"

"They will if their beloved brother asks them to."

"Excuse me?"

"Okay. Correction. They will if their beloved brother has to get super annoying and ask them repeatedly."

That got a giggle out of her. "Ryder, I don't wanna force your sisters to-"

"Karma. I'm kidding." He leaned back in his seat with a shrug and a scoff. "I know they'll do it if I ask because they love you."

She ran up her freckled arm, a small smile blooming on her face.

Karma got along remarkably well with his sisters. Which is ironic, considering she's whacked their brother (their own flesh and blood) like a goddamn a punching bag on multiple occasions. Apparently, that wasn't a dealbreaker for friendship? At least not where his roughed up family was concerned.

Ryder's folded arms slid across the table, not even realizing he was inching closer until she glanced up and he could take in the foresty shade of her irises.

"We're gonna get you a phone. I promise."

The smirk she gave him almost mirrored his own. Complete with the knowing glint in her eyes and playful cock of the head. They had been spending too much time together.

"Just say you love me already."

Ryder bit down on his bottom lip, barely gifting her with a reaction. They continued to stare eachother down as he half mindedly wondered if he should blink or not.

"You're not gonna go first?" He countered coolly. "I mean, why is it you want this phone exactly?"

Karma's smile twitched but remained in place. He had her.

The days of their final summer were counting down. In a few weeks, Ryder was off to college. He would be gone.

They both knew she didn't agree with that. Karma didn't want him gone. Neither of them did.

"Prank calls. Obviously."

Ryder laughed, letting his stiff frame melt. He met her eyes competitively. "I'm gonna make you say it one day."

"Not if you say it first."

"We'll see."

[jesbakescookies]

Here’s an old Christmas smut one shot. 

This is a AU featuring Merle and Sam from Sweet Hereafter, an if they met before type fic (you don’t need to read SH but it’s kinda fun to see them before).

If you’ve read Sweet Hereafter this is based ten years prior to the zombie out break. It is pretty much smut, fyi. This is a stand alone one shot that may or may not turn into something depending on reactions. Let me know your thoughts.

I don’t own the walking dead etc. OC and non canon stuff is mine.

Story contains lyrics and title is inspired from “If you want trouble” by Nick Waterhouse

On any given day Merle could find trouble. Whether it was booze, blow or broads, if he wanted it, he could find it. Trouble came easy for most Dixons but Merle was a professional hellion.

He could saunter into any shithole bar, in any asscrack of Georgia town and walk out with not only a goodie bag full of drug cocktails but a piece of tail to do them with.

It was easy, always was and probably always would be but that Christmas Eve night when the bars door opened with a groan and slammed shut with a obnoxious screech, a type of trouble walked in that would have Merle on his knees begging for it.

He stood at the end of the long sticky bar top, a beer bottle hanging loosely in his hand and cigarette tucked behind his ear. He had just finished working an odd job at a nearby packaging warehouse. They’d needed extra help for the holidays and he made a quick grand loading 18 wheelers with over priced bullshit for suburbanites. He was at the bar blowing through some of that hard earned cash when he saw her. His head lolled to the side, his piercing baby blues taking in the lean blonde swaying her way through the crowded tables. She sided up to the bar ordering a Jack and Coke from Martinez the resident pint slinger. Her blonde hair was haphazardly pulled back, tendrils falling onto the shoulders of her leather jacket.

Merle peered over and saw her curved ass painted in worn denim perched on the barstool, her boot clad foot braced on the kick rail. She was pale but her cheeks were flushed from the cold air whipping through the darkened streets. Her plump lips cupped the glasses rim as she sipped her drink. She was sexy as fuck and looked like she could chew a man up and spit him to the side.

He wanted her. 

Wanted her bent over a stationary object so he could rail into her. Spread open and wet for him.

Fuck, his cock throbbed at just the thought of seeing her soft thighs and perky tits. He hadn’t seen such a good looking woman in the whole state of Georgia, which said a lot since he spent most his time drifting all over those rolling hills.

Merle smirked at Martinez who was leaning towards her, his Latin charm in full swing. He could tell the blonde was unimpressed but gladly taking her free refill from the overconfident man.

Deciding it was time to see just what kind of girl he was checking out, Merle strolled over, sliding into the seat next to her. He leaned in close, his arm braced on the back of her barstool.

“Martinez botherin’ ya Sugar?” He drawled a slow grin curling his lips. She cocked an eyebrow and asked, “Your name Martinez too?”

Snorting Merle rasped sarcastically, “Do I look brown enough to be a fuckin’ Maaaartinez?”

“I figured Martinez was a code word for asshole or something.” She snarked sipping her drink. Merles eyes narrowed and asked, “Ya callin’ me an asshole Sugar?”

“Yes. Now can I drink in peace?”

Merle waved a hand dismissively and grunted, “Nah it’s Christmas Eve. Nobody should be alone on Christmas.”

“I don’t believe in Christmas.” she grumbled her finger swiping through the sweat on her glass. Chuckling Merle rasped, “Ya should. Saint Nick hooked ya up this year, ol’ Merle’s here t'keep ya company.”

“Oh really? Sounds like I got jipped.”

“Now that ain’t nice Sugar.” Merle pouted, his lip out before slowly grinning, “How bout ya tell me your name and we get t'know one anotha.”

“Names none of your damn business and I prefer to drink alone.” She growled, her eyes cutting to his angrily.

“Ya know what they say bout drinkin’ alone dontcha?” Merle teased, raising his eyebrow comically.

“No what?” She retorted, her lip curled into a sneer. Merle couldn’t get over how sexy she was while being a bitch. He wanted to suck on her snarling lip, maybe even bit it until she squirmed.

“That it’s boring as fuck.” He spoke plainly then suggested, “Now how ‘bout I buy ya another ‘n we go play a round of pool.”

Rolling her eyes, the woman threw back the last of her drink and conceded, “I’m not one to turn down free booze. Pony up old man.”

“Hey now! I ain’t no old man. Sugar.”

“It’s Sam not Sugar and I don’t give a shit s'long as you’re payin’.” She responded before sliding off the barstool and sauntering over to the pool tables. Merle watched her sexy ass sway over to the green felt tables and lean a curved hip against the edge. Two men were playing and only half way through the game when she batted her gorgeous blue eyes at them. Merle snorted as he watched them trip over themselves to set the table up for her and get her a cue.

“She looks more dangerous than you Dixon.” Martinez commented setting down another round of drinks.

“Pfft. I’ll take ‘er home by last call.” Merle rasped with a cocky grin, adding, “Bet ya tonight’s tab she walks out on my arm.”

Chuckling the bartender nodded, “A'right I’ll take that bet and a counter, I bet she lays you out flat when ya try.”

Rolling his eyes Merle joked, “Ain’t no girl knockin’ a Dixon out. Got a jaw of steel.”

Walking away with their drinks he met up with Sam at the tables. The two men currently trying their hand at winning the blonde over gave him the stink eye when he handed her another drink.

“Bout fucking time. I’m going crazy listening to these numb nuts try and teach me how to play pool.”

“Well ya heard the lady boys, fuck off and find some other cooze to hassle.” Merle dismissed the men, giving them a cocky sneer.

“Are you calling me a cooze?” She asked with a irritated wrinkle in her forehead.

“Well ya got a nice pair of tits 'n I’m just assumin’ but I bet ya got a nice slice of pie too. So yeah cooze.”

“I’m gonna need a whole lot more alcohol to put up with your shit Merle.” Sam sighed before gulping her latest drink. “Better keep your tab open.”

“My pleasure, now get your sexy ass over there and break.”

Sam took the cue from the table and stood at the end, her lithe body leaning over to break the triangle formation of balls. He licked his bottom lip, biting it almost bloody as her shirt dipped showing off delicious looking cleavage. The thought of licking up the curve and biting down on the narrow column of her neck had Merle adjusting his jeans. He watched as she broke the table up, the balls spreading out and a solid falling into a corner pocket.

“Good girl,” he rasped, sipping his beer watching her move easily around the table. The woman was hot and could apparently play a mean game of pool because it took a few shots before Merle had a turn. He watched her lean casually against the table, her ass perched on the edge while she gulped the last of her drink.

“Should slow down Sugar. I want ya walking out on my arm not thrown over my shoulder.” He gave her a toothy grin while sinking a stripe into a pocket. Sam rolled her eyes and retorted, “Who says I’ll be leaving with you of all people.”

“Well you’re stickin’ around to play a game with me, drinking my booze.”

“So you buy me drinks and I owe you?” Sam sneered.

Chuckling while taking a shot he drawled, “Nah just means you’re enjoyin’ my company.”

Snorting she dead panned, “No it means I enjoy booze.”

Laughing gruffly Merle nodded while shrugging lazily. “S'pose so but ya coulda drank at the bar but now you’re playin pool with me.”

