#like for god's sake it's gotten to the point where kevin is not allowed like one good thing

[mcgnussen]

okay, here is a little rant incoming, so this is your warning to skip if you don’t want to hear strategy rants! 

i find it very peculiar that whenever haas puts mick on a risky strategy that will have greats awards if luck is with him, but it doesn’t work out, mick fans get extremely angry and tell haas to stop fucking up mick’s strategy. when they put mick on the safer strategy with a greater chance of paying off, they also get super mad just because luck is with kevin. like how does haas win? you cannot have both scenarios. when you take a risk, you have no idea if it will pay off or not. haas can never know, you can never know. 

i will say it again, kevin did almost 40 laps on mediums that were supposed to last 20 laps. have you any idea what an insane gamble that is? all the odds were that the mediums would die and kevin would be forced to take a late pit stop, which would have likely ruined his chance of points unless he pulled off some really sensational overtakes in a short time. the medium tyres could even have exploded on him, it could have been total game over. plus, the only reason why kevin even managed to make the tyres last that long was because he nursed them aka he slowed down to manage them. he said so himself in an interview. mick was not slowing down, so he would have never managed to get mediums to the end.

but that’s besides the point, you cannot criticise haas when they try something unlikely but with a great reward with your driver, but then also be angry your driver is not on the same insane, against-the-odds strategy as his teammate just because it worked out this time. 

should haas have put mediums on mick? yes. we can all agree that would have been the better option, but choosing hards was not the end of the world and there was a plan behind it. it meant that mick would have had better grip when everyone around him on mediums started suffering towards the end of the race. but with a damaged car, there was no chance of anything anyway.

EDIT: mick had no more mediums. problem solved. that’s why haas did not pit him for mediums.

[waywardrose13]

Without Me

Summary: He craved comfort. She craved his love. Without her, he’s broken. But with him, she already is. 

Warnings: Angst, language, unrequited love, MoC!Dean, sexual situations, dub-con, heartbreak

Rating: Mature

A/N: @spnsongchallengebingo- Square used- “Without Me” by Halsey // @spnonewordbingo- Square used- Free Space (Word= Unrequited) 

My Masterlist

Found you when your heart was broke

I filled your cup until it overflowed

Took it so far to keep you close

I was afraid to leave you on your own

It gets to a point where you realize what you put into a relationship might not be enough. You can’t force feelings onto another person, no matter how much you wish you could. It hurts to no end, knowing that the person you love with all of your heart simply doesn’t love you back.

Dean was your everything. There was nothing that he could do that could push you away. You were there through all the heartbreak and sorrow, through the pain.

When John had died, Dean was an absolute wreck. He had found comfort in your arms, and your bed. He would seek solace and warmth within you, and from your sweet voice. You were so desperately in love with him, you never noticed how he was simply using your kind persona as a way to cope.

I said I'd catch you if you fall

And if they laugh, then fuck 'em all

And then I got you off your knees

Put you right back on your feet

Just so you can take advantage of me

Dean had found you, dejected and completely burnt out. You had taken him into your small apartment, given him your bed and a drink. He had a few wounds to be tended to, and you gently cleaned and bandaged them.

He told you about the apocalypse, about Sam being possessed by the devil himself and diving head first into the cage in hell. He had cried to you that night, and your heart broke for him.

For the next month, he was with you. Telling you he never should have left, that he missed you with all his heart. He stayed with you through those two weeks, warming your bed and your heart. You opened yourself up to him again, letting yourself feel the love for the green eyed hunter after trying to bury it after he left you not three months after his father died.

Tell me how's it feel sittin' up there

Feeling so high but too far away to hold me

You know I'm the one who put you up there

Name in the sky

Does it ever get lonely?

But he left again. For another woman, no less. He explained the promise he made to Sam, and after weeks of caring for him and loving him like no other, he up and left you. Again.

It took a while to feel the slightest bit better. Your heart had once again shattered in your chest, from the same man you had loved forever. And all you could think about was how much you gave him, and how he threw it back into your face for another.

Thinking you could live without me

Thinking you could live without me

Baby, I'm the one who put you up there

I don't know why

Thinking you could live without me

Two years later, he found you again, with Sam by his side. Just seeing him brought back so many unwanted memories of the pain you had endured. But with one smile and touch, you were melting, and was easily coaxed to live with them in their newfound “bunker.”

You tried to keep your distance from Dean. You had found out through Sam that Lisa was out of the picture, and had been for a little while. You couldn’t help but feel a little happy about that, thinking that maybe, just maybe, you had another chance.

Dean would flirt with you, like he always did. Deep down you hoped there was an underlying meaning to the flirting, but with every random woman he took to bed, the hope was chipped down that much more. 

And then the prophet had been found, the tablets soon after, and the trials made an entrance into you and the Winchester’s lives. With the trials came Ezekiel, who turned out to be an ostracized angel, Gadreel. After he killed Kevin, Dean spiraled again, and his emerald eyes turned back to you.

Live without me

Baby, I'm the one who put you up there

I don't know why

You tried so hard to resist him. But as soon as his lips touched your neck, the butterfly touch moving up to your jaw, you were lost. You were picking him back up again, holding him through the nightmares and taking away the one-too-many bottles of whiskey. You were back right where you started, and you hated how easily you fell back under his spell.

But you couldn’t help it. You loved the man with everything you had. You had never loved anyone else in your entire life, and you allowed yourself to feel him, allowed yourself to feel what it would be like if he was yours.

You didn’t know if he felt the way you did. You hoped to God he did. Because the latter would be too painful to bare.

But like every other time, he healed, and he left. Sam was back, and all was right in rain again, with hunts and women he’d find in bars. And once again, you were left to pick up your own pieces, because it was just another sickening jab to the heart. You knew the love was unrequited, yet you still did this to yourself. 

Gave love 'bout a hundred tries

Just running from the demons in your mind

Then I took yours and made 'em mine

I didn't notice 'cause my love was blind

Charlie was dead. Your best friend was gone.

You sat in the library, nursing a bottle of whisky. Sam was God knows where, and Dean was down the table from you, in a very similar position.

Seeing the pain on his face when you found her was absolutely heartbreaking. You didn’t have much time to ponder on it though, not when you were sprinting across the bathroom, slipping in the blood to grasp at the redhead and try to find something that told you she was alive.

It didn’t happen, of course. Watching her body burn on that pyre was one of the hardest things you’d ever done. Ignoring the oldest Winchester’s longing looks was another.

“Y/N…” Dean rasped, a tear slipping down his cheek.

“No,” you whispered, knowing where this was going. You clenched your hands around the bottle as Dean got up, coming to sit beside you. His hand moved to brush your hair from your shoulder, chin coming to rest on the juncture between it and your neck. His lips softly brushed against your skin, his arms coming to encircle your waist.

“Please,” he murmured. “I… I need you. You’re always here for me when I need you. And… and I need you. I feel like I’m losing my mind, with this damn thing on my arm.” Your eyes flickered to the mark of Cain for a moment, before focusing on the bottle again. “And… and you always make me feel better. I’ve realized it now. You’re the one, the one I need. You get me through it all and… now I need you again.”

“No,” you said, jerking away from him. You stood up, taking a few steps back from him, tears slipping down your cheeks. “No, Dean.”

“What?” He asked, standing up as well. He swallowed thickly, tilting his head.

“I’ve given you everything, ever since John died. I have been there… through everything. I’ve nursed you back to health on the the brink of death, both physically and emotionally. I have picked up the broken pieces of Dean Winchester for years… and all I’ve gotten back is a broken heart.” You sniffled, shrugging. “I thought that… that maybe you liked me back. I gave you everything… to the point that I had become so tired, I was ill. I poured myself into you, Dean. Because… because the truth is, I love you.” He sucked in a breath, making your stomach drop. “And a part of me thought that maybe you did too for a while. But, thinking logically, I’ve realized wrong. I always wished that was the case. God, you have no idea how much I prayed.” You laughed without humor, wiping your eyes and looking away from him. “But I know you can’t force feelings on other people. I know that. And I know that you don’t feel the same way. I know I’m just a friend, one you come to when you need help. And I get that, I do. But it’s too painful, Dean. And trust me, I want to. Oh god, do I want to. But, I… I just can’t. For the sake of my heart, Dean. I can’t.”

Said I'd catch you if you fall

And if they laugh, then fuck 'em all

And then I got you off your knees

Put you right back on your feet

Just so you can take advantage of me

“Y/N I… I’m sorry,” he said.

“I just… I don’t think you realize how much you hurt me. You promised me things that made me believe you loved me back. You treated me in a way that made me feel… great, like I was actually loved. But everytime, without fail, you’d leave. And whereas I picked you up off the ground, I helped fix you back up, I was left alone to do that. And it was hard. And it fucking hurt, Dean.” You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment. “God, it hurt so bad. Because everytime you came back, I knew what would happen. But I let myself fall back into your arms and-and I gave you everything I had. Because I fucking love you, so much. And that’s what you needed. You needed me. So I gave me. But I’m tired, Dean, and I just can’t do it to myself again. I can’t. It’ll fucking kill me.”

“You’re my best friend, Y/N,” Dean said quietly. His eyes were glassy, and he cleared his throat before looking away. “But I… I just don’t feel that way.”

You sighed, wiping furiously at your eyes. “Then why?! Why, all those times, did you lead me to believe you did? And then just leave? Why would you do that?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “But somehow, you always help me. You’re my rock.”

“I can’t, Dean. I just can’t.” You turned away from him, rushing away from the library and towards your room, tears streaming down your face. With the pounding in your head and the ache in your heart, you slammed the door shut, sinking to the floor as sobs echoed off the walls.

You were completely and utterly lost.

Tell me how's it feel sittin' up there

Feeling so high but too far away to hold me

You know I'm the one who put you up there

Name in the sky

Does it ever get lonely?

Months went by of trying to distance yourself. You’d fallen into a steady routine that allowed you the space between Dean, just enough so he wouldn’t try to talk to you. You couldn’t handle looking at him after he confessed that he didn’t have feelings for you, that he simply needed you to get through his own pain.

You hoped he didn’t realize just how it sounded. That what he said pained you more than anything. More than him leaving you after you picked up his pieces for another woman.

You kept your head held high around him, trying not to let the pain be seen. He seemed to be getting worse, the mark on his arm fueling a rage that had been inside him for a very long time. It scared you, the aggression that he held. The guilt that plagued his head making him go crazy. He tried to douse it with alcohol, but it only seemed to make it worse.

Thinking you could live without me

Thinking you could live without me

Baby, I'm the one who put you up there

I don't know why

Until one night. He slipped silently into your room, padding softly across the room to your bed. You were still awake, insomnia keeping you up most nights. You felt him lift the covers, felt the bed dip from his weight as he crawled in next to you. You shivered as he pressed himself against your back, arm curling around your waist, face nuzzling into your neck as he sighed.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. A tear slipped from your cheek. You squeezed your eyes shut, knowing you shouldn’t have let him come crawling back. But you could practically feel the buzzing energy of him. You could smell him for fucks sake, and his mere presence intoxicated you.

You rolled over, meeting his gaze. The two of you looked at each other silently for a moment, before he dipped down, pressing his lips to yours.

You knew you’d end up beating yourself up for this. You knew what he was doing. You knew he needed comfort, you knew he needed something to help with the guilt and the dread and the pain running through his head 24/7. It’s what he needed for years. Because no matter how much he tried to bury it, he needed you to put him back together.