“So I like pool doesn’t mean you’re getting anywhere near my 'slice of pie’.” Sam imitated his drawl while repeating his catch phrase. Merle grinned and swaggered closer, his head cocking to the side as he approached drawling slow and thick, “I guaran-goddamn-tee you’d enjoy me being reeeal close to your pie. So much so you’d ache for me later.”

“Oh really?” She breathed clearing her throat and suggested, “maybe I’m a lesbian.”

“You? A carpet muncher?” Merle laughed gruffly, rubbing a hand over his rough jaw, “Nah. I got a feelin’ most broads don’ like ya. I see all the other cats hissing in the room. They don’t seem t'like the competition.”

“Yeah well maybe I don’t like sex at all. Maybe I’m celibate.”

“Doubt it.” He drawled, his finger curling in her belt loop, pulling her closer. He listened to her breathing kick up and watched her cheeks flush. He could feel the heat radiating off her as he rasped quietly, “Ya like sex. I can tell these things.”

“Pffft.” Sam huffed pushing him away while picking up his beer and taking a swig “Like booze more.” She muttered as she dropped another ball in a corner pocket.

They played two games, both of which Merle won by the skin of his teeth. Sam drank more than he thought possible for a woman her size and was still on her feet. Her words were slower but she was far from a slurring drunken mess. She either drank heavily often or had some super powers that burned off alcohol rapidly.

“I wanna dance.” She announced turning on her heel to saunter over to the jukebox. Merle watched her scan through all the different available tracks and drop a few coins in, her fingers pushing her choice.

The music picked up a guitar and horn sounding song with jazzy drums. It wasn’t something Merle would ever listen to, being more of a hard rock stereotypical redneck music fan. However it made Sam sway her little ass across the dance floor so it might be the best song Merle had ever heard. He felt his feet moving before his mind caught up, the idea of holding onto those supple curves while she gyrated intoxicated him.

“If you want trouble

You got it”

Merle had never heard a more accurate song lyric in all his life. Fucking hell he didn’t just want it, he needed it. He watched her turn as he approached, her eyes hooded and predatory, her hips swaying and dipping. Her hands were sliding up her curves and over her head, twisting together into her hair seductively. Reaching forward Merle grabbed her hips, his fingers curling under her belt to yank her against his front making her squeak and giggle. Merle grinned wolfishly at the sound, “C'mere Sugar. Wanna feel ya.”

“Said you been thinking all night about it

Well if you look you know where I’ll be”

Sam’s soft body stretched out along his broad frame. Her hands slid up his chest to grasp the back of his neck, her blunt nails scraping along the back of his head. He grunted at the overwhelming sensation and warned, “Careful girl.” Sam smirked at him while swirling her hips to the bass.

“If if you want trouble yeah, trouble

If you want trouble.”

Her damn blue eyes looked dark as pitch and the friction of her lithe body swaying against his had Merle rock hard.

“Sugar, ya got no fuckin’ idea how sexy ya are.” He drawled softly, his breath ghosting over the curve of her ear. His hand stroked its way to her lower back, fingertips sliding under the hem of her shirt to touch soft skin. Applying the barest of pressures had Sam plastered to his chest, a tiny gasp catching his ear. Merle didn’t dance and probably never would have but Sam had him shuffling with her to the music, her body curling around his. She let her hands drag down his broad shoulders, her nimble fingers touching the edges of his shirt sleeve. Merle swallowed thickly as his groin pulsed with need. She wasn’t doing anything sexual, just the warmth of her fingertips was enough to cause a throb inside him. Soon her hands were sliding along his stomach making his abs twitch until they curled into the leather of his vest, pulling him closer.

“You got moves old man.” She rasped, her voice low and breathy. Merle chuckled and whispered hoarsely “ya got no fuckin’ idea girl. No fuckin’ idea.”

Letting his lips graze the sensitive skin behind her ear Merle heard her panting, the sexy woman obviously as turned on as he was. The song slowed and eventually ended, leaving them standing there staring at each other, both sounding breathless.

“Let’s get outta here. Got some party favors back at my place.” Merle rasped hoarsely, ticking his head to the exit door as his fingers stroked her lower back. Sam hummed to herself, lips pursed slightly. He could see her tossing the idea around in her pretty little head before she responded, “I gotta make a stop first.”

“A'right.” Merle agreed quickly, anything to get her alone and with less clothing. He, gripped her hand and began pulling her out of the bar. Giving Martinez the one finger salute and a cocky grin, Merle hollered, “Thanks for the drinks Marty.”

The man’s eyes narrowed and he shook his bald head while drying a pint glass. “Fuck you Dixon.”

The couple headed outside to Merle’s motorcycle as Sam looked at him dubiously. “Are you too drunk to drive this thing without killing me? I kinda like having skin on my face.” She asked with a worried expression.

Merle chuckled, “Girl I’ve been ridin’ drunk since before you were a twinkle in you pa’s eye.”

“First off, there ain’t been no twinkle in my sperm donors eye in his whole goddamn life and you aren’t that much older than me.”

“A girl with daddy issues, surprise surprise.” He muttered before asking, “How old are then?”

He climbed on and held an arm out to help her balance. Sam swung her leg over and replied, “22.”

“Well I got a dozen years on ya, girl.” Merle replied, his eyebrows raised.

“Fuck off Merle.” She sneered playfully.

“Ya always a bitch?”

“Nah. Just to assholes like you.” She quipped from behind him, her arms squeezing him tightly.

Merle could tell she was smiling and didn’t let her rude words effect him. Instead he chuckled and drawled, “A'right where to, smart ass?”

“Fifth and main.”

Merle cocked an eyebrow at the location. His dealer was located at fifth and main but it seemed odd for her to know Crowley. He’d never seen her in town before, let alone hanging out at that low life’s place.

“What ya gotta do there?”

“Just dropping something off.” She answered vaguely, “Sooner we get 'er done the sooner we can relax for the evening.”

Merle could picture her eyebrow cocked suggestively, her lip bitten pink. Kick starting the bikes engine they peeled out fast and hard, gravel spitting out behind them. Ten minutes later they pulled up to fifth and main and sure enough she strolled towards Crowley’s. “Stay here.” She told him as she slide off the bike expertly.

“I don’t think ya should go in there alone darlin’.”

“Stay here.” She repeated over her shoulder without a backwards glance.

Merle watched her lean against the doorframe and knock, waiting for the scumbag to answer. When the door opened Crowley looked irritated at first but then frightened. Merle climbed off instantly but watched in rapt attention as Sam punched he dealer in the face and pushed him back inside. Merle jogged up the steps and made it inside before she kicked the door closed.

“I said stay outside,” Sam growled before pulling out a handgun from her purse.

“Jesus sugar. Whatcha doin’?”

“Dropping off a message.” She growled, her gun aimed at the dealer’s head.

Crowley was sitting on the staircase holding a bloodied nose. Sam stood in front of him and spoke evenly and calmly. “Now Fuckhead, I’m sure you’re aware of why I’m here…”

The lowlife drug dealer nodded and mumbled through his hand, “Yeah. Look I’m sorry.”

“Fuck your sorries. He wants his fucking money. Not next week, not tomorrow. Right fucking now.”

“I don’t…”

“You do. Don’t lie you nutless bitch. I didn’t travel 100 miles to the armpit of Georgia for no goddamn reason.” She growled kicking him in leg, “now get your dumb fucking ass up and take me to your hideyhole and get me the fucking money.”

Crowley sighed and crawled to his feet, pushing himself up with a groan. Merle stood there shocked at the dramatic change in events. He’d planned on getting high and fucking the day lights out of Sam but now Merle stood as she threatened some assholes life for some kinda of crime boss.

“Stay Merle. I fucking mean it.” She ordered following the guy into the back of the house. Merle stood there feeling awkward for the first time in a long time. He wasn’t used to being bossed around but the bitch had a gun and didn’t seem to mind threatening people with it. Moments later he heard her returning, her gun tucked away and her bag slung heavily over her back.

“Don’t try this again Crowley or I’ll come back and be less than nice to you.”

“Ok, ok. I promise.”

“Fuck off.” She mumbled walking out of the house and towards his bike. Merle looked back at his dealer and drawled, “Hey man, I didn’t know she was… Whatever she is.”

“Run from that bitch Merle. She’s a goddamn psycho.”

They pulled up in front of Merle’s apartment complex and climbed off the bike. Merle looked her over and watched as she pulled out a cigarette and lit up, blowing smoke to the side. He took her offered smoke and cupped the flame of her lighter, inhaling slow and deep. Staring at Sam he spoke through his exhale, “So who are ya and whaddya do?”

Rolling her eyes she teased, “I’m Sam and I pick things up and drop things off.”

Snorting he drawled, “No shit. Who do ya work for?”

“A boss just like everybody else. I’m not here to fucking gossip Merle.” She responded before flicking her spent butt away and tilting her head towards the building, “We going in or am I calling a cab?”

Merle sucked the last of his smoke away and dropped it to the ground. He strolled inside, climbing the narrow stairway with Sam following him. They got to his door and he unlocked it, ushering her in first. His brother was drinking a beer and watching some program about cars. Daryl’s narrowed eyes took in the sight of Sam and then his eyes land on Merle. He could see his little brother was shocked at the quality of girl he brought home. Merle was the first to admit he didn’t have high standards of the quality of his pussy, he was a quantity not quality type guy. Sam was not only beautiful but she had turned out to be quick as a whip and unafraid to trade barbs. It didn’t even piss him off when she jabbed back at him. It was refreshing. Not to mention he now knew she was straddling the line of the law just like him.

“I don’t do three ways Merle if that’s your plan.” She snarked throwing her bag onto the chair by the couch. Daryl’s eyes widened and he looked like he was going to run away.

“Don’t worry bout Daryl. He ain’t no ladies man.” Merle rasped heading into the kitchen to grab a couple beers. Daryl huffed out an angry breath at Merle’s comment but didn’t respond. Sam however spoke up, “Why the fuck not? He’s the better looking brother.”

Merle stomped out and growled, “Now that’s fuckin’ bullshit and mean.”

Sam snorted, “What? He is, maybe I wanna trade up.”

“Sugar I bought fucking drinks all night. Ya ain’t swapping brothers.”

“First off I don’t owe you shit for buying me drinks all night. Second you didn’t even fucking buy them, you won a bet on if I’d leave with you sooooo technically my ass bought the goddamn drinks.”

Daryl watched them argue before picking up his beer and strolling into his room, his door shutting with a resounding click.

Sam smirked and asked, “He always shy?”

Nodding Merle flopped down on the other side of the sofa he asked, “So come on, who do ya work for?”

Huffing out an indignant breath, “No offense but fuck off. I’m not telling you shit.”

Merle rasped, “Sugar, ya owe me an answer.” Laughing she took a gulp of beer and sighed, “I don’t owe you shit.”

“Crowley’s my connection, he ain’t gonna be too pleased with me now. Ya owe me.”

Rolling her eyes Sam sipped her beer before stating, “I work for his boss. I take care of some deliveries. Messages or packages. I’m not telling you names and shit.”

“Fine. How the fuck did ya get involved in this shit?”

“Crowley’s boss is… was my boyfriend.”

Merle eyes widened and he shot up, “What the fuck?! Ya didn’t tell me ya got an old man let alone some fuckin’ drug lord.”

“Pfft. Drug lord my ass. The guys an asshole who I’m dumping now that I got cash to take off with.”

Furrowing his brow he drawled, “So what, you’re takin’ Crowley’s money and runnin’?”

“Yeah. So no worries about him coming after you, he’ll be too busy chasing me.” Sam joked but he could see the strain behind her mask.

“He gonna come after ya?”

“Well I’m stealing from him and dumping his stupid ass.”

“Where ya goin’?” Merle asked wondering if she actually had a plan of if she was just winging it.

“Don’t know. North. Tired of this shit hole state.”

Merle hummed the knowledge and leaned back chugging his beer. Setting it to the side he pat his lap an rasped, “C'mere Sugar. Let’s celebrate your last night in town.”

Sam smirked and set her bottle down asking, “Where are these party favors?”

“Whatcha want? Weed, a lil crystal or oxys?”

Sam snorted, “Weed. I like my teeth and Oxys are for fucking hillbillies.”

Merle glared at her and drawled, “Fuck you.”

“That’s the goal right?” She quipped pulling off her boots and tossing her jacket to the side. Merle got distracted as she sat back down, her shirt highlighting her curved tits and narrow waist.

“Gonna just stare at me all night old man? Ya havin a stroke?”

“God you’re such a bitch.” He muttered pulling out his weed stash from the coffee table. He packed the tiny bowl and handed it over with a lighter. He watch Sam pull a deep hit, her eyes closed as she held it for a few seconds. Her eyes slide open as she blew the pungent smoke to the side. Handing it back Merle took a deep pull and relaxed back into the sofa. After a few passes the bowl was spent and the pair were zoning out. Merle’s head lolled to the side and he saw her smirking at him.

“What?”

“I was lying.” She stated with a tiny grin.

Raising an eyebrow he drawled, “Bout what?”

“Trading up.”

Smiling widely he asked, “Oh yeah? He ain’t better looking?”

“I didn’t say that I just meant I wouldn’t trade up. I kinda like your big mouth. He’s too quiet.” She joked with a twinkle in her eyes.

“Pffft. Such a twat.”

Sam laughed loudly and sighed, “I love that word. Twwwwwat.”

Merle snorted and reached out, pulling on her wrist. Sam crawled over to straddle his lap. He groaned as her ass pressed against his semi. She cocked an eyebrow and the rolled her hips against his obvious arousal making him moan loudly, his head falling back against the couch cushion.

“What? Been showin’ off your tits, which by the way ya got a nice set on ya.” He slid his hands up her ribs, his large palms cupping her breasts as his thumbs ran across her nipples. Merle felt them harden under his touch making his hands flex, squeezing her chest firmly. Sam moaned leaning forward, her mouth delving into his. Merle cupped the back of her head, tangling his fingers into her blonde hair. He pulled her closer, fisting the soft locks as he ravaged her mouth. “Goddamn you taste good.” He groaned, his hips thrusting upwards in between her thighs.

“Mmhhm.” She moaned, pulling back to strip her shirt off. Merle growled at the sight of her full creamy tits almost overflowing out of a see-through black lace bra.

“Jesus Sugar. Your tits should be illegal.” His hands stroked her shoulders before curling his fingers under the straps of her bra, dragging them down her arms. The cups of her bra fell and out poured her pale breasts. Merle groaned before cupping her, his mouth sucking and biting the delicate curve of her tits before sucking her pink nipple into his hot mouth. Sam moaned at the motions, her hips rolling against his lap. He couldn’t help but thrust upwards, his hands gripping her hips to push her down against his rock hard cock.

“Fucking Christ Sugar.” He muttered, moving his mouth up her neck until he reached her swollen lips. Their tongues battled for control as their hands gripped onto each other. Merle wrapped his arms around her waist before standing up to head to his room. Sam secured her legs around his body and braced her arms across his shoulders. He grasped her ass, his fingers kneading the flesh as he walked, his mouth nipping and sucking on her neck. Once in his bedroom he tossed her onto the bed making her giggle.

Merle smirked and pulled his shirt off, his hands going to his belt instantly. He watched as she unhooked her bra and then peeled off her ridiculously tight pants. She was completely naked, spread out across his mattress. He drank her in, the soft line of her thighs and dip of her waist. Her hair was splayed out on the dark sheets like some kind of angelic temptress. She was so goddamn beautiful Merle could barely keep his hands from grabbing her like a desperate crackhead on payday looking to score.

“Fucking christ you’re sexy.” He rasped stepping out of his jeans. Crawling onto the bed over her, Merle let his nose graze her thigh and waist. His tongue tasting her warm skin and his teeth nipping along the way. Sam moaned as Merle’s large palms stroked and squeezed her ass while rutting against her wet heat.

“Fuck old man, you still have moves.” She groaned as he placed open mouth kisses along her neck before sucking and biting her earlobe.

Merle chuckled, rolling his hips between her spread thighs. “Ain’t done anything yet girl. M'gonna make you scream my name Sugar.”

Sam kissed him deeply, her tongue sliding against his while her hands gripped his neck. Merle was drowning in her scent and taste. She was a siren and he couldn’t help but want to fall to his knees and worship every fucking inch of her.

“Please… more.” Sam begged, her legs wrapping around his waist to squeeze him closer. Merle groaned as his overheated skin slid against her wet lips.

“Fuck. Lemme. Git somethin’.” He growled his accent thick and slow, pulling away to get a condom. Merle hated to do it but he wasn’t getting Sam knocked up or giving her something from his checkered past.

Soon he was sitting back on his heels to watch his cock slid inside her tight body. Merles mouth dropped open as he panted, the sight of her engulfing him was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen.

“Jesus.” he gasped while rocking into her slowly. Sam’s whole body arched off the mattress and a deep flush crawled up her chest to her cheeks.

“Oh my god.” She moaned her nails biting into his shoulders, red marks blossoming on his tan skin. “Fuck.. Merle. Move goddamnit. ”

Laughing he began rocking faster, his hands gripping her hips with bruising force. Merle clenched his jaw and his neck muscle strained at the intense sensation of her hot walls sucking him in. “Sugar. How the fuck…” He panted, sweat dripping along his temple, “are you so.. goddamn… tight.”

Sam laughed breathily, her pelvis rising off the bed to meet his snapping hips. He couldn’t figure out what was overwhelming him more, her tight hot walls or the look in her eyes. The deep blue was almost non existent with her blown pupils. A sharp gasp exited her parted lips before every muscle in her lithe frame seized. The tension snapped and Sam came harder than any woman Merle had ever felt. Her walls gripped his dick by the root making him growl like a feral animal. The sounds she was making made his eyes roll back in his head.