And you let him.

You let his hands roam over your bare skin, let him settle between your legs. You arched your back up into him as he buried himself into you, seeking the comfort and love he desperately craved.

His heart craved one thing, and the mark craved another.

He had been rough with you only one time before, and it had been planned between the two of you. But he shifted unexpectedly.

He had pulled out roughly, flipping you onto your stomach and taking you from behind, his hands gripping and squeezing harshly, and when his forearm wrapped around your throat, pulling you up against his chest to grip your throat, you finally realized how much the mark had changed him.

With your air supply cut off, everything was more intense, but you began to panic a bit as spots dotted your vision, and he wasn’t relenting his brutal pace. He simply took what he needed, pushing you past your limits in an attempt to rid himself of the anger and itch to kill.

When he finally came, his fingers loosened on your throat, and you took gulping breaths, panting as he pulled out and collapsed next to you on his back. You turned away from him, hands raising to your bruising throat, coughing a few times before slipping from the bed, leaning back against it.

He had never hurt you before, had never tried anything in bed without asking you. And you were scared. You let yourself be lured back into his arms and he hurt you.

His arms snaked under your arms, making you jump. He lifted you effortlessly back onto the bed and beside him, his arms wrapping around your waist tightly, face pressing into the side of your neck.

“Need you,” he murmured sleepily, letting out a slow breath. You swallowed thickly, closing your eyes.

“You got me, Dean,” you said, not truly meaning the words.

You just hoped you had the strength to walk away for good.

Thinking you could live without me

Live without me

Baby, I'm the one who put you up there

I don't know why, yeah

You woke the next morning to an empty bed. His clothes had been picked up, sheets cold. You laid on your back, hand coming to rest against the bridge of your nose as the night before rushed into your head. You knew you needed to go. You knew he didn’t love you, he just needed you.

So you got up, took a quick shower, and packed. You couldn’t keep doing this to yourself, and you were scared. There were bruises on your throat, fingerprints on your hips, and you were sore. More sore than anytime you slept with Dean. He had changed. The Mark had changed him for the worst, but even without the Mark, your heart just simply wasn't strong enough.

You don't have to say just what you did

I already know 

I had to go and find out from them

So tell me how's it feel

“Where are you going?” A voice asked from behind you. You froze, swallowing thickly.

Dean.

“I’m leaving,” you said, turning to face him. His eyes flickered to your throat, eyes widening.

“Oh my- Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he said, taking a few steps towards you. “I didn’t mean to… I lost control and I-”

“Don’t,” you said quietly. He shut his mouth, looking down. “Even if you hadn’t… I would’ve left anyway.”

“Why?” He asked.

“What do you mean ‘why?’” You asked, shaking your head. “I can’t live here with you when I know that you don’t love me back, but are willing to hurt me in ways you can’t imagine just to feel better.”

“Y/N, I… that’s not-”

“Save it, Dean,” you said. “You’ve been doing this for years. I always notice when you’re hurting. And I am always there for you. I’m always there to-to save you and help you. But what about me? You don’t ever notice when I’m in pain. You never ask if I’m okay. You expect me to save you but you don’t return it. I’m burnt out, Dean!”

“Please don’t go,” Dean said. “I need you.”

“Jesus Christ.” You rolled your eyes, tears burning them. You laughed without humor, blinking a few times. “I know you do, Dean! But has it ever occured to you that maybe I need you? I love you so fucking much. But this is hurting me.”

Tell me how's it feel sittin' up there

Feeling so high but too far away to hold me

You know I'm the one who put you up there

Name in the sky

Does it ever get lonely?

“Please,” he said.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I’ve always been the one to pick you up when you fall. But I’ve been hurt one too many times. And I can’t do it anymore.” You turned back towards the stairs, taking a few steps up. “I hope you find a way to save yourself, Dean. Because I can’t do it anymore.”

With those last words hanging in the air, you rushed up the stairs and out the door, tears streaming down your face as you left the man you loved with all your heart; leaving the one that also broke it.

Thinking you could live without me

Thinking you could live without me

Baby, I'm the one who put you up there

I don't know why

Enjoyed the story? Let me know here! Feedback is loved and greatly appreciated! Wanna get tagged in future stuff? Fill out this form! Wanna request something? Read the guidelines and send me an ask!

Forever Lovelies:

@mogaruke

@kittyk26

@waywardsepticeye

@luciferslucille

@cookiecakeslive

@supernatural-strangerthings-1980

@sunnysaysbookreviews

@nyxveracity

@raining-murder

@just-a-supernatural-sister

@thehufflepuffblog

@pisces-cutie

@waywardnerd67

@waywardbaby

@alexwinchester23

@jotink78

@mersuperwholocked-lowlife

@sandlee44

@ain-t-bovvered

@assassinofmadness

@supernatural-crazed-girl

@gh0stgurl

@theenigmaticwordsmith

@docharleythegeekqueen

@choosemyname

@1800-fandoms

@spnskinnyballs

@kcrews74

@adoptdontshoppets

@gh0stgurl

@x-waywardaf-x

@jarpadandjensenaremyheroes

@natura1phenomenon

@deanandsamsbitch

@heyitscam99

@thewinchesterchronicles

@thegirlsadventuresinwonderland

@shortbty14

@frozenhuntress67

@koizorahana

Jensen/Dean beans:

@dean-winchesters-bacon

@polina-93

@mirandaaustin93

@akshi8278

@sasquatch5

@adoptdontshoppets

@thisismysecrethappyplace

@fangirl-forevers-world

@rawritsmolly

@frozenhuntress67

@ssaaraw

@reginaphalange2403

@x-waywardaf-x

@jessieray98

@thewinchesterchronicles

@cookiechipdough

@tryn25

@yesfictionalboysarebetter

@angelessquirrel

@ackleholic-hunter

@weepingwillowphoenix

@analisespn

[mostlysignssomeportents]

#5yrsago A conversation with Terry Pratchett, author of The Carpet People

Cory Doctorow and the famed author discuss building worlds, the legitimacy of authority, and the future.

Cory:  You took a bunch of runs at building a world where a million stories could unfold—The Carpet People, Truckers, and, finally, Discworld. Is Discworld’s near-total untethering from our world the secret of its staying power?

Terry:  It isn’t our world, but on the other hand it is very much like our world. Discworld takes something from this world all the time, shows you bits of the familiar world in new light by putting them into Discworld. Is that staying power? You tell me.

Cory:  What’s the secret to Discworld’s unplumbable depths, and is there something a big world lacks when compared to one that’s smaller (in more than one way), like the Carpet?

Terry:  We know about Earth; we know an awful lot about the solar system. When you do Discworld, you, the writer, can more or less change anything if you want to, if you can make it fit. It means you’re god, and that’s a great responsibility.

As a writer, you can take bits of the universe and put it in your own new universe. Working in Discworld, you use the word sandwich, and you think: Can I do this? Now I’ve got to have a reason why a sandwich is a sandwich—in our world, it was named after the man associated with its invention, the Earl of Sandwich. Can you have your own universe and still have sandwiches? You have to do it all yourself and decide if you need to open the door into our reality at the same time.

Once Discworld started moving, as it were, it started moving almost of its own volition, because I would write a Discworld novel, and that novel required that such and such should be available, or whatever, and that means that the next time, that’s real in Discworld and the thing grows. And I must say it grows to be rather bigger than a carpet—but with care, it can have just about anything in it.

I’m finishing up Raising Steam, in which the railroad comes to Ankh-Morpork, and an awful lot of things have to be made and discovered until you get to the top of that pyramid. You can’t have Vaseline until someone’s invented something else. You have to create and understand a lot of things before you can move on. And so, since I work on Discworld almost all the time, it grows because I need it to.

Cory:  Do you think that there’s any way you could have kept us in the Carpet for anything like the number of books that we’ve gotten from Discworld?

Terry:  I was about to say “No,” but right now I wonder. . . . If the idea had taken, I don’t know. I really don’t. But how would it be? It would be almost a kind of . . . People in the Carpet are more or less tribal. What would happen if I . . . You’ve got me thinking!

Cory:  Contrariwise, I feel like Dodger could have been the start of its own saga, about any number of characters from Dickensian England—do you think the world of Seven Dials has enough material to fuel a Pratchett engine through quite so many books?

Terry:  The answer is yes. Because it’s all there. The people Dodger meets are real, the places he goes are real, and all I have to do is put in that little touch of fantasy, i.e., Dodger himself. Queen Victoria was real, though it’s hard to believe—and she’s free; you don’t have to pay to use her. There’s a whole lot of people that Dodger could have met. I’m pretty certain he’s going to meet Darwin or his grandfather (more likely) at some point.

If I run with it, no limitations, I could keep it going, I think. I know a lot of the stuff. I know how they talk, I know the history. It doesn’t really matter if I put a bit of fantasy in to make the pie rise. You can go into the world of “What if?”

Cory:  So much of your work is about the legitimacy of authority. You write a lot of feudal scenarios, but you also seem like a fellow with a lot of sympathy for (and suspicion of!) majority rule. The witches gain authority through cunning and compassion (Nanny Ogg), through knowledge and force of will (Granny Weatherwax). Kings rule by divine right and compassion for the land; Vetenari, out of the practical fact of his ability to control the city’s factions. The Carpet People is shot through with themes of who should rule and why. Where does legitimate authority spring from?

Terry:  The people! The only trouble is the people can be a bit stupid—I know that; I’m one of the people, and I’m quite stupid.

Lord Vetinari is that wonderful thing: a sensible ruler—that’s why he’s so popular. Everyone grumbles about him, but no one wants to chance what it would be like if he wasn’t there. I like Vetinari. I don’t mind authority, but not authoritarian authority. After all, the bus driver is allowed to be the boss of the bus. But if he’s bad at driving, he’s not going to be a bus driver anymore.

Now, an interesting sideline on this is the question of the writer’s position is vis-à-vis authority.

A journalist looks at authority as a target as a matter of course. You don’t actually have to fire, but you see it as a target. Since I am tainted as a journalist, I can’t separate that out from being a novelist, and my personal view is that you look askance (at the least) at authority. Authority must be challenged at every step. You challenge authority all the time to keep it on its toes. Vetinari works because there aren’t enough people who think he’s doing a bad job; they’re all factions, in any case. So he balances the world. It’s not everyone being happy, but rather not too many of them being unhappy.

Now you, Cory, seem like a fellow with a lot to say about authority yourself. Where would you say legitimate authority springs from?

Cory:  This is a question I’ve put a lot of thought into as well. I think that just authority arises from systems that fail gracefully. That is to say, the important thing isn’t what happens when the ruler does something that you agree with—the important bit is what happens when she does something stupid and terrible.

I am far more interested in graceful failure than blazing success. If you select a leader by a means that contains robust oversight, a meaningful recall mechanism, and recourse to alternatives (an independent judiciary, say) in the event of substantial wrongdoing, the authority is legitimate, because if things were going badly off the rails, you could replace her.

This is something that worries me about Lord Vetenari. He is, like all of us, imperfect. Lacking any checks on his authority (apart from civic uprising), he is likely to fail badly, even though he succeeds brilliantly.