“Mother of..” He groaned while plunging as deep as physically possible, his body bowed over her. His jaw snapped shut as brilliant light flashed behind his clenched eyes. Within moments his body released, his cock pulsing and throbbing, every muscle and bone becoming gelatinous.

Blood pounded in his ears as he blinked sweat out of his eyes. Sam was panting, her hooded gaze looking thoroughly satisfied.

“Well fuck.” She muttered letting out a snort. Merle cocked an eyebrow and rasped hoarsely, “Whatcha laughin at.”

“I guess age brings experience yeah?”

Barking out a dry laugh Merle rolled off of her and reached for his cigarettes. “Bes’ not question my prowess again Sugar, I’ll tan that sexy ass.”

Sam’s laugh was a combination of a giggle and a snort. Obnoxiously cute. Merle couldn’t stop from trying to make her do it just to hear it again. He’d never spent much time with a woman after sex, it was a new situation but not unpleasant. They lay together tangled in sheets chatting about nothing and everything.

“I swear t'christ I never seen so much blood come outta a guys nose before.” He chuckled finishing up an anecdote about a bar fight. Sam smirked and crawled over him, straddling his hips. “My big tough redneck.” She purred with a playful glint in her eye. Merle chuckled gripping her face to pull her mouth to his. He twirled his tongue against her, the taste of her sweet mouth filling his.

“Fuck old man you know how to kiss.” She moaned as his mouth trailed along her soft neck.

“Girl ya haven’t even felt these lips between those soft thighs yet..” He drawled, trailing his tongue down the curve of her collarbone. “Got no idea the things I can do to ya.”

“Fuck Merle.” She moaned at the statement, her hips rolling against his. “Show me… Please.”

Muffling a laugh against her chest Merle rasped, “since ya said please.”

Merle woke to the smell of something cooking and the thump of a cabinet door. He wrinkled his brow looking at the mattress to see it empty. Rolling out of bed he pulled on a pair of boxers and tank top before sauntering into the kitchen. Sam was standing at the stove cooking potatoes and some kind of meat. She was wearing his beat up flannel that landed mid thigh and nothing else. He licked his lip at the sight of her bare legs and the memory of what was underneath the worn cotton.

Daryl was sitting at the table his head resting against wall as he watched her cook. Merle cocked an eyebrow and asked, “whatcha cooking? We don’t got shit here.”

She smirked and snarked, “yeah I noticed, you two live on pizza and beer Huh?”

Laughing Merle walked up behind her, his hands sliding along her hips and his chin resting on her shoulder. Looking down he saw she had found some frozen venison and was making a hash with potatoes.

“You had two potatoes and some kind meat. Deer?”

Grunting in response he reached over to grab a piece but she smack his hand with the spoon and snapped, “Hands off old man.”

Daryl snorted and got the stink eye from Merle for it. “Bes stop calling me old man after last night.”

Laughing she bumped him with her hip to reach the cupboard with plates. Sam served them both a pile of meat and hash before giving herself a smaller portion. They sat at the tiny card table eating silently.

“So what’s on the agenda then? Ya skippin town?” Merle asked wiping his hand across his mouth when done. Sam shrugged and mumbled through a mouthful of food, “yeah. S'pose I should high tail it the fuck out of here soon. Words Gonna get back I picked up cash.”

Daryl’s face looked confused but he didn’t ask. Merle rolled his eyes and drawled, “Sam here is on the run.”

Before he could explain the sound of a phone ringing in the living room had Sams fork pause mid bite. Standing up she grabbed her bag, pulling out the black device. Pursing her lips she answered, “ lo”?“

Merle watched her roll her eyes as the person spoke and answer, “I needed a couple days to myself. I picked up and I’ll be back tomorrow night probably.”

There was a long pause while she listened before she snapped, “well I don’t give a fuck. I’m not some goddamn house pet.”

Merle looked at Daryl who asked, “Who she runnin from?”

“Some drug dealer, she fucking rolled Crowley last night for money.”

Daryl’s eyebrows almost touched his hairline at the statement. “Ya just watch?”

“What could I do? She had already punched him and had him at gunpoint.”

“Jesus Merle whatcha getting involved in this shit.”

“You seeing what I’m seeing baby brother? Look at that fucking ass and let me tell ya she knows what to do with those goddamn curves.”

“Yeah I heard.” He muttered finishing his food. Merle chortled at the statement and went back to listening to her. The conversation had cooled off and she was placating the boyfriend, “alright. I’ll call you tonight and be home tomorrow evening.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She muttered hanging up without a goodbye.

Strolling back into the kitchen she sat down and drawled, “well I’m gonna head out soon. Can I get a ride back to my car?”

Merle rode over to the bar with Sam wrapped around him, her hands splayed across his taut stomach. She was drawing small circles along his tshirt making his jeans tighten and groin ache. He didn’t want her to leave yet which was an odd feeling to have since he didn’t give a shit about most people. It had always been him and Daryl against the world and the idea that he wanted more was foreign.

As they pulled up they found that her car was gone and there was a pile of broken glass where her window had been busted out.

“Well fuck.” She muttered climbing off the bike. “That sucks.”

Merle laughed at her bored tone, “could say that again. We reporting it to the cops?”

“Fuck no. It wasn’t even mine.”

“What do you mean?”

“I stole it a few towns over,” she confessed shrugging while pulling out a pack of smokes, “guess I’m looking for a new ride.”

Merle barked out a gruff laugh, taking her offered smoke and drawled, “I’m thinkin’ ya may be trouble, Sugar.”

Sam smirked while exhaling, her lips curled and eyes bright, “You’ve got no fucking idea how right you are, old man.”

[mdccanon]

Oh, Lord yes. Fics that intentionally warp character's personalities or the backstory to play the violin are so obnoxious. Really, I only tolerate OOC for comedy, not drama. Because you are clearly manufacturing the drama and calling it a critique of the anime.

And to the point of "I am worth something," there is definitely a complex happening with a lot of writers when they resent Inko and All Might for the first two episodes, basically using the logic that if Izuku's feelings are hurt, that means his parent figures are wrong.

HOW many fanfics have we seen of people saying "Quirkless Lives Matter," have Izuku reject All Might's offer ... ... ... AND THEN GIVE HIM A QUIRK ANYWAY, and he goes to UA anyway?! Or else some Ironman/Batman level genius and engineering skills. It's very telling when a person both rejects the status quo but then still seeks its validation.

If you feel Izuku has worth as a Quirkless person... separate that from literal hero worship and recognize that his worth isn't determined by if a popularity contest acknowledges how many people he's saved.

If you feel Izuku has worth as a Quirkless person... separate that from his over-compensating in episodes 1-2, where even when All Might tells him exactly what to do, Izuku "goes Plus Ultra" because he thinks overworking himself is the best way to get to the top.

If you feel Izuku has worth as a Quirkless person... then recognize the difference between a wish with no work and actual talent. Bakugou felt he was destined to be a hero... so he TRAINED to be a hero and designed a good suit to be a hero. Midoriya WISHED to be a hero, so he spent all his time in a notebook and its only because of All Might that he spent ten months training his body. Absolutely NO anti-All Might fic I've ever read acknowledges this. They act like Izuku was ready from Episode One to take the UA Entrance Exam. He most certainly was NOT. All Might saw Izuku's skills - quirk analysis and investigation - that he actually spent 10 years cultivating and told him those made more sense to pursue in a career. That wasn't someone telling a C+ high schooler that his only way into college would be by a basketball scholarship. That is identical to a kid with a dozen STEM competition awards purposefully ignoring scholarships for his skills and saying the only way HE can get into college is by a basketball scholarship, because he's such a big fan of Michael Jordan.

.... And with all that being said, "Shiggy did nothing wrong" fics are equally unbearably boring, because if the writer isn't willing to write the copious amounts of murder, villain-recruiting, and kidnapping to make more nomu that the League of Villains DOES as their literal job... then they really do shove these criminals into "a bunch of kids hanging out in some rich kid's decked out basement."

Boring. Boring. Borning. I'd rather read "Mr. Compress brings the Gentle Criminal to Shigaraki as a possible recruit" than that bullshit.

Sensei and Izuku fics are much better. AFO's Guide to Retirement is wonderful. So is Conversations with a Cryptid. I love intelligent heroes and villains, just, talking to each other... *chef's kiss*

Why are "Suspected Traitor Midoriya Izuku" fanfics so painfully cliché and nonsensical?

The ONLY villain Izuku could be implicated in working with is Stain.

I thought this little subgenre of the fandom would produce a FEW interesting deviating AUs about Midoriya starring in The Fugitive. Instead, what I found was a poorly-written story template that erases 40% of Seasons 1 and 2’s plot points to make Hurt, No Comfort fanfiction about whumpee Izuku Midoriya having panic attacks from police brutality, and then attempting suicide.

The trend popped up in 2020, during the Overhaul Arc, but the fanfics feature so little in-story information and focus mostly on information from the first 5 episodes, with a hard emphasis on middle school. It feels like a MHA whump enthusiast started telling their community about an anime featuring a bullied crybaby and they flocked over. These stories have so little understanding of the actual anime, they read more like the writers only understand the story by other people’s fanfiction. Clips of the show, at best.

So, below are common flaws in these whump stories, how they could be improved, but ultimately how dropping the "He's working with the League" plot point and having them suspect him of working with Stain is far more plausible in-story.

This is all with the FULL UNDERSTANDING that these stories are supposed to be about an innocent Izuku being persecuted, betrayed, and heartbroken so that he can fall into despair, be abused, cry crystal tears of suffering… I’m into that shit. I had already leafed through a hundred or so stories of Bakugou and Shigaraki abusing him. And I wouldn't have read SO many of THESE stories if I wasn't looking for good content... It's just that even the most popular stories on AO3 are SO weaksauce.

Elevate yourself. Do better.

Ignoring Police Procedure because the Authors Prefer Nonsensical Accusations

The authors want to get to police/UA staff beating Izuku in an undisclosed basement as soon as possible… Which I wholeheartedly appreciate, but I suppose its a matter of taste that I don't share their opinion that Izuku's heartbreak is sweeter if the accusations make no sense.

I’d prefer either changing key details in the story so that the investigation has a plausible accusation (actually write the League framing Izuku) OR using the literal plot of the anime and being clever about what accusation could be made and by whom.

I read a story where Izuku was framed with a video of him setting fire to the school and because Aizawa and All Might were so mad, they skipped investigation and a TRIAL and just held Izuku in a sensory deprivation prison for five years. The League has a shapeshifter AND a clone-maker, y'all. I did a find search of the entire story. No one mentions Toga or Twice, not even once.

At summer camp, the League could implicate Izuku as their mole and reveal that kidnapping Bakugou was part of Izuku's payment. Hell, let Izuku run into the portal, restrain him, kill Bakugou, throw Izuku to All for One so that he can be miraculously healed of ALL of his injuries and tell him, "Good luck getting All Might to believe you weren't working with us." Because if the story is ALWAYS going to be "no one bothers to call Tsukauchi The Human Lie Detector until after they've mentally and physically scarred Izuku for life" ... could the prompt for the betrayal be a bit more interesting?

Or after USJ, Bakugou tells Aizawa Izuku’s “I was given a quirk” confession that, when paired with All Might telling him about All for One, leads Aizawa to quickly and quietly detain Izuku. (Which is also a good cautionary tale about why the hell Kacchan gets to be in the loop but Aizawa has no idea what's going on.) I mean, c'mon, the plot of MHA is basically begging for Izuku to confess that he was given All Might's power and Aizawa not believe him because, hello, All Might clearly still has his quirk.

Erasing 40% of the story to make a plot-holes doesn’t make Izuku’s heartbreak any sweeter. Making characters OOC requires massaging the plot, anyway. If you’re going to change Aizawa to foaming-at-the-mouth irrational or change Class A to being “so scared” no one assumes Izuku must have been coerced into working with Shigaraki information… the LEAST you could do is come up with an interesting red herring to explain why an underground hero lost the ability to do a proper investigation?

Izuku Writes Creepy Notebooks

For most of these stories, this is the only evidence that Izuku was working with the League, in some stories, Aizawa beats Izuku for simply having the notebooks; thinking he’s League traitor isn’t even mentioned! I can see why the bloodthirsty whump writers like this: the notebooks are connected to middle school bullying, so Class A resenting them can quickly segue into Izuku having PTSD panic attacks and running to make his first suicide attempt.

These stories also completely ignore that Izuku asks people questions. Authors will write that Izuku wrote several pages about Uraraka but never, ever actually talked to her to answer his questions: Would she lose her quirk if she loses even one finger (like Shigaraki)? Should Hatsume make protection gloves? How about Ashido, Bakugou and Todoroki? Would Todoroki's powers still work with protective gloves like Bakugou?

But, am I a bad person for wanting a bit more meat on this bone? Instead of Aizawa/Nezu expelling/arresting Izuku simply because they fear the notebooks could be used for evil in the future, doesn’t it sound plausible to believe and heartbreaking for Izuku to have to prove that "most of Stain's victims are profiled in the last few of Izuku's notebooks." (It would still be circumstantial evidence since, if Izuku writes profiles on hundreds of heroes across 15 notebooks, some of them being Stain’s victims is just par for the course. But I prefer this idea over “Izuku OPENLY writes in his notebooks every day, but doesn’t that just prove he’s the traitor even more because we’d assume no traitor would be stupid enough to spy on us in our faces? Gyah! His evil genius is staggering.")

PS: If Bakugou points out that shitty Deku has been making these notebooks for so long, #1 is more of a coloring book of his favorite heroes... he either gets called a traitor too and thrown into prison to be beaten or everyone's response is simply "But they exist! They EXIST! They are creepy!"

Let’s Ignore the USJ/Internship Plot, Even Thought the Fanfic is about the USJ/Internship

Izuku passed on information about Class A to Shigaraki... even though a major plot point of USJ was that Shigaraki didn't know anything about Class A's abilities.

Insist that Izuku’s multiple, painful self-sacrificing moments were all just covers for his evil plans. Either that, or don’t mention them at all, because pointing out that he broke his legs to help All Might sounds like too good of a reason to trust him.

Let’s erase All for One, Gran Torino, and the Nomus from the story because we either need All Might to assume Izuku told Shigaraki about his injury or the story features a quirkless Izuku and the accusation that All for One was rewarding him with a secret quirk is too logical to be allowed. All Might/Nezu/Aizawa cannot be allowed a plausible reason to assume Shigaraki seduced Izuku to the dark side.

Completely ignore that Tsukauchi The Human Lie Detector wrote Izuku’s statement.

Izuku did Summer Camp… Because

Since this is the arc that introduces the concept of “a traitor in their midst,” this trend just crammed Izuku into it without making it fit. So now most of the 400 fanfics are stuck rewriting a few templates of Class A and the teachers accusing him for no reason and ignoring what actually HAPPENED at the summer camp to do so. Because… he has notebooks…

Again, insist that Izuku’s multiple, painful self-sacrificing moments were all just covers for his evil plans. Either that, or don’t mention them at all. Because two broken arms, going out of his way to save a little boy, coming up with plans to save several classmates, and contributing to the arrests of two villains sound like too good of reasons to trust him.

Izuku TOLD the Pussycats who the target and was part of the vanguard protecting him. Without that message, Mr. Compass would have still captured Bakugou with NO ONE being the wiser. No, let’s go one step deeper. Izuku could have left Bakugou behind during the final exam so that he would be forced to take remedial lessons. If the kids who failed really were staying behind, Izuku would give that address. If it was just a logical deception, Izuku would give that address.

Honestly, I've never seen a "he told the League where the summer camp was" story that actually talked about what happened at the summer camp. These fanfictions will have CHAPTERS of Izuku having panic attacks from middle school days and never mention Bakugou... the reason for Izuku's lack of self-worth. Authors will give Izuku trust issues with teachers to make his panic attacks because of Aizawa more heartbreaking... and never, ever mention that Bakugou is the reason teachers didn't help him.

Completely ignore that Tsukauchi The Human Lie Detector wrote Izuku’s statement.

Overhaul is Such a Touching and Courageous Arc that it is Never Mentioned

Sometimes, sometimes... the whole "Gyah, Izuku makes creepy notebooks so lets turn on him!" plot happens after the Overhaul Arc... But his actions during the Arc are NEVER mentioned.

I do recall two stories: One where Aizawa accused him of working for Stain, the League and Overhaul at the same time and when Izuku points out that makes no sense, he gets punched and told not to talk back... And in another, they just accuse Izuku being the mole who informed the yakuza of the sting operations... and no one, not even the Big Three mention how little sense that makes.

Everyone shut up. Beating the every-loving shit out of Kaiju Overhaul and single-handedly saving the tortured girl are nothing compared to creepy notebooks.

Assuming Stain and Izuku are mentor and pupil

By using the plot of the anime...

Nezu/Aizawa/All Might assuming middle school Deku imprinted on Stain the moment he heard a “All Might alone is worthy” speech is a much better assumption than … oh, right, without All for One in the story, there is no logical explanation how NEET Shigaraki recruited Izuku, when he couldn’t even recruit decent henchmen for USJ.

I like the idea of Stain disabling the two heroes who didn’t save Kacchan. Two cowards scolding a child for being braver than them? Since Stain’s arc is a year and some change from Ep. 1, if those two heroes were among the first he ever attacked, it could cause someone to double-take that their last patrol before being forced into retirement was featured on the news with two future UA students.