All that said (and to your question below): the *reason* to have authority is to simplify the task of getting on together. But technology lowers coordination costs and so undermines the case for governance in some instances. I generally refuse to predict the future (on the grounds that SF writers who dabble in futurism are like drug dealers who sample the product—unlikely to come to a good end). But when pressed, I say, “To imagine the future, imagine the cost of coordination trending towards zero in more and more domains. Now we make encyclopedias and operating systems the way we used to organise bake sales. What if we could build skyscrapers that way? Airplanes? Air traffic control systems?

The Carpet People concerns itself with many questions of infrastructure and public works—another theme that has featured in many of the most enjoyable Discworld novels, especially Going Postal/Making Money. Ultimately, it comes down to the builders, the wreckers, and the free spirits. Now that we’ve arrived at a time of deep austerity, what do you think the future of infrastructure is?

Terry:  To crack and fall away, I sometimes think. From what I see around me, it’s people doing it for themselves. We know the government is there, but we know they have no real power to do anything but mess things up, so you do workarounds.

On the matter of builders, wreckers, and free spirits, I’d say that Tiffany Aching [beginning with The Wee Free Men] is a builder. Moist von Lipwig [beginning with Going Postal] is a free spirit, but also a builder—I think people can go in and out of sequence. My dad was a mechanic; maybe my interest in builders starts there. You made your own catapult. You made your own crystal receiver. He encouraged in me that kind of thing. Even if it was dangerous, he took the view that I ought to be clever enough to know what I was doing.

My parents were practical people. That’s the word that is missing here: practical about just about everything. The ground state of being of practicality. Sometimes things need tearing down—and that might be, as it were, the gates of the city. But if we talk without metaphors, I would say that building is best. Because it is inherently useful.

And you, Cory? Do you want to make the case for wreckers?

Cory:  Never wrecking for its own sake. But disruption, yes, I’ll make that case. There is no virtue in the fact that all of us use toilets, but only some of us clean them. If we invented a machine tomorrow that obviated toilet scrubbing, that would be an unalloyed good, even though it also obviated the work of toilet scrubbers.

That isn’t to say that a just or caring society should cast aside the toilet scrubbers. The Luddite fight is miscast as a fight against technology, but it’s not—the Luddites smashed looms over a difference of how to apportion the dividends from automation, not because they objected to automation itself.

Kevin Kelly has a marvellous “robotics curve” that goes:

1) A robot/computer cannot possibly do what I do. 2) OK, it can do a lot, but it can’t do everything I do. 3) OK, it can do everything I do, except it needs me when it breaks down, which is often. 4) OK, it operates without failure, but I need to train it for new tasks. 5) Whew, that was a job that no human was meant to do, but what about me? 6) My new job is more fun and pays more now that robots/computers are doing my old job. 7) I am so glad a robot cannot possibly do what I do.

I’m not so sure about #6: we seem to be perfecting a system that only provides a living to financiers who invest in robots. This won’t work (if the bankers have all the money, no one can buy the things the robots make). We need a system that distributes automation’s dividends or we’ll end up with nothing at all.

One thing I’ve always enjoyed about your books with feudal settings is that it seems you get something like the correct ratio of vassals to lords. I always get a sense that for every ermine-trimmed guild boss in Ankh-Morpork, there are a thousand potato farmers in a shack in a field somewhere. So much of fantasy seems very top-heavy—too many knights, not enough serfs. Do you consciously think about political and economic considerations when you’re devising a world?

Terry:  I’ve never been at home with lords and ladies, kings, and rubbish like that, because it’s not so much fun. Take a protagonist from the bottom of the heap, and in the same way it’s good to have a female protagonist, as she’s got it all to play for. Whereas people in high places, all they can do is, well . . . I don’t know, actually: I’ve never been that high. If you have the underdog in front of you, that means you’re going to have fun, because what the underdog is going to want to do is be the upper dog or be no dog at all. And I’ve never felt the need to have lords and ladies as my champions, as it were.

In Ankh-Morpork there are notables, some of whom are stupid, and some of whom are useful and likeable, but it’s a mercantile place. It’s money that matters. And where do I get that from . . . ?

Cory:  Damon Knight once told me that he thought that no matter how good a writer you are, you probably won’t have anything much to say until you’re about twenty-six (I was twenty at the time and he was my writing teacher, at Clarion—ouch!). You’ve written about collaborating with your younger self for the reissue of The Carpet People. Do you feel like seventeen-year-old Terry had much to say?

Terry:  That’s the best question you’ve asked all day!

I think the he had a go, and it wasn’t bad. And then he was clever enough to read a hell of a lot of books and every bound volume of Punch. But when I was younger, I didn’t have the anger. I think you have to have the anger. It gives an outlook. And a place from which to stand. When you get out of the teens, well out of the teens, you begin to have some kind of understanding, you’ve met so many people, heard so many things, all the bits that growing up means. And out of that lot comes wisdom—it might not be very good wisdom to start with, but it will be a certain kind of wisdom. It leads to better books.

The Tiffany Aching series is what I would most like to be remembered for, and I couldn’t have written Tiffany Aching when I was seventeen. I just wouldn’t have had the tools.

But the question remains: As a writer of fantasy, can I be a proper writer? I don’t do literature, I do writing—you get paid for writing, for literature you just get plaques to put on the wall. I never really bother about it. I don’t think anyone in the genre does. It doesn’t really matter; it’s what you’re doing: you’re working. Writing happens; it’s what I do. I’m here; I do it. I like doing it. I like getting paid for it. I like the fun.

Being an author is not as much a job: it’s a life.

Thank you, Cory. It’s been fun.

Cory:  “Being an author is not as much a job: it’s a life.”

Preach, brother!

It’s been fun for me, too. You certainly have your share of plaques on the wall and a richly deserved sword made of genuine sky-metal, but as a reader of your works, the thing that matters most to me is the books, for which I am heartily grateful.

https://boingboing.net/2013/11/05/a-conversation-with-terry-prat.html

[ourdreamsrealized]

Chapter Three: To Love a King

Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3

A/N: Wow…This was a long one, and I apologize for how much time it took me to get this out. School was very busy, and then once I had the time to work on this, I was experiencing writer’s block. It ended up being 16 and a ½ pages and 6625 words. I actually am quite proud of this chapter, and it will probably be the longest chapter in this series. I don’t think it’s the best I’ve written, but I am happy with it to post it here. I hope to have the next chapter for you guys sometime next week. 

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Thor Odinson (God of Thunder) x Reader

Synopsis: When you meet Thor for the first time, he’s a happy-go-lucky hero in need of your help, but as more chance meetings happen and a relationship begins to blossom between the two of you, you begin to realize that there is a lot more to this amazing man than meets the eye.

Inspired by @champion-ofthe-sun‘s post: { x }.

Rated: R

Warnings: Sexual Themes, Mild Gore, Triggers (Such as War) & Language

“…and Mr. Lee in room 130 has been having some bowel issues. I got him up to the bathroom a few times, but I’m worried about how loose his stools are.”

You considered the nurse’s words, nodding your head as you looked over his chart. “Alright…I’ll have a stool culture ordered again. If it smells as bad as you’re suggesting, I want to make sure he doesn’t have C diff.” You shook your head with a sigh, handing her the manila folder and leaning back in the chair. “Until then, just as a precautionary measure, I want everyone wearing gloves when entering that room. I can’t put him on full contact precautions without a confirmed diagnosis.”

“Makes sense,” the nurse, Victoria, said, getting up from her chair. “Anything else?”

“No.” You chewed on your bottom lip, crossing your legs as you went over a few things in your mind.

“Well, then, get going. Don’t you have a date with Georgina’s son tonight?” Victoria asked, putting away Mr. Lee’s chart and pulling out another one from the cart.

“I do…” You got to your feet, placing your pen in your lab coat pocket. “It’s our third date, actually.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You shrugged your shoulders, lifting your arms from your sides for a moment before letting them fall back to place.

Victoria fixed you with one of the stares she usually reserved for a client or family member that was feeding her bullshit. A light, partially penciled brow was arched as she pursed her lips. “Liar. At this stage in the game, you’d be floating on air.”

“And who says I’m not?” you asked, coming to stand beside her, arms crossed over your chest.

“I do. I can tell just by looking at you that you’re not crazy about him, just like you weren’t crazy about Jeremy or Kevin or Peter or…”

“Okay. Okay.” You stopped her by lifting up a hand. You didn’t need everyone on the floor to know your history. “What’s your point?”

“Don’t lead the poor guy on, and take some time off dating. It’s clear you’re not over something or someone in your past.”

“You would have made a much better psych nurse. You know that, Victoria?” A chuckle escaped your lips as you turned your back on her and made your way towards the break room. You punched in the code, your left five digits wrapped around the door handle.

“Yes, but I like where I am now.”

“Oh? And why’s that?” You glanced over at her, using your foot to keep the heavy door open.

“Because you’re my boss.” She winked at you before heading over to one of her assigned patient rooms.

You grinned stupidly at her comment, and your steps became lighter as you grabbed your work bag and jacket before heading out of the unit and down to the lobby. Once out in the late afternoon air, you relaxed some. It had been a long day, and, honestly, the last thing you wanted to do was go on another date with a guy you knew you weren’t ever going to be serious about.

Such a shame, too. He was basically the perfect package: good-looking, smart, a gentleman, looking to settle down, makes decent money, has future plans…

But he’s not Thor.

You mentally scolded yourself for that comment because you really shouldn’t have been comparing a mortal man who worked with a banking company to an Avenger/god. Plus, you hardly knew Thor. You met him only twice before, so your feelings for him were completely founded in physical attraction.

It was superficial, so why hadn’t you gotten over him yet? It’s been two years, for heaven’s sake!

It must have been the thousandth sigh that left your lips that day, but this one didn’t help you any. Maybe Victoria was right…Maybe you should step out of the dating scene for a while, just until you moved on.

You pulled out your phone, unlocked it, and found Nick’s contact information. You called his cell number, placing your smartphone to your ear as you descended the stairs outside the hospital building to the sidewalk.

“Hello?” Came out in a friendly baritone two rings later.

“Nick?”

“Yes?”

“Hi. This is Y/N.” God, this was really hard. Always was, and you were pretty sure it would never get easier. “Listen, about our date tonight…”

“You want to cancel.”

His voice was laden with disappointment, and, in that moment, you wished you still didn’t carry a torch for Thor. You could have seen a future with Nick; if you liked him as much as he liked you, the two of you probably would have gone the distance.

“Yeah…I’m really sorry. I just am not in the right state of mind for anything serious right now…” you scoffed, waving down a taxi. “I really wish I was.”

“…I do, too. But, if you ever do feel you’re ready for something more, you have my number.”

“You’d be the first guy I’d call.” You tried offering some comfort with that statement because, really, Nick deserved it. He had been nothing but sweet to you.

His chuckle was half-hearted, but he genuinely thanked you anyway before you both bid each other goodbye and hung up.

You closed the door of the yellow cab, telling the driver your home address before sitting back against the seat. You looked from your phone to the city outside your window. A particular tower caught your attention, one you had spent a lot of time in just a few years ago. It was the last place you saw Thor, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he was up to now.

The Avengers was on its way to destruction; the cracks were plain to see even during the events of Sokovia. Tony and Steve never saw eye-to-eye, and since no one really took an official leadership position after S.H.I.E.L.D. left the picture, the two most likely in the group were constantly butting heads while the rest of the members watched on, picking their own sides. Because of the drama and without a solid organization like S.H.I.E.L.D. to be your employer, you decided it was time to move on.

Of course, you only moved passed your time with the Avengers. Not with Thor. Perhaps, if you had had the chance to say goodbye, things would be different now.

Dwelling on the possibilities and what ifs made you choke up, so you forced yourself to think of less heavy things, such as dinner plans for this evening now that you weren’t going out and the list of things you had to do this coming weekend. Groceries, laundry, bills…The menial tasks.

Occupied by such things, transit time sped by, and before you knew it, you were in front of your building and handing the cab driver a couple of bills. You thanked him before heading up the stone stairs to the front door, and you were in the middle of opening it when you heard someone calling your name.

“Y/N!”

You froze at the deepness of the voice, knowing its owner almost immediately. You turned your head towards the direction your name had carried from, eyes widening as you took in the sight of both Thor and Loki, in street clothes no less. Although, the new garb did nothing to help either of them blend in. Thor was in jeans and a sweatshirt, but his long blonde locks were unmistakable. And Loki wore a pitch-black suit, his dark curls free from any bindings as he watched his brother come over to you.

“Thor?” You let go of the door handle, descending a few steps as a smile stretched across your face. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m looking for my father, Odin,” Thor replied, stopping on the sidewalk in front of your building. He pointed his umbrella at you. “Did you just come home?”

“Yes. I was working, but if you two need help…” you glanced at Loki, still a bit wary of him, before looking Thor in his beautiful blue eyes, “I would love to offer my services.”

And that was how you ended up here. The death of the king of Asgard, a long lost sister (that you knew about from mythology by the way), and a whole other realm away.

God, you hoped you would still have your job after this. When you agreed to help Thor find his father, you didn’t think it would take more than a couple of hours. Yet, here you were, months later in one of the most degrading outfits you had ever had the displeasure of wearing.

You honestly felt like princess Leia, with just a thin, gold-colored bra to cover your chest and a long skirt, in a similar fabric, that started at your hips and went down to your ankles. You’d think such a garment would offer some coverage, but, nope, both sides of the skirt had slits up to the waistband.

The Grandmaster had also insisted that your neck be exposed as well as your feet, so shoes and having your hair down was not allowed when you were in his presence. He also gifted you with gaudy, poorly made jewelry, such as large hoop earrings and a multitude of bracelets.

You spent most of your time with, surprisingly, Loki, with no hide or hair of Thor. It was disgusting watching the God of Mischief kiss up to the Grandmaster, but you couldn’t say you were doing much better. You remained mostly silent, deciding to pretend you were mute, when they first found you among the garbage.

You really didn’t know how you managed to avoid the orgy parties, but Loki had been kind enough to make up excuses for you. Although, there were a few times that you showed you outright refused to be involved in such behavior, especially with The Grandmaster, of all people.

Still, he was the least of your concerns. Bruce was on this planet, and had been for a while, long before you and Loki showed up. However, he was not himself. He was constantly in his Hulk form and was quite childish. He was the Grandmaster’s champion, and you had seen him in action; he was completely taken by the crowd. Hence, him being fine with staying here and obeying the Grandmaster.

Your other concern, which consumed most of your days, was Thor. Had Hela killed him? You hadn’t seen him anywhere on this miserable planet, and Loki had not gotten word from him either. The thought of him being dead was too much to bear, but you soon accepted that maybe that was what had happened. Why else would he not come for you or Loki?

“Mute! Drink!”

The Grandmaster’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you realized that he had been referring to you. The nickname, Mute, was given to you when you refused to give your actual name, and it stuck, unfortunately. Even Loki would call you by the name.

You moved from your spot, standing beside him, and poured some of the dark liquid from the pitcher you held into his gold gauntlet. He lifted his other hand to tell you to stop, and you did as he asked, moving back to your spot.

“Are you excited for this match, Mute?”

You nodded your head, suppressing the urge to roll your eyes. These competitions were getting rather mundane, considering you could always predict the outcome. If any contender even got close to defeating the Hulk, the Grandmaster would cheat.

“This one should be very interesting…” he smirked, sitting back in his seat as his giant hologram began to rile up the crowd.

You glanced at Loki, who sat across the box, leaning forward on his knees, elbows resting on them as he watched the challenger’s side intently. You wondered why he seemed so genuinely interested in this one; he usually only feigned enthusiasm.

Your gaze followed his to the contender’s door, seeing that it was now fully open. A small gasp blew passed your lips, and you brought up a hand to suppress anymore noise from your gaping mouth.

It was Thor. Even from all the way up above the colosseum, you knew it was him. Thor’s broad shoulders were unmistakable, and his muscular build was a dead give away. You had never seen anyone as big in stature as the God of Thunder.

But could he defeat the Hulk? Maybe, if it was a fair fight, but he wasn’t just dealing with the green mutant; he was dealing with the Grandmaster, who would not see his Champion lose.

You glanced at Loki again, and this time he caught you, nearly jumping when he saw your glare. He obviously knew that Thor was here, but he decided not to give you that tidbit of information. Why? Did he want his brother to be beaten to death?

What a stupid question. In the past, he would have done the honors, given the chance.

He would get an earful from you later.

Your attention turned back to the arena, where you saw Thor being booed relentlessly by the crowd. Above their negativity, the Grandmaster’s voice could be heard, announcing his champion.

You wondered how Thor would handle this. He did not know that he would be put up against a friend, but, somewhere in the Hulk, you knew Banner was there. Surely, he would recognize the Asgardian god, but then what? What would the Grandmaster do if his champion refused to fight?

Well–your eyes flickered to the Grandmaster for a moment before returning to the arena–you would soon find out.

The door that Hulk resided behind was torn to shreds as he entered the arena, his roar filling the air as he lifted his powerful arms. The war cry was followed by a shout of joy from the challenger, something no one was used to hearing.

You cracked a smile. Only Thor.

But your amusement was short lived as you watched the two converse. It was clear that the situation was escalating, but why? Didn’t Banner recognize Thor?

When Hulk rushed forward, his violent intent clear, you ran forward, placing your hands on the glass in front of you as you suppressed the urge to scream. You’ve seen what the Hulk could do, and even though Thor was his opponent, the Grandmaster would surely intervene if he got the upper hand.

This could only ever end one way.

Thor dodged his first attack, rolling to the side before bouncing to his feet. You bit your bottom lip, wincing from both the pain and how hard Thor was hit by the Hulk’s gigantic hammer. He skid across the ground, digging his weapon into the ground to eventually stop himself from flying further.

They then exchanged blows, Thor using twin blades, and Hulk still utilizing his supersized tools. You watched, holding your breath and nearly crying out when you saw Thor thrown into the colosseum wall, rock crumbling around him. He recovered, hitting his opponent back with a force much stronger, sending the green mutant through the colosseum wall.

The crowd went silent, and your heart stopped. As much as you worried for Thor, you did not wish harm on Bruce. He had always been kind to you, always inclusive of you.

Thor seemed to be as concerned as you, heading over to where Hulk had landed. You saw Bruce move, dazed and unsteady. You watched with bated breath as Thor held out a hand to him, an offer of truce, and you hoped the Hulk would accept it. He watched the blond god as he carefully approached, reaching out a hand…

For a moment, your racing heart slowed, and you felt joy, realizing that this must be it. This must be the end of the fight.

But it wasn’t.

Within the blink of an eye, Thor was being thrown around, the Hulk smashing him against the ground repeatedly. No mortal man would have survived the first blow to the head, even with the armor Thor sported.

Cheers erupted from the crowd as you looked on, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

Thor was sent flying, crashing to the ground with a horrible thud that you barely registered over the Hulk’s victorious roar. The spectators joined in, spurring him on, while the underdog got to his feet, now holding Hulk’s hammer.

The fight continued on, and it was a close one. There were times you were sure Thor would prevail, but then the Hulk would prove you wrong with a brutal attack. Eventually, it came down to just fists, no weapons, and when you saw him on top of the God of Thunder, repeatedly punching him, tears streamed down your face because you knew that had to hurt.

How could he bear it?

Then, just when you were about to give up completely, a bolt of lightening pushed the Champion off of his challenger. Now, it seemed Thor had the upper hand, and you had never seen such power before. He was a walking storm, each hit packing a punch that echoed like thunder.

The name being chanted from the stands switched. It was entertainment unlike any they had seen before. No one had given the Hulk such a hard time.

And that’s when the Grandmaster decided to do it.

In convulsions that made your own skin crawl to watch, Thor fell to the ground, and you couldn’t watch as the Champion took the opportunity and did what he did best: smash.

A sob escaped your throat as you turned from the glass. Almost immediately, you were in Loki’s arms, one of his palms on the back of your head, cradling it to his chest.

“Is he okay?” you whispered softly as the noise of victory died down.

“I can’t say, but I don’t think he’s dead,” Loki responded in a soft voice. “Not yet, anyways.”

Leisurely, deliberate claps reached your ears, and you lifted your head from under Loki’s chin to see the Grandmaster smirking at you. The expression on his face was enough to make you physically ill, but you held yourself back, pressing your lips together in a firm line.

“What a show, Mute,” he said, shaking his head as he stepped closer to you. “Were you really that taken with the Lord of Thunder?”

God. You wanted to correct him. God of Thunder. You clenched your fists.

“Well, I’ll be kind, then. Be grateful.” He laughed, folding his hands in front of him. “Since he and my champion are such good friends, I think I’ll allow them to be roommates. They can train together and give me more shows as good as this one. And, for providing such good entertainment, I’ll throw the Lord of Thunder a little bone…”

You narrowed your eyes at him, not sure you were following just what he intended to do with any of you, but you knew you didn’t have much of a choice.

“A bone?” Loki asked, a hint of malice in his tone as he tightened his hold on you.

“Why he no wake?”

You let out another sigh, reminding yourself to keep patient and calm, even if this was the twentieth time the Hulk had asked that question. “Because he was badly wounded, Hulk.”

“By me?” He almost seemed proud.

“Yes, by you,” you stated as you kept your eyes on Thor’s peaceful face. You moved carefully, so not to disturb him, as you dipped your cloth in a bowl of water the Grandmaster “oh so graciously” gifted to you. You wrung it out as best you could, keeping the lower half of your body still.

You had already examined most of Thor’s body earlier, looking for broken bones or any signs of internal bleeding. After the beating he went through, he should have had at least a few fractures, but there wasn’t a hint of swelling anywhere on his body, just a few minor cuts and bruises.

He really was a god.

“Why you hold him like that?”

Your cheeks flushed at the question. Why did the Hulk have to know why you were keeping Thor in your lap?

“It makes my job easier,” you answered. It wasn’t quite a lie. You could see a lot of his cuts closer up, and making sure you had cleaned them well enough was less difficult this way. “Plus, you won’t share your bed.”

Your green companion huffed at that, turning on the mattress to show you his back.

You shook your head at his childishness, wishing Banner would take over already. While Hulk did have his likeable moments, he had become quite the narcissist since becoming the Grandmaster’s Champion.

To say you were a little ticked off at him for treating Thor as an enemy was an understatement.

A groan from the person laying on your thighs made you still your hand, only gently dabbing at a particularly bad cut on his brow. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open only to be squeezed shut again as he lifted a palm to the top of his head. “Ow…”

“How are you feeling?” you asked, lowering the arm that was currently tending to his wound.

Thor opened his eyes again, gaze focusing on your face above his. “Y/N?”

“Yes?”