Stain SAVED Deku from Shigaraki. For any Pro Hero to assume that means Izuku was working with Shigaraki instead of Stain is like watching a girl stick her tongue down a guy's throat and doubting they are a couple because you saw that girl snatch a weave off someone she hates in the school parking lot.

Stain followers, in plain view of Pro Heroes, have declared Izuku as equally a true hero as All Might, saved him, or helped him save the day. Not only was Toga instrumental in Izuku's success in the Overhaul Arc (and Uraraka and Aizawa were aware of that) but the only reason she HAD Izuku's blood was because of a discreet little meet-up during the PLE that could have gone completely unnoticed, except Sero, Mineta, and Kaminari loudly said they saw Izuku interact with a naked girl. Shit! Well, now Izuku has to mention Camie to Beast, it would be out of character to NOT ask.

The Mall Encounter implicates Izuku so much, I'm actually getting scared. IS Izuku Midoriya a Stain follower?! Here is the monologue straight from the DUB: "What's the difference? Your goals, your villains... I don't understand you. I don't agree with the Hero Killer either, but I can understand him. Because the Hero Killer and I have something in common. We're inspired by All Might. That night, he even saved me from the flying nomu. He's a maniac, but he doesn't destroy things because it sounds fun. And when things were looking bad for him, he didn't abandon his mission... Like YOU did. Even if what he did was wrong, he held true to his beliefs. That's the difference."

Now, when Tsukauchi The Human Lie Detector took Izuku's statement after the Mall Encounter… because yes, he takes Izuku’s statement after every fucking crisis, people… even if Izuku repeated that monologue word for word, all Tsukauchi would hear was the confused a innocent hero-in-training.

If Nezu/Aizawa/All Might read back that statement, they could EASILY reinterpret it as an idealistic young pupil disappointed that he couldn't convince his master to spare the lives of all of the fake, unworthy heroes he'd profiled for him. (This serial killer killed 17 and injured 24, now. That's a whole lotta people not killed for a serial killer.) How EASY would it be to suspect that Ingenium was only alive because Izuku pleaded his case? How EASY would it be to think Izuku only sent the signal to Class A to get Iida away from his master ASAP before he had to choose between his mission and his new friends?

And just to wrap up in a nice, neat bow how much the Mall Encounter makes Izuku look like a Stain pupil, the fact that it happened at all looks like Shigaraki flaunting how vulnerable Izuku is with his master in jail. A rogue looking to recruit the quirk analyst prodigy he suspects was that asshole's Player 2. "I hate everyone. But the Hero Killer pisses me off the most.” Izuku tried to act as ignorant as possible. “Wasn’t he one of your guys?” But then he dropped character when Shigaraki dared to compare himself to his master. Shigaraki asked why Stain had more YouTube views and Izuku responded with a shockingly personal declaration on his respect for Stain and All Might.

… Seriously, I’ve gaslit myself into thinking Izuku really is Stain’s pupil...

At this point, I’m just working out the kinks on either an actual traitor AU or a reasonable doubt fugitive AU.

Conclusion

I love making characters suffer. I genuinely do. I can tolerate melodrama for the sake of characters suffering. I love OOC because I equally love Aizawa beating Izuku and Aizawa dating Izuku... If someone has a recommendation on both happening at the same time, I'd appreciate it.

But I just don’t understand the appeal of lazy writing or nonsensical characters WITHIN the context of the story being written. Every time someone says "Izuku sold information about us" all I can think about is that Shigaraki has never understood any of Class A's powers. Just write that Izuku wanted the League to kidnap Bakugou. Use the fucking anime.

[fenfyre]

Commission for @inarelashionshipwithmyself

Lance had been cranky the last few weeks. On it’s own that wasn’t too unusual, Lance got cranky about the weirdest things. About running out of the good face masks and having to use different ones that Allura gave him. About the mice not being in the mood to play with him when he wanted. About getting too little sleep. About getting too much sleep. About an alien he’d never seen before and never would again rejecting his embarrassing advances. But usually his mood brightened again as quickly as it had soured and this lasting slump was starting to worry them. Keith wasn’t the first who’d noticed it, he hardly ever was when it came to these things. But after Hunk had addressed Lance’s recent attitude and he’d started to pay attention, the signs couldn’t be ignored anymore. Usually Lance chattered endlessly during their meals and meetings, now he hardly ever said a word, leaving the group as soon as he could where he’d despised being alone for long periods before. He seemed tense during training sessions, focused but way too stubborn to really make anything out of it, the slightest mistake throwing him off for the whole day. Keith had caught him more than once on the training deck, using it late into the night, expression hardened and determined. Whenever Hunk or Shiro or, lately, even Allura tried to talk to him he’d put on a cheery mask and pretend everything was fine before retreating to the shooting range to utterly destroy every target the ship gave him. Keith didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to reach Lance if not even their most empathetic team members could. He hadn’t felt this helpless since he heard the reports about the Kerberos mission failing. Until the afternoon he was paired up with Lance for hand to hand combat training. “That’s – okay, that’s enough”, Lance spat, squirming helplessly where Keith had him pinned, one hand tapping a fluttery rhythm against the floor. “I yield! Fuck, I yield!” Keith furrowed his brows, not used to the other boy giving in this easily, but he still stepped back, offering Lance a hand to help him get up. Lance scoffed and slapped the hand away, pushing himself upright. Frown deepening Keith watched him. “You okay?”, he asked, wiping sweat from his forehead. They’d been sparring for a while already. Where Lance had been almost tenacious in the beginning the fire in his eyes had subsided with every failed try to overpower Keith, every time it was him tapping the mat instead. Now he leveled Keith with an icy glare but instead of getting back into stance he turned away. “Leave me alone”, he mumbled before he left the training deck. Shiro perked up from where he was pinning Hunk against the floor, the yellow paladin about to twist free from the hold and counter it when he also noticed Lance’s retreat. Allura stepped forward, hands on her hips as she called after him: “Lance! Lance, we’re not done, where do you think you’re...” “It’s okay!”, Hunk called, having used the distraction to free himself and scramble to his feet. “It’s okay, I’ll go get him!” “No”, Keith said, body moving before he could even think about it. “I’ll go, I’ll talk to him...” He could feel their eyes on him, skeptical and unsure. Could hear the breath Hunk took, the careful “Um, Keith buddy...” But he just shook his head, going for the doors. “I got this.” As expected he found Lance in his room, already changed halfway out of his armor, the leg pieces still clinging to his body. “I told you to leave me alone”, Lance mumbled, no emotion to be heard in his voice, but Keith still stepped further into the room, arms crossed and face determined. “Yeah”, he answered, taking a look at the helmet and armor pieces Lance had put on the table for now. “But I wanna know what your deal is. You’ve been … weird.” Lance huffed a dry laugh and shook his head. “I’ve been…? No. Nothing. No deal, everything’s just … peachy.” “Bullshit.” Keith shook his head. “You can tell Hunk and Shiro that. Because they want to … respect your privacy or whatever. But something’s wrong. I wanna know what.” Lance groaned, throwing another armor piece onto the table. “What, so you can feel even better about yourself? Just go away!” Keith huffed and leaned a hip against the desk, trying to catch Lance’s gaze but the blue paladin already turned away from him again. “Listen”, he began, not quite sure where this would lead but just going with it for now. “Just because you can’t beat me at hand to hand doesn’t mean...” “Hand to hand? What can I beat you at then?”, Lance spat, whirling around to finally meet Keith’s gaze and there it was again, that fire he’d seen at the beginning of the training session. “You’re the amazing pilot, the martial arts expert, the brave one everybody loves and wants to be like! What else is there, what else … what else can I contribute?” Keith frowned. “You … you want to be like me?” “Oh piss off!”, Lance cursed, turning away again with an exasperated huff. Slowly but surely Keith began to suspect he really wasn’t the right one for this job, that he was only making worse. Maybe he should retreat and send one of the others instead, to settle what he’d done wrong. “I’m … I’m not good at this”, he began, already setting up to excuse himself when he had an idea. “At uh … talking to people. When they’re upset.” “Oh really...” Lance’s voice was dripping with sarcasm but Keith pressed on. “Or just in general. I just can’t seem to … connect with others. I’m not good at that. You are.” Even though Lance’s back was turned to him Keith could see how he froze, head tilted a little. Listening. He took his chance and went on. “Remember when we were on that desert planet and neither Pidge nor me could convince the aliens to let us evacuate them? But then you came in and only needed two minutes with their leader to make them trust us?” Lance shook his head. “You were still wearing your helmets, that was rude to them.” “Yeah but we didn’t know! We never would have figured that out if you hadn’t!” Keith took a careful step forward, around Lance, to look at him again. Some of the tension had seeped out of the other boy’s shoulders and his expression wasn’t quite as hardened as before. “Yeah”, Lance mumbled. “You guys would’ve been lost without me.” “We would have been!”, Keith insisted, still not sure what he was doing, only that it seemed to work at least a little. “And … and that’s not the only thing! You’re … you’re a great shot. An incredible shot! There’s a reason your bayard is a rifle and mine is for close combat. You’re our long range guy, yeah? You don’t have to beat me at hand to hand when you can beat me in a shooting competition any day. And your bond with your lion…” That was apparently the wrong thing to say. Lance rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Yours is better. The things Red does for you, it’s crazy...” “Oh god!”, Keith groaned, throwing his arms out. “Stop comparing yourself to me! You’re your own person! And you bring your own skills to the team! We all need you and if you can’t see how much Blue adores you, you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought!” There was a pause, Lance squinting at him as if deciding to trust him or not. Keith stubbornly held the gaze. “You mean that, don’t you?”, Lance asked after a while, expression shifting from suspicious to thoughtful. He sucked his lower lip into his mouth, biting down on it. “In case you haven’t noticed”, Keith said, posture relaxing again. “I’m also a really bad liar.” Lance huffed another dry laugh at that but the creases around his eyes vanished as he relaxed. “You really are”, he smiled tentatively and Keith couldn’t even bring himself to be mad at him. Not when he just coaxed a smile out of Lance. The first one in weeks. Then Lance reached out to take his hand, squeezing it tightly, and Keith was way too surprised to react. The grip around his fingers was strong and warm, oddly pleasant. “Come with me”, Lance said, tugging him towards the door without a care in the world for his half dismantled armor. “What … where...” “Shooting range”, Lance answered, completely nonchalant with a little shrug. “Wanna beat your ass at something right now.” Keith snorted but let himself be dragged away. If that’s all it took to make Lance smile again he’d lose a hundred shooting competitions against him. [This fanfic was a commission! Check out how to commission me or consider buying me a Coffee if you liked this story!]