He shot up to a sitting position before groaning again, his body swaying slightly. You touched his shoulder, urging him to be more considerate of his condition.

Apparently, he was more concerned with your presence than his own well-being. He turned to face you completely, his legs crossed, blue orbs wide. “You ended up here, too?”

You nodded. “Loki arrived before me.”

“Wow…It is so good to see you!” he exclaimed, a boyish grin on his lips as he took in your appearance. “Are you okay? Did Loki look after you?” He paused, lifting an eyebrow. “Why are you dressed like that? That man…the Grandmaster? He didn’t lay a finger on you, did he? If he did, I swear to you, Y/N…”

You lifted your hands, attempting to calm him down. “I’m fine, Thor, really. Loki did watch over me…in his own way…And despite the get-up I am forced to wear, the Grandmaster has done nothing more than leer.” This knowledge seemed to placate the man before you, and he let out a heavy sigh, shoulders slumping.

His attention then shifted from you to the bowl and bloody rag next to it. “Were you caring for me?”

The way he phrased the question sent heat to your face, forcing you to bow your head. “Yes…Although, you did not need much first aid.”

“Regardless, I thank you for it.” He nodded, his calloused fingers brushing against your bare shoulder in a gesture of gratitude.

All was silent for a moment, save the Hulk’s snoring, until Thor parted his lips to speak again, his brows furrowed. “Your eyes are red. Were you crying?”

Slightly embarrassed that he had noticed, you chuckled nervously, still avoiding directly looking at him. “Oh…uh…I was at the match, and at the end, I thought you were, well…”

“Oh…You were watching the fight, then.” His baritone voice seemed flat. “It brings me great joy that you worried so much for me, but, as you can see, thanks to you, I am more than fine.”

“Yes. I seem to forget that you are a god.” You smile, trying not to dwell on his hand, which still rested on your left shoulder. It slid down to your palm, his fingers engulfing it as he brought your skin to his lips.

“Thank you, again. I seem to always find myself indebted to you.” His kiss lingered, and you knew you had to be red from head to toe because of it.

“It’s uh…no problem,” you replied, averting your gaze as his hands slipped from yours.

Thor got to his feet, turning as he took in his environment. “Where are we?”

“This is the Hulk’s room.” You stood, bending down to take the bowl of water from the floor. “He spends most of his time here or training.”

“I see…” he trailed off, heading towards the window. “Do you know how the Hulk got here?”

You met his gaze over his shoulder. “When I asked, he said he flew here.”

“Flew?” he whispered, mindful of the sleeping giant as he turned partially toward you, the sun illuminating the perplexed lines of his face. “How? He can’t fly.”

“I don’t know, honestly. I would assume the quinjet, but…” you shrugged, not quite confident in that assumption. You hadn’t thought to ask Hulk about it, and if it was on this planet, you weren’t sure it was in working conditions. Scavengers had probably dissembled most of it, selling or finding new use for its parts.

“That is very likely…” he said, falling silent as he looked over at Banner. He sighed after a few moments. “I’ll just ask when he wakes. We’ll need his help to escape.”

“He won’t want to,” you informed him, the corners of your mouth falling. “I already asked him if he would help me escape, but even when I begged, he absolutely refused to.”

“What? Why?” Thor’s brow knitted together.

“Well, I think he likes the attention he gets here. You’ve seen how they cheer for him in that coliseum.”

“I will talk to him,” Thor stated gravely, bringing a hand up to his face to stroke his beard. “We’ll need the help of the Valkyrie as well…”

“The Valkyrie?” Your face lit up like a Christmas tree, and you took a step closer to Thor. “They are here?”

He chuckled at your excitement. “One is. She’s actually the one that brought me here…But it won’t be easy to convince her…” His mood deflated as he said this. “She holds an immense amount of hatred towards me.”

“Why is that? From what I’ve read, they fight for Odin.” You shake your head, confused.

“They did…I don’t know what happened,” he exhaled, closing his eyes briefly. “This won’t be easy, but at least I have you on my side…” He trailed off, eyes narrowing as the focused on you.

Heat crawled up your neck as you withstood his intent stare, but it only got worse when he took long, deliberate strides to stand right before you, his hand lifting to touch the small, metal crater that was inserted into your skin. It matched his, and its purpose was no different. Should you act out, you would be punished.

You heard Thor’s sharp intake of breath, his lips pressing into a taut line. “Have they used this?” The tips of his digits caressed the skin near the obedience disk, causing you to unconsciously shiver. You prayed he didn’t notice.

“N-No…I haven’t given them a reason to.”

“Good.” His muscles relaxed, the severity of his expression disappearing some. “This complicates things. I have to find a way to get that off of you.” He withdrew his hand, backing away from you. “How long has he been asleep?”

“Huh? Oh…Hulk? He went to bed just before you woke up.” You blinked, cursing yourself internally for sounding like such a lovesick fool. You’d be beyond shocked if Thor didn’t know the effect he had on you and why.

“Shit…Okay. I’ll wait.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t want to get him any angrier.” He sat down by the window, resting his elbows on his knees. After a few seconds of silence, and you awkwardly standing after putting the bowl down on a table, Thor turned to you. “Come, sit. Tell me of your life since Ultron.”

You gave him a hint of a smile before moving to sit beside him, and he shifted in the seat to face you better. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

Since the Battle of New York, whenever Loki showed up, you weren’t the happiest of campers. You could tolerate him, but you didn’t trust him as far as you could throw him; for good reason, too, because he did try to betray both you and Thor during your escape from Sakaar, just as the God of Thunder had anticipated.

Now, however, as you were attempting to defend yourself against an undead army, you were the happiest you had ever been to see the God of Mischief. You were never a fighter, and maybe with a safe place for the Asgardians, you could actually begin to help those injured.

Loki spotted you immediately, yelling to his people to board the ship before making his way over to you. Once he reached you, he grabbed you by the shoulders. “Thor has told me that you have the power to heal.”

“Well, in a way…” You were about to explain how you had no magical abilities, that your methods were entirely based on medical science, but you decided that now was probably not the time.

“Come.” He wrapped an arm around your torso, fighting his way back to the ship. “I have found a healer!” Loki announced loudly over the sounds of frantic citizens. They made a path for you, allowing you to get aboard the spaceship ahead of many.

As soon as Loki had declared you someone that could help, people were rushing forward with friends and family members, asking for your help. It was very had to do with very limited supplies, but luckily, many were willing to offer up parts of their clothing as bandages. Quite a few people also had jugs of water, similar to canteens, while others had filled them with some form of alcohol.

Despite help from many, you were one woman, and it was very difficult to keep up with the number of patients you were receiving, some far more wounded than others. You tried to prioritize, and it became clear that this was also quite the task. You could not see all your patients at once, so it was hard to determine who was more in need of care than another. You tried your best to recall your training, including the ABCs of prioritization: Airway, Breathing, Circulation.

Finally, a brave Asgardian offered up her services, followed by a few others. You quickly explained what you needed them to do, giving them those that came in with less complicated injuries. With more people helping you out, you moved onto those that were hurt fighting the undead. And, god, you had never seen so much blood…You didn’t typically deal with stab wounds or missing limbs on your unit of the hospital, but, with your knowledge of how the body worked, you knew what you had to do.

The sounds of agonizing screams as you cleaned deep lesions or bound gaping holes would haunt you in your sleep. You were sure of it. Without access to painkillers, it was very difficult to care for those in writhing pain. You would have given them alcohol, and some did ask for it, but you were reserving it for sterilization because it did better than water.

What really killed you, though, was when you were unable to save someone. Their loved ones would be circled around you, and with one look at the patient, you knew, even as an Asgardian, they would not survive. You still did your best, but by then, those around you would realize it, too.

You didn’t have time to mourn with them, to exercise proper family-centered care, as you were taught to do.

Tears would stream down your face as you moved to the next person that needed you, and it didn’t sit well with you. Your own heart would tighten because you didn’t deal with death often–you were in the business of preventing death–and it meant you failed. While the more rationale side of you knew that there was nothing you could have done, your emotions refused to listen.

It made it hard to concentrate, especially with the sounds of war right outside. At some point, thunder had joined the cacophony, and you wondered if Thor had been victorious against Hela. But the fighting would of stopped right? The steady stream of patients would have stopped. It didn’t. You were still overwhelmed.

Why didn’t it stop?

The ship began to move, and your head cleared enough for you to focus again. You had all the time in the world to freak out later.

More people rushed in–the last, you thought and hoped–and you quickly urged a man close to you. “Keep the pressure on his elbow, please!” He just nodded numbly as you got to your feet, shouting above the screams. “If anyone needs medical attention, please come to me!”

And then you were flooded again. More volunteers came forward.

“What is your name?” A man with dark skin and eyes unlike any you had seen came forward, lowering a woman to the ground before you.

“I am Y/N.” The words were hurried from your throat as you ripped some of the woman’s cloak to wrap around the gash on her shoulder. “Hold my hand,” you told her, and she nodded, wrapping her fingers about yours. She squeezed, hard, when you doused her wound with alcohol and then drenched it with water to, hopefully, deaden the alcohol’s effect.

“So you are the one he spoke of,” the man whispered, helping the woman to her feet after you had wrapped her injury. She leaned on him as he stared at you, studying your features. “You are the Midgardian that lifted Thor’s hammer.”

“You know about that?” you asked, a bit breathless as you ripped more of your skirt for bandages.

“Yes. I am Heimdell,” he introduced himself with a small smile. “On behalf of all the Asgardians, I thank you for your help.”

“It is no trouble,” you said before seeing to a man who had lost his arm in battle. On your way to him, shots rang out, and you froze, eyes darting to the man who held two guns, similar to those that you had on Earth. You turned to Heimdell. “We are leaving Asgard?”

“Yes. Thor has asked that we do.”

“But he is still fighting?”

Heimdell gave you a look, one that answered all the questions you had lined up in your head. Your chest constricted, making it impossible to breathe, but you ignored the feeling and marched over to the man that was in need of care.

If Thor died, he would not die in vain. You would save as many of his people as you possibly could.

But, as fate would have it, Thor was on the ship with Valkyrie and the Hulk minutes later, making a ruckus as he called for you. When he saw you, he did not hesitate to take you from whoever you had just finished tending to and bring you into his arms.

“You are well,” he said, chest heaving as he pulled you in closer. He smelled of sweat and blood, but you didn’t care. His hug calmed you in ways you did not understand; after just being through a war, something you had never experienced before, you were moments from falling apart.

You peered up at him, choking on whatever words you had for him when you saw…

“What the fuck happened to your eye!?”

And the blond bastard just let his head fall back, his one remaining eye squeezing closed, as his booming laugh filled your ears.

“There.” You took a step back, exhaling softly as you lowered your arm to your side. “I’ve never had to patch up an eye, but I suppose there is a first time for everything.”

“Yes. I suppose so.” Thor’s lips stretched into a grin, but something about it was fake. How could he smile in such times, when he had been through so much?

You stared at him for a moment, and, evidently, your scrutiny was too much for the god. “What?”

Moving to sit beside him on the bed, you took his hand in both of yours, peering at his face. “How are you?”

“What do you–?”

“This couldn’t have been easy for you. Hell, I’m still having trouble with everything that happened, but you’ve just been through a lot more than I have, Thor. You lost a father, you killed your sister, and your home has been reduced to space dust. And that’s just the main stuff.”

Thor chuckled lightly, but there was nothing cheerful about it. He put his other hand on top of yours, patting it gently. “All that happened, yes, but those are matters I don’t really have the energy to think about. What is really bothering me, is the role I must assume. I have people I have to take care of.”

You nodded, swallowing thickly as his blue eyes captured you, making you unable to look away.

“How do you do it?”

You leaned back in shock, not having expected him to ask you that, of all things. You scoffed, pulling away from him slightly. “I…Wow. Um…Thor, being a king and being a nurse are very different things.”

He shook his head, the wrinkles accompanying his laugh genuine this time. “You are wrong, Y/N. Your training, while not inclusive of the aspects of governing a country, does include the basic thing that a king must have.”

“And what is that?”

“Compassion.”

You giggled despite his seriousness. “Then why are you asking me what you already know?”

And for the first time since he met Valkyrie, you experienced a sight that set your heart aflame: Thor being embarrassed. He bowed his head with a tint of pink to his face. “I suppose you are right…”

“Thor.” You scooted closer to him, meeting his gaze. “You will make a fine king.”

The corners of his mouth lifted as he moved his dominant hand from yours to slowly brush your cheek with his knuckles. “Thank you. For everything. And I am sorry…So very sorry…”

Your breath caught in your throat as Thor sincerely apologized to you, and water blurred your vision of him. “Don’t apologize.” You begged. “Please.”

“Oh, Y/N…” You felt him touch the side of your face, fingers brushing the soft curve of it. “Do not cry.” His voice cracked as he said this.

“You know…” you sniffled, lifting a hand. “I just…I saw a bit what war is like today as well as its casualties…And despite the fact I should have been focused on what I was doing, maybe I would have saved a few more people…”

Thor hushed you, cupping your face in both his large hands, thumbs swiping away the drops that spilled down your skin. “You did more than enough. Asgard thanks you for it.”

“But…all I could think about was how much I didn’t want to lose you…” you sobbed, closing your eyes to avoid seeing his reaction to your confession. “And I know it’s selfish, but I don’t want to go back to Earth and just go on living like this never happened because I won’t be able to…”

Thor’s fingers stilled long before you finished speaking, and when all was silent, save your staggered breathing and the pounding of your blood organ against your chest wall, you felt warmth upon your tear-stained cheeks. Strong arms pulled you into a body that radiated heat, and supple lips brushed against yours.

“I won’t be able to, either.” The words were soft against your mouth as a palm came up to run along your temple. “I need you, too.”

TAGS: @champion-ofthe-sun, @fucmeupfandoms, @jumpingmanatee, @magnitude101999, @jmberries, @en-chant-ress, @mysweetcookie99, @125bluemachine125, @thewayilookatbacon, @baileythepenguin, @eudokimia

If there is a strikethrough through your name, it means I could not tag you.

TAGS ARE OPEN!

Fanfiction Master List

Marvel Master List

Master List

[yourjughead]

Wrong side of the tracks pt.4

Pairing: Jughead x reader, Bughead, reader x plot twist hopefully Warnings: Swearing, light smut, issues of abandonment. A/N: Sorry didn't get time to edit this is wrote it straight out of work to get it up for you guys, excuse mistakes I think in irish. I really hope you guys get a little shook from this one or otherwise I'd be sad 😂 definitely more excitement in this one than the other 3 but not as much as part 5....oh the suspense. Also low key regret not calling this series "mentally cursing yourself" because honestly, mood. REQUESTS OPEN. ------------------------------------ 3rd Person. Once again you find yourself jumping at the realisation Jughead is behind you. “Jughead! Stop sneaking up on me! Do that one too many times on the Southside and you'll get yourself stab for fucksake” you said as you playfully shoved him. He smiled back at you sweetly. “Sorry sorry y/n” “and for christ sake stop apologising to me!” you laughed “you're right I'm sor...not sorry”. He smiled down to you, totally captivated by your eyes. “So, how was your first day Kitten” he smiled once again but stopped once he saw your eyes darken. “Don't ever call me that again.” you say bitterly. Jugheads smile faded into confusion “what? I thought it was endearing?” “there is nothing endearing about it” “Okay I'm sor….okay” he turned slightly from you and looked for the bus. You closed your eyes and regretted your words. “Okay it's my turn to apologise now. it's just...its just Ryan calls me that and I'm not exactly his number one fan and he's not mine so if you could...could not” you were expecting to be chewed out of it for some reason but then again Jughead was different and maybe he'd react softer and not push further for more answers. And he did just that.  “Oh yeah I had forgotten that..it's alright, really my mistake anyway...but umm how was your first day” his smile grew again and you both loved and hated him in that moment for being so understanding. If he had been horrible he would have been easier to push and shove away from getting too close. “it was good I suppose except this weird antisocial dude in a beanie is like stalking me” you teased “oh really? Well this girl I ran into once, pardon the pun, literally showed up at my school unannounced and is now in all my classes, weirdo” and you both laughed. Jughead enjoyed the playfulness between you two but still he wondered what happened between you and Ryan. The bus came. “aren't you going to get on” Jughead offered seeing you still fixed to the spot “nah my uncle will bring me home” “can your brother not drive?” “what brother?” you looked at him all kinds of confused. “you said today in your lie to Veronica that your brother had the same hat as me...I was just assuming the brother part of that wasn't a lie” “nope. No brother.” “ahhh...and the enigma that is Y/N Y/L/N is further explored” he smiled with a wave stepping onto the bus. The rest of December had flown by until Christmas had been and gone. Your days were spent much like your first, in the comfortable silence with Jughead while his friends rambled on. Betty had become more cautious of you however and tried to get space between you where possible, which wasn't easy by any means. Jughead and you shared a lot of things in common that they did not. You two had almost every class together and were just simply naturally pulled together and every day you grew closer and closer. This drove Betty mad. You were in fact a little shocked to learn that Jughead and Betty were a thing, which Kevin had divulged one day on the way to Geography when Jughead was sick. You thought she seemed far more into it than he did and Kevin agreed with you but in total confidence.   When you asked Jughead about it he seemed shaken and hesitant to talk about her whereas she was ready and open to discuss him. You wondered why he hadn't mentioned it and you had already been 1 week into your new life at Riverdale High. She had insisted that Jughead spend the whole holiday period with herself and her family which, after careful vetting from social care, went okay enough. If a bit tedious and boring for Jughead. Betty didn't allow Jughead to leave her side. Which drove his spirit wild. It also meant that you and Jughead didn't see each other all holiday. Which you guessed was the idea of the set up. Betty refused to go to the Southside for reasons that Jughead couldn't understand and you couldn't go to Riverdale as your uncle didn't let you unless it was for school or you were supervised. You had decided it would be better to just not see him than have 1000 questions asked about him on the way home and Jughead agreed. It was 2 more sleeps till school started and you missed Jughead terribly. *sms: Jug: hey Juliet, nurse off?, do you wanna go for a walk. I can protect you from all the scary things -5:56am *sms: Y/N/N: Ha.ha Y/N. Yeah sure I'll meet you at pops? I have your Christmas present -5:58am. The Xx had caught you off. Maybe it was a reflex left over from texting Betty. He had gotten to Pops first as you pulled up on your motorbike and parked under the neon red lights.   You had only heard of this place from Jughead and had never been as you liced a little in fear of having to deal with a snappy Betty. The sun was attempting to break through the clouds as you dismounted your bike and walked to the entrance where you met Jug. “are we going to go inside or is there some sort of a forcefield around the place that I can't see” you laugjed “I just thought we could go for a walk and then pops? Besides it's his son manning the place and he doesn't like me very much, thinks I'm a waster” “oh so he's a good judge of character” you smirk and bump into Jughead playfully. You two continue messing about along a path in the woods. He told you more about his book and the other history of the woods before the murder. You stopped at a cliffs edge and looked down at the cascading waterfall as the sun continued to fight and win it's battle with the clouds. You two walked down a little bit further and then sat at the waterfront and enjoyed the sunrise. Jughead POV This is perfect. She is so perfect. I rustled around a little bit in my gear bag before I found her present badly wrapped in newspaper. I gave it to her and once again apologised to her for which she hit me and told me shed do that every time I apologised from now on. The sun is hitting her so perfectly. I watch as she cautiously opened the wrapping and revealed the new vintage Metallica tee and a can of pasta sauce. She burst into laughter but not in a horrible or rude way, in an appreciative, you're an idiot, Y/N kind of way. “thank you Juggy”. Did she just call me Juggy? Are we at that point now where she can call me that...God I hope so. It was her turn to give me a present and although i hadn't expected one I was glad I hadn't overstepped a boundary by buying her something. It was wrapped beautifully and carefully, much nicer than mine. Idiot Jughead idiot. She must have noticed me mentally giving out to myself on seeing the wrapping as she offered “i especially love the wrapping, very Jughead Jones”. What did she mean by love...WHAT DID SHE MEAN. I opened the package and there inside was a metallica tee and a jar of pasta sauce. I looked at her with wide eyes and she at I with a wide smile. Our laughter must have been heard throughout the woods. Idiots, we're both idiots in the best way. We spoke for another hour before we walked back. We decided not go to pops his time as if we stayed out longer we risked getting caught. She drove off on a bike she had said her uncles bought her for Christmas. I wonder where her parents are…. I got back to Betty's around 7.30 am and quietly slipped in the backdoor and took off my boots. I wandered to the couch closing my eyes as I sat down on the edge. I held my new tee tight in my hand like a baby holding their blankie. Just as my head was about to touch the pillow, the light flashed on. Shit. “So juggy..” it didn't sound right coming from her lips after I hearing Y/N say it. No Jughead! no! You like Betty! You know, Betty, the blonde girl next door who is standing in the doorway looking like she was to bury you under the house next door. “you left your phone after you….meeting y/n at this time are we?” she seethed. Wow she was mad. “Umm yeah she needed to talk about some stuff” “and what is that” she hissed pointing at the tee in my grip. “Oh Y/Ns Christmas present to me” i stood and held it to my body modeling it hoping to lighten the mood by tenfold. It didn't..  Betty stepped in and closed the door. She took steps towards me until we were less than arms length apart. “she's not your girlfriend juggy” there it is again, my name but not my name the way I hear it from Y/N. “give it to me. Now.” she practically growled. “ehhh no” i scoffed in return. Mistake. She snatched it from my tight grasp causing it's vintage-ness to catch up with it. It was ripped down the seam at the side. “Betty! What the hell!” it was my turn to be angry. “It was an accident Juggy I swear!” she genuinely sounded sorry. She grabbed hold of me into a hug and I was victim again to her char.m. Her arms were around my shoulders and my arms around her waist. She swayed us gently calming us both down. She kissed me so sweetly at first but soon it turned hungry and lustful. Pushing me back to the couch she was on top of me . She moved from my mouth to my neck causing a slight groan to leave my lips. God I hated how she was in control but I couldn't flip her on the couch or we'd fall. She put a finger to her lips to be quiet as her family were still asleep upstairs. She straddled me and pulled my shirt over my head and began to kiss down my torso. I pulled her back up to my lips wanting to have at least a small bit of control. “Ohh Juggy” she purred in my ear. “ohhh Y/N” I goaned. Shit. 3rd POV Y/N got back to the apartment where she lived alone. Her father was tragically killed when she was younger and her mother ran far away not able to cope with life on the southside any longer. Her care had fallen to her dad's three closest friends. More so like uncles to her now than dad's old friends from “work”. She opened the door of the apartment. She hummed happily as she entered but soon stopped dead in her tracks. She took her pocket knife from her jacket and stepped further into the living room. There the chair was spun around facing a glowing fire. “Well what the fuck are you doing here Ryan” Ryan spun slowly in the chair mimicking that of a Bond villain. “now now Kitten, that's no way to talk to your brother now is it?” -------------------------------- Teehee. Well? Let me what you think!