[awkwarddezzy]

It Will Always Just Be Me

Pairing: Dan x reader

Genre: romance, smut, angst, fluff (though it’s mostly angst)

Song: Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off by Panic! At the Disco [I’ll never get over how long this song title is]

TW: swearing (aka I lost count of how many times I used the word ‘fuck’)

Word count: 3,212

For @phanny-fics writing competition. This song has been a guilty pleasure of mine lately, and my mind screamed ‘FANFIC THIS.’ Cause you know, this is what happens when I turn to the emo trinity to keep my writing juices flowing. Also, on a random note, when I Googled the lyrics for this song, I literally just typed in ‘panic at the disco lying is’ because there was no way in hell I was gonna type in the entire song title in the search bar. 😅

When she shows up knocking at my door, I’m this close to slamming the door on her face. For an entire week, I didn’t receive a call, text, or any form of communication from her. Not only did she make me crave for her attention, but her ignorance made me feel pathetic. Here I am, pinning my heart for the girl of my dreams. Too bad I’m too stubborn to see that my dream girl is also my worst nightmare.

“What are you doing here?”

She glides into my flat, initially not answering my question. She’s wearing those pair of heels, the black “fuck me” heels that she purposefully teases me with. And her dress… damn it, she shouldn’t be wearing such alluring clothing in public.

“Why do you think I’m here?”

I lock the door. Thank god Phil is spending the entire day with PJ. I don’t need Phil to pity me again for having a weak resolve.

“Who is it this time?”

“What makes you think there’s a who?”

I laugh bitterly. Does she think I’m blind? “I know you, (Y/N). Who’s the poor sap this time?”

She pouts, dropping her purse on the floor. “His name doesn’t matter.”

“So there is a someone.”

“It’s none of your business.”

“It is if you’re just here to fuck me again,” I snap.

She tenses. Gotcha. She’s way too transparent.

“Stop talking.” She steps closer to me until the front of our bodies touch. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you later. For now-” she snakes her arm around my neck, “Let’s have some fun.”

I have to resist. This isn’t worth it. I’m only going to be left with disappointment again.

“Look at me, Dan.” Her thumb brushes along the corner of my mouth. “I’m sorry, okay? I’ve been busy-”

“Bullshit. If you were busy, you were busy finding another fuck buddy.” I try to put some distance between our bodies, though she won’t let me. Her arms stay around my neck and now her breasts are squished against my chest.

“It’s not like that.” Her voice trembles and vulnerability replaces her apparent lust. “You know I want to be with you. But we can’t be together. My parents don’t like you. Your fans will bash us.”

Shit, I hate when she pulls that card. She isn’t wrong. Her parents aren’t entirely accepting of the idea of us as anything more than friends. The Phan shippers and zealous fangirls will definitely direct flames toward her. As much as I loathe her behavior, I know she’s doing this to protect my reputation. She’s scared of her feelings for me, so she’s quick to say yes to any man who shows any interest to her, even when all those men only want her for her body.

I’m not that kind of man. I want all of her and so much more.

“It always boils down to that reason, huh?”

She nods. Her dropped guard disappears and her (E/C) irises are back to their lustful state. “Let’s forget all that for now. Please?”

I can’t say no to her.

I cup her cheeks and mash our lips together. She groans, tangling her fingers in my hair. She steps backward until we both fall on the sofa. Our mouths disconnects, and her tantalizing smile makes me forget my resistance.

Our clothes are discarded, left as a messy heap on the floor.

Her heels stay on. If she wears “fuck me” heels, she’s going to get fucked while wearing them.

When we’re naked, I tell her to bend over the arm of the sofa.

“We’re doing this my way,” I whisper huskily in her ear.

She obeys, and I bite my lip at the sight of her wet and ready for me. She yelps when my palm spanks her ass.

“This is for fucking someone behind my back.” Another slap. “This is for making me go seven days without you.” Slap. “Seven.” Slap. “Goddamn.” Slap. “Days.” Slap. “And this is just because I wanted to.”

“Stop teasing me,” she whines.

“I’ll tease you as much as I want to.” When we’re alone like this, I’m in control. She can have me wrapped around her finger again when this is over.

“Fuck me,” she murmurs.

“Beg for it.”

Her breath hitches. She knows this was coming. I won’t give her what she wants that easily.

“Please fuck me.”

“Where would you like me to fuck you?” I graze over her slit with my index finger. “Here?” I move the same finger to her anus. “Or here?”

“W-Whatever you want.”

“Ah.” I move my finger back to her slit. “So here. How would you like me to fuck you?” I use my thumb to rub circles on her clit. “Like this?” My index finger buries into her and I slowly move it in and out. “Or like this?”

“T-that works.”

“Or…” My unoccupied hand guides my cock to her pussy so the tip brushes along her clit. “Would you like me to use this?”

“I don’t care!” she wails. “Just please… please fuck me already.”

There. That’s how I want her: reduced to a needy mess.

So I give her what he wants. She screams in relief when I finally push my cock into her. I pour my week-long frustrations into her. My body thrusts rapidly in and out of her, my hands gripping her hips roughly that I’m certain there’ll be bruises forming by tomorrow morning. In the back of my mind, my gentle side is begging me to slow down, to savor the moment and remember that our time is limited. For her, the concept of forever doesn’t exist for us.

But I don’t care. I’ll take what I can get, even if what I get are scarce leftovers.

Curse words fall from her mouth constantly. Her arms struggle to hold herself up, until it gives out and the upper half of her body slumps atop the couch arm. I’m glad these walls are somewhat soundproof; god forbid the complaints from our neighbors who might think I’m murdering someone in here.

“That’s it,” I croon. “Let it out, (Y/N).”

“Shit… I’m gonna come.”

“Good girl. Come for me. Show me who’s mine.”

She shouts my name, her orgasm causing mine to follow a few seconds later. I drown in the sounds of our pleasure. This was worth waiting an entire week for. This was worth the tension when she waltzed into my home and was capable of shattering the barriers I put up around me.

“Whoa,” she breaths once we finish riding our highs. “I totally missed that.”

“Same here, sweetie.”

“Mmmm…” I pull out of her, moving to lie on the couch. She takes a minute to remove her heels. I’m tempted to spank her again; if she’s showing her backside to me like this on purpose, the joke is on her. I’ve already gotten what I wanted. I can wait another ignorant week.

“His name’s Gordon.” She kicks off her heels and lays down on top of me. She rests her head on my chest. “I met him while I was at a bar with (B/F/N).”

“And you slept with him.”

“Nope.”

“But you will.”

“Maybe, if I like him enough.”

“Have you kissed him?”

She lifts her head to look at me. The slight glimmer in her eyes confirms my question.

“We only kissed. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“I’m not.” Yeah I am. I have to know how much of an asshole he is right of the bat.

“I’m going on a real date with him tomorrow.” She caresses my cheek. “We had a good conversation when we met. If our date goes well… Dan, I think he could be the one.”

“You’re saying that and you barely know him.”

She sighs. “Yeah…but I’m crossing my fingers. Heartbreak is a bitch.”

Of course it is. But she wouldn’t have to keep experiencing heartbreak if she just picked me.