[phandictioned]

I'm not trying to be pushy or anything, but will you ever post that prompt about the weight gain?

I’m sorry! I went through such writers block for a while. But you caught me at the perfect time as I just finished reading an angsty fic and was in the right frame of mind for something like this. Here you go! I hope you like it. I didn’t have the time to reread it for errors or anything so sorry about that!

AO3 Link

Dan’s mouth hangs open, eyes closed in pure bliss. Phil is leaving scolding, rough kisses along his jaw. His hands hold Dan’s body solid where they sit on the couch. They’ve been at it for a while now and things have only gotten more intense as the minutes pass. Dan’s aware of how sore his lips and tongue are but it’s certainly not something he’s concerned about. His hands are fisted in Phil’s shirt determined to keep him there forever even if Phil doesn’t seem inclined to leave anytime soon. Phil is panting against his lips and Dan can feel his heart pounding a hundred miles an hour where his other hand presses against the older boy’s chest. He feels teeth scrape gently along the pulse point on his neck and groans obnoxiously. Phil chuckles against his skin and does it again. Phil is so good at this. Which Dan is grateful for, though it also makes him wonder who he’s the chance to practice on and if he things about too hard the thought drives him mad. After all, they’ve been friends for years and Dan doesn’t recall seeing too many people trudge up the stairs to Phil’s room. There was that one guy…Kevin…

Dan however, is still new to this. Not the kissing Phil thing. That’s been going on since their realized very non-platonic feelings for each other were expressed a few months ago. And when they first met in person all those years ago there had certainly been drunken make out sessions that they didn’t speak of the following mornings. That had been a long time ago though. And Dan hasn’t been very…active since that time. Over those years a lot has happened. Him and Phil’s popularity sky rocketed, events happened, interviews occurred, they’d even started writing a book and for Christ’s sake. As their entire career involves the internet they’ve spent a lot more time on it as well. Yes, believe it or not this does all have to do with why Dan’s heart suddenly flips anxiously as Phil’s hand slides down his back and onto his hip, not so subtly playing with the loose part of his shirt. Dan’s eyes shoot open in panic. You see, all this sitting around on the internet, eating pizzas because the book gives them little brain power to think of something to make for dinner, existential crisis causing him to lay in bed till two PM…all of this has resulted in some weight gain. When Dan first noticed the changes to his body he tried desperately to change his eating habits. But Phil was no help to that as he enjoyed the pizza as much as Dan did. Why didn’t the bastard seem to gain weight at all, no matter how much he ate, thought Dan bitterly. His frustrated thought came out in a physical as he bit and pulled at Phil’s bottom lip. Phil yelped but the act only made him more excited. He pushed Dan down onto his back, forcing a breath out of the younger. Shit, shit, now look at what you’ve done, Dan curses at himself. Him and Phil hadn’t necessarily discussed the idea of sex in their growing relationship just yet. But it’s certainly been on their minds. But things are different now. Dan has grown up. He didn’t have the skinny, tanned, tight body that he did when him and Phil were last sexually active together. Dan hates that he cares so much about how he looks. He knows Phil. Phil is the least judgmental person he’s ever meant and the fact that he’s afraid of what the man will think of him is very unfair. He’s aware of that. It’s not as if Phil hasn’t seen him with his clothes off. It’s just…different now. Oh God. Dan says to himself as Phil’s hand inches up his shirt. His body is very ready to accept this touch but his mind starts reeling. He can’t let this happen yet. He needs to lose weight first. Yeah, that’s a good idea. He will put himself a diet right away and the Phil will never know how bad Dan has allowed himself to get. Dan releases his hold on Phil’s shirt and encircles the wrist of the hand that has continued moving under his shirt. His mouth still engulfed in Phil’s he shakes his head fervently, fear punching him in the stomach. Of course Phil is going to think that Dan simply doesn’t want to have sex with him. He’s going to think the worst. He’s going to think Dan doesn’t want him at all even that is completely, absolutely not true in the slightest. If it wasn’t for this slight problem, Dan would likely be shoving his hands down the man’s pants.His predictions of Phil’s thoughts are confirmed when the older pulls away, resting his elbows on either side of Dan’s body and looking down at him in hurt wonderment. His eyes begging for an explanation. He tilts his head to the side and Dan wants to cry with how horrible of a person he is. His emotion is apparently evident in his eyes. Phil reaches a hand up and brushes the hair from his face “Dan? What’s wrong?” His voice is so utterly pitiful, so sad sounding. “I…I just…can we…I don’t want to. Okay? I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.” Dan swallows the painful lump in his throat. “Shhh, it’s okay. I can wait for as long as you need.” Phil shakes his head in understanding. Or what he thinks is understanding. He places a chaste kiss on the boy beneath him’s forehead. “It’s okay Dan, really. It doesn’t change anything.”Dan’s voice comes out shakily. “Are you sure? You promise?”Phil smiles at him. “Of course I’m sure. I want you tonight but I’ll want you every other night too. But can you tell me why you don’t want to continue? Am I doing anything that makes you uncomfortable?” Dan lets out a short burst of laughter. “No. I just…” He averts his eyes, scanning briefly over himself and subconsciously. Trying to suck in his stomach. “You haven’t seen me…without clothes on for a while. I mean…not in a sexual sense.” Dan feels his face burning with humiliation. Phil’s eyebrows draw together in confusion. “So?”Dan’s eyes widen. “So? So I’m not that skinny teenager you used to make out with! The pizzas and the sleeping in and of my God.” Dan covers his eyes with his hands and groans. When Phil doesn’t say anything and he can’t handle the silence anymore he peeks from between his fingers. Phil has a cheesy smile on his face and is looking at him. Dan drops his hands slowly. “What? Don’t look at me like that.”“Dan, you are so, incredibly ridiculous and blind.”“W-what?” Dan replies uncertain of what Phil means.Phil snorts a laugh before pushing himself up into a sitting position. He takes Dan’s hand and pulls him up too. He places a hand on Dan’s cheek, stroking it and fiddling with his hair. He’s staring at Dan with so much affection that an unexpected pain burst through Dan’s chest. How could he look at Dan that way? He certainly didn’t deserve it. “Daniel Howell, since the day I saw that MySpace profile picture, and seeing you in person at that trains station, and staring across for you at that Starbucks, you’ve been the most beautiful, sexiest person I could ever hope to have in my life.”“But that’s the things Phil. That was when I was younger!” Dan tries to tell him. Phil only shakes his head. He takes Dan’s hands in his own. “I thought that a year ago when I woke up on my birthday and watched you make me pancakes in the kitchen. And when we spent an entire day doing nothing but play Mario Kart in our pajamas. And at that YouTube party where I watched you beside me, holding a drink and laughing at something I said that was probably not that funny.”“Phil-” Dan started, shaking his head and looking away. He was just trying to make Dan feel better. That’s what Phil does. He couldn’t mean any of this.“No. I’m not finished. And then there’s that time you fell asleep on the couch after having a little too much to drink and I wanted to kiss you so badly. Oh, Dan you have no idea how badly I wanted to kiss you in that moment and I couldn’t because you weren’t mine yet.” Phil closes his eyes as if recalling the memory. He sighs happily. Dan swallows, meeting Phil’s eyes when he opened them again. And still Phil doesn’t stop. The man leans close to Dan, whispering against his lips, his voice trembling slightly. “I’ve wanted you to be mine for so long Dan. And you are now and I love you. I’ve always loved you. You as a person, you as Daniel James Howell,” Phil tilts Dan’s head up to kiss him lightly, so gently that Dan almost doesn’t feel it. “You drive me crazy. Your body drives me crazy. I want to be with you Dan. I want everything about you to be mine.” Dan’s breath hitches as a hand snakes up his shirt again. Fingers tickle his abdomen and he’s squeezes his eyes shut in panic and disgust for himself. He’s about to pull away and Phil knows it. He connects their lips again, more fervently this time. He moans into the kiss and Dan’s body shutters as Phil’s hand skims across his skin. Phil pulls just a centimeter away to whisper something against his cheek. “Does it look like I care at all about anything you’ve just said? Tell me Dan.”“No.” Dan can barely speak the word but he knows it’s the truth. Phil really doesn’t care about how he looks. But he does care about he feels and that’s why he’s saying all of these things. Dan closes his eyes, pushing forward and kissing Phil again. Dan has a hundred negative thoughts about himself and no one has ever been able to change his mind about a single one of them until this moment. “Good. Now, is there any chance we can continue where we left off?” Dan grins against Phil’s lips and nods defiantly. “Please.”

Inspire me! Send me prompts!

[recentanimenews]

RWBY Future Predictions

Last Saturday, RWBY’s sixth season wrapped up with the main cast approaching the flying kingdom of Atlas. Throughout the season, the audience and main cast learned much more about the past of the world of Remnant, like Ozpins and Salem's backstory, while older plot threads continued to develop, like Jaune continuing to mourne Pyrrha.

While fans wait for season seven to begin, the various clues and loose threads of the story can help to give some insight as to where the show may be heading in the future.

For the sake of compartmentalization, I have split the various story ideas in to the near, middle and far future. These correlate to the next season or two of the show, sometime in the next five seasons or so and likely near the end of the series, respectively.

Near Future: Pyrrha comes back

After Cinder killed her in the season three finale, Pyrrha has strangely not entirely left the show. She keeps coming back in scenes mostly focused around Jaune but also occasionally from other characters referencing either the Fall of Beacon or what they’ve lost. In season six, a fallen leaf guides Jaune to a statue of Pyrrha where he speaks to a woman with red hair and green eyes, like Pyrrha.Add in that it is snowing and that Pyrrha was the Fall Maiden, and the show may well be indicating that she is not fully gone yet.

With how much attention she’s gotten, it’s entirely possible that she’ll come back in some respect. Most likely, this would not be a true resurrection though. Rather, she would probably take one of two forms. Either she is like Ozpin, reincarnating as a guiding voice inside someone else’s head, or like a Force ghost, appearing for a short time to give guidance or closure but not influence any events.

Near Future: Emerald joins Cinder / a third faction fully forms

We have already seen some of this take start to take shape, but Cinder and Neo may form an entire faction unto themselves, and since season six made it clear just how devoted to Cinder Emerald is, the moment they know where each other are Emerald will almost certainly leave Salem and the rest to rejoin Cinder.

An interesting development to this dynamic would be if the new faction stop being fully villainous and become closer to anti-heros. When Grimm were attacking Beacon, Emerald seemed horrified while she and Mercury looked over the city. Cinder wants to make Ruby suffer, but if Salem is about to kill all of humanity, she may hold off and join the heroes long enough to ensure that she gets to kill Ruby herself.

Middle Future: Beacon restored / the return of the original cast

In the World of Remnant series, Ozpin made it clear that the communications towers connect the kingdoms, and that if even one goes down, the others cannot connect. Since the Fall of Beacon, we have never heard about any efforts to restore the tower or kingdom, and also haven’t heard anything from many characters present in the first three seasons.