This is what we are. We’re more star-crossed than Romeo and Juliet. Our teen-like hearts, beating fast in a secluded flat, close to touch but unable to beat in sync.

˜:˜

Gordon is a dick. I don’t know the guy, but I know he is. Every man that (Y/N) has been with is. They’ll use her, trick her into thinking she’s the only apple to their eyes. It’s a lie, because they only see her as the bruised apple and there’s another woman out there who’s the ripest apple of their tree.

Phil doesn’t seem to think so. He thinks Gordon is different. It’s the first time that Phil has ever said that about her boyfriends. It worries me, because if Phil is right, Gordon isn’t an asshole and he’s falling in love with her in the pure way that I’m doing. He’s stealing my girl. I won’t swallow that fact lightly.

I deserve her. I deserve the love that she gives to other men one hundred percent. I deserve her at her best and worst. Not Gordon. Not a man who’s going to be another ex.

A few days pass. Then a week. A month. Three months. She barely comes to the flat. We haven’t had sex since she dropped by the flat to first tell me about Gordon. Thankfully, there aren’t long durations without receiving texts and calls from her anymore. We’ve reached a point where I can call her anytime and she’ll be likely to answer it.

However, it doesn’t remove the ache in my chest at the thought of (Y/N) and Gordon as a couple. The longer they’re together, the less optimism I have of (Y/N) and I as endgame. Phil still tells me to keep my hopes alive, though I’m beginning to truly give up this time around. What’s the point of waiting for a girl that can’t reciprocate my feelings?

Why am I still choosing to be single?

˜:˜

I try not to think about (Y/N) at the next YouTube party. I have a blast hanging out with Phil and our YouTube friends. I drink more than I normally do. Louise teases that the beast in me is finally released.

Oh Louise, if only she knew that there was already someone else who has seen my beastly side before.

I’m flat-out drunk before midnight. Phil calls someone to pick me up. He knows he should go home too so he could look after me, but I tell him to stay. I know he wants to. I’m not letting my drunkenness take away his night to have fun.

Despite my hazy mind, my tiny bit of soberness sees who took me home. She doesn’t talk during the entire ride and she doesn’t turn on the radio. The silence in her car brings peace to my brain. It’s lessening an urge to vomit.

She helps me walk into my flat. Or rather, stumble my way through. My urge to vomit returns and I immediately throw up in the loo as soon as we get inside. My brain is desperate for sleep, though my tired body wants me to stay awake. So I stumble back into my bedroom and collapse on my bed. Not too long later, she joins me.

“You shouldn’t have gotten drunk,” she scolds me, sitting down on the mattress.

“Didn’t want to turn down free drinks,” I mumble.

“You’ve done that before.”

“I regret doing that.”

She shakes her head in disappointment. “What’s gotten into you? You normally don’t drink yourself to this point.”

“Why do you think I got myself drunk? I think you know.”

“No, I don’t.”

“It’s because I love you, okay? I love you and I can’t have you and we’ve talked about this so many times already. But it’s still the same. You want love, just not with me. For my sake and all that other shit.”

“Dan-”

“I fucking hate you,” I spat. “I hate being in love with you. I’m sick of you telling me that you’re sacrificing our chance to be together to protect my reputation. But I’m fucking sacrificing shit too. You’re not even giving me a chance and I’m forced to just watch you get your heart broken all the damn time. I’m tired of it. I’m so, so, so tired of it.”

I close my eyes after my outburst. I don’t see nor hear her reaction. As I fall unconscious, I smile at the burden I’ve finally gotten out of my chest.

It feels better than all the orgasms I’ve had from her.

˜:˜

I wake up the next day with a massive headache. I feel like a boulder pounded through my skull repetitively and I haven’t died from it. The sweet release of death would’ve been so much better than to be conscious with this mental hell.

(Y/N) is nowhere in sight. There’s two Tylenol pills and a glass of water on my dresser. I don’t know if it’s Phil or (Y/N) who left it there.

I swallow the pills and drink the water. I wait for my hangover to subside. I stay in bed for nearly an additional hour before I can stand up with minimal pain in my head.

Phil is eating a sandwich in the kitchen when I exit my bedroom. He grins upon seeing me awake.

“Hey,” I grumble.

“Hey! You feeling better?”

“I’m feeling more shit than usual.”

Phil chuckles. “I’m not surprised.”

“Where’s (Y/N)?”

“She left a couple of hours ago. Said she wanted to stay, but she had something important to take care of.”

Ugh. Gordon is that important thing.

Phil gives me a hesitant gaze. “Ummm… (Y/N) texted me not too long ago.”

“What’d she say?”

“She broke up with Gordon.”

I freeze. Am I hearing this right?

“She texted you first, but you didn’t answer back. I told her you were still asleep. She said she’ll call back tonight.”

Fuck it. I’ll call her right now.

I dash to my room and grab my iPhone. There’s one unread text from her, though I ignore it and dial her number instead. I know what the text entails. What I need is to hear the news through her own mouth than words on a phone screen.

“Yo.”

“You really broke up with Gordon?”

“What, I don’t get a good afternoon?”

“Good afternoon, (Y/N). Now spill.”

She sighs. “Yes, Dan. I broke up with Gordon.”

“Why?”

“Do you not remember what you told me last night?”

I rack through my memories of last night. There was a party. I got drunk. (Y/N) drove me home. I said some things to her… wait.

I told her I love her.

I said “I love you” to (Y/N).

Fuck. My. Life. I wasn’t supposed to do that.

“Meet me outside your flat. I wanna talk to you face-to-face.”

“Uh… yeah. I’ll… see you.”

The surprise hits me more when the call ends. She knows how I feel for her. All this time, she only knew that I was interested in pursuing a relationship with her. Not that I love her. No, I intended to save those three words until we got through a first date.

Phil notices my shocked expression as I walk out my room. He’s done with his sandwich, and he beams, probably knowing what we talked about.

“(Y/N)’s coming over?”

I nod, still speechless.

“I’ll be in my room if you need me.” He winks. “Just don’t be too loud, eh?”

I scowl, sticking my tongue out. I’m going to talk to her, not fuck her senseless. I can save that for a later time.

“I’m happy for you, Dan. Go get your girl.”

My scowl switches to a grateful smile. It’s thanks to Phil’s advising that I’ve been able to rationally deal with my emotions toward (Y/N).

“She was always my girl,” I reply. “It just took her a lifetime to accept it.”

˜:˜

When (Y/N) arrives driving her (your favorite car), I open the car door and sit down on the shotgun seat. It would be more comfortable for us talk in my flat, but if we wind up arguing, it wouldn’t be fair for Phil to be forced to eavesdrop on it.

“Hi,” I greet.

“Hey.”

“So…”

“Last night made me think about a lot of things.” She unbuckles her seatbelt. “It was a lot to take in. I… I was ashamed. I knew you were hurt from all the dating failures I’ve had and me going to you because of it. But I never thought you’d be in love with me. I thought you only cared about me as a close friend. In all the relationships I’ve had, you’re the only one I’ve ever felt insecure about falling for. All the other guys, I didn’t mind if I got my heart broken. As long as I tried, hey, at least I know they’re not the one. With you, I was genuinely afraid I’d really lose you as a friend if we fell in love. Liking: I’m okay with that. Sex: I’ll roll with it. Love: I’d rather lose a limb than have my heart make that commitment. Gordon’s cool, but he isn’t you. He’s funny, he’s understanding, he’s hot as hell and a fantastic kisser. But I can’t love him. I can’t see myself saying yes if he proposed to me one day. If you proposed… I’d honestly say yes before you even asked ‘Will you marry me?’”

“(Y/N), are you saying you want to get hitched?”

She giggles. “You’re missing the point. I love you too, you dork. I broke up with Gordon because I realized I’m supposed to be with you. I don’t care what my parents and your friends will say. If I want to have Daniel Howell as my boyfriend, then I’ll let him be my boyfriend.”

“So you want to be my girlfriend?“

She grins, her head moving up and down excitedly. She moves her mouth to my ear. “I want the man who’s a freak on YouTube and in the sheets.”

I laugh, elated that my nightmare is over. I don’t have to keep us a secret to the public anymore. “Want me to prove that to you in here?”

She raises an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe.”

Her grin doesn’t falter as she drives her car elsewhere. She moves it at a more isolated location, and once she finishes parking, she pounces.

We kiss each other hungrily. We move to the passenger seat so we have more room. I inch her dress up and slide her panties down her legs. She pulls down my pants down to my feet. We groan in unison as I bury myself to the hilt inside her. My movements are slow, a first since sex became a factor in our lives. Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking her Clothes off by Panic at the Disco is playing on the radio, partially masking the sounds of the moans and groans escaping our lips. How fitting, except now my girl is officially my girlfriend.

We don’t fuck. We make love. We take our time, and after we reach our peaks, I hug my lover close.

We can dance to this beat for as long as she’ll have me.