This potentially sets up a great season finale in the future, where team RWBY and the rest are struggling against an onslaught of Grimm and don’t expect any help, but then their scrolls start lighting up with radio chatter from other kingdoms. While the commotion died down, new people show up to help, and we get the return of the more memorable characters from earlier seasons, like Velvet and Professor Goodwitch. This would also allow for more hated characters like team CRDL to grow off screen and come back as much more developed characters.

Middle Future: The general populace learns about silver eyes

Due to the extreme circumstances she has been through, Ruby has not done much to hide her eyes’ power from the world. At the Fall of Beacon, it seemed like no one but Cinder was present to see Ruby when she turned the Wyvern to stone. When she did the same to the Leviathan at Argus though, there was clearly a large crowd watching everything.

Since the power is presented as something that many people know about but think is nothing more than a fairy tale, this provides a way for many more people to come to accept that magic is real and that the fairy tales they grew up on might have more truth than they thought, or for other people with silver eyes to come forward in future seasons.

Middle Future: More fairy tales come true

All of the fairy tales of Ramnant are supposed to have some basis in truth, even though the stories themselves are generally regarded as fiction. However, throughout RWBY, we’ve learned about the Tale of Two Brothers, the Silver-Eyed Warriors, and the Four Maidens in explicit detail. The first are the gods of light and dark that cursed Salem and Ozpin, the Maidens were originally their children and the warriors clearly existed since Ruby and Maria have their power.

However, opens the door for other fairy tales being more grounded in reality than expected. The audience does not know of many other fairy tales, only the Shallow Sea and the Girl in the Tower, but with all of the travelling the main cast has done in the past three seasons, it is entirely possible that they might stumble across either the original truth that created the myths, or whatever happened as a result.

Far Future: Judgement Day

During season six, we learned from Jinn’s flashback that Ozpin keeps reincarnating because he was chosen by the light god to be the one person who would remember when they were around, and that they were also leaving four relics behind. In the same flashback, we learn that when all four relics are brought together, the pair of gods will judge whether humanity has learned to cooperate and that if not, the gods will end humanity entirely and try again.

Our heroes already have one relic, so will they ever gather the other three? Will the show actually provide a definite answer to something like the worth of humanity, or will it remain a driving force that no one ever actually reaches?

Realistically, it probably won’t. Even if the show picks up its pace and either splits the main cast of just fast forwards their travel to the other kingdoms, it will still probably take at least three or four seasons just to get the other relics, then another season building up to the actual judgement, and of course calling gods to judge whether humanity should be eliminated entirely or not is generally a plot point reserved for the finale of a series.

If the judgement happens and the show isn’t over yet, it enters an entirely new phase. With the gods returned, humanity has access to magic again and the Grimm are likely gone due to the god of light’s influence. However, humanity has been without the gods for so long that they may unite against them, or some could choose to go to the dark god, like Salem did previously.

Far Future: They finally graduate

It’s worth remembering that team RWBY and their peers went through a semester or so of school before the Vytal Festival and the rest of season three. Assuming that the Academies work like college/university, they have another three years of schooling before they are professional huntsmen and huntresses.

If this is ever touched on in later seasons, it will likely be either glanced over as something that the main cast doesn’t need since they have so much experience actually fighting Grimm, or an afterthought in the final episode showing them finally getting diplomas during the credits. A humorous way to wrap up this plot point would be if they cast revisits Beacon after so much fighting and training and take three years of tests and training over the course of a week to show that they are officially qualified.

Those were my thoughts on some of the plot threads in RWBY and where the show might be heading in the next season and beyond. Personally, I actually really want the graduation montage and the return of the season one through three cast, but what do you think about my ideas? Do you have any other thoughts or theories about where the show’s headed? Let me know in the comments below!

----

Kevin Matyi is a freelance features writer for Crunchyroll. He's been watching anime for as long as he can remember, and his favorite shows tend to be shonen and other action series.

  Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!  

By: news+feed@crunchyroll.com

[junker-town]

What’s the 1 thing you’d change about every NFL team’s 2017 season?

In the spirit of the holiday season, let’s imagine what each team would pick if Santa existed (WINK) and granted them all a do-over.

When the holiday season rolls around, it’s fun to pretend you live in the fairy-tale comfort of a Hallmark Christmas movie. (This isn’t just us, right?) It’s Christmas Eve, you’re thinking about that one big regret from this past year as you gaze out your frosted window into a perfect-looking winter wonderland that somehow exists in a world without global warming. Suddenly, a guardian angel or a loved one’s ghost or your future self appears, ready to help you change the past.

Now imagine instead of airing on your grandma’s favorite cable channel, it’s on NFL Network. What would be the one thing each team would change about this season?

Unfortunately, this film doesn’t exist, as far as we know (there are an Avogadro's number of streaming services out there now, so we’re only about 99.9 percent certain here.) But we do have our friends at the SB Nation NFL team sites, who were willing to look back and write about at what was, for most, a painful memory from 2017.

For some teams, this season has been one giant blow to the solar plexus after another, so narrowing the list to just one was difficult. For way too many of them, a major injury was the moment when everything changed.

Others thought that a certain position, player, or one specific game altered the course of the entire season. And sort of surprisingly, one shared regret was not signing 38-year-old Josh McCown.

In the spirit Tiny Tim, a few sites counted their blessings and had to reach to come up with something they’d want their teams to redo.

Here’s the one change our team sites would make if the Ghost of Christmas Past gave them a chance to do this season over again:

The cruel fate of injuries

This was an unfortunate theme of the 2017 season.

Baltimore Ravens: CB Jimmy Smith’s career season getting cut short

I’ve been a huge Jimmy Smith believer since day one. Wrote many articles about him over the past four years, and to watch his best season yet be lost to an Achilles tear is disheartening. He was in line for All-Pro recognition, awards and respect among the league, but it was taken from him due to a torn Achilles.

For more, check out the entire entry at Baltimore Beatdown.

Chicago Bears: How they handled guard Kyle Long’s injury

The one thing I would change about the Bears’ season is they should have allowed Kyle Long to get his body right before letting him play.

Long had offseason surgery on his ankle, but his labrum was also ailing after his 2016 season. He had some complications during his ankle rehab that slowed his readiness for training camp, and that also led to him deciding to put off the labrum surgery.

For more, check out the entire entry at Windy City Gridiron.

Houston Texans: Deshaun Watson tearing his ACL is the obvious (and right) answer

If DW4 hadn’t gotten hurt, he would have surely built upon the electric seven-game sample he tantalized NFL fans with. It’s also entirely possible, perhaps even probable, that he would have led the Texans back to the playoffs. In any event, Watson would have made Texans games appointment viewing again instead of the grim trudge to the finish line they’ve become since he went down.

For more, check out the entire entry at Battle Red Blog.

Indianapolis Colts: If only rookie safety Malik Hooker hadn’t gotten hurt

Hooker is a very young player who only started for a year in his final season at Ohio State. His rookie year was supposed to be all about him growing and developing into a star, all while making opposing quarterbacks pay for errant passes. This defense is being built around young players like Henry Anderson, Johnathan Hankins, Wilson, Melvin and Hooker. The more they can play together, the better it will be for 2018 when they can hit the ground running and be a really good defense. That will have to be put on hold, at least as far as Hooker is concerned.

For more, check out the entire entry at Stampede Blue.

Kansas City Chiefs: Eric Berry’s Achilles injury in the season opener

I can’t help but think what this season would be like if Berry were here. Do the Chiefs go on that losing streak? Does the defense give up 38 points to Josh “Tom Brady” McCown?

I know there’s no point in wondering about all that. It’s not going to change anything. Berry isn’t coming back his injury this year (although I have thought about what an amazing surprise entrance that would be if he did — like Sting returning to WCW in 1997).

For more, check out the entire entry at Arrowhead Pride.

Minnesota Vikings: Star rookie running back Dalvin Cook’s ACL injury

The Minnesota offense is doing well without Cook thus far, certainly. But having #33 in the lineup would make this offense even more dynamic than it already is. There aren’t very many things that I would change about this season thus far for the purple and gold, but if I got the chance to change one thing, we’d still have a healthy Dalvin Cook on the field.

For more, check out the entire entry at Daily Norseman.

New Orleans Saints: They got infected with the dreaded injury bug

The injury to Alex Okafor would be the top thing many would love to take back. Injuries in general are horrible, as the Saints have lost the likes of Nick Fairley, Alex Anzalone, Delvin Breaux, Coby Fleener, A.J. Klein, Nate Stupar, and Zach Strief - to name a few. Fairley’s heart diagnosis was practically a godsend, because the alternative would have been much worse. Klein’s absence is going to be felt, and at this point of the season, there’s not much the Saints can do to to compensate for his loss. Okafor out of the mix has been noticeable on the opposite end of Cam Jordan.

For more, check out the entire entry at Canal Street Chronicles.

If only this one game had gone differently ...

These teams are all still feeling the effects of the outcome or a decision in one game.

Carolina Panthers: Losing to the Bears (wait, that really happened?!)

I’m talking about the stink job the Panthers laid in Chicago back in Week 7. If the Panthers would have won that game (like they should have), they would be 11-3 right now instead of 10-4, would have a playoff spot guaranteed, and would be ahead of the Saints in the NFC South race. This season would be much more fun to talk about had the Panthers not lost that no-good, stupid, rotten, cursed game.

And worst of all - we lost to John Fox, y’all.

For more, check out the entire entry at Cat Scratch Reader.

Dallas Cowboys: Hanging Chaz Green out to dry against the Falcons

The Cowboys insistence on playing Chaz Green at left tackle for the injured Tyron Smith in the game against the Falcons, then giving him absolutely no help, even after it was obvious he was getting destroyed. Not only did this decision lose that game, but the Cowboys were not the same team for the next few games. Only now do they seem to have recovered from that calamity.

For more, check out the entire entry at Blogging the Boys.

New York Giants: Early loss to the Eagles sucked the life out of them

For me, though, the biggest thing I would change is the Week 3 loss to the Eagles.

Desperate for a win at 0-2, the Giants played the first three quarters as though the season was already over, trailing, 14-0, entering the final quarter. Then, a 24-point outburst that saw them take a pair of fourth-quarter leads.

This felt like the kind of sudden turnaround that can change a season. Until it fell apart, with the Giants getting a crushing defeat instead of an uplifting victory.

For more, check out the entire entry at Big Blue View.

Washington: A QB sneak against the Saints could’ve saved their season

When inches are all that you need, why not the keeper? Put a different guy back there for that one play if you are that afraid of getting Kirk [Cousins] hurt. I don’t believe that is the issue, because I don’t believe Kirk would ever make that an issue. If you are worried about signaling to the other team what your intentions are based on personnel, that is ridiculous. The other team knows you need a few inches. It is about to be a fight for those inches. Put your best fighters in, but for God’s sake...get those inches.

For more, check out the entire entry at Hogs Haven.

It all comes back to this position

These teams should’ve made better choices this offseason.

Arizona Cardinals: How they built their OL

The Cardinals had one season of what you could call success along the offensive line, 2015, and changed out 3/5 of that group. Then in 2017, they changed out 3/5 of the group again moving D.J. Humphries to left tackle and Jared Veldheer to right tackle with only Shipley and Iupati remaining intact.

The most important part of offensive line play is continuity… Something the Cardinals have chosen to change to start every year in the Bruce Arians era.

For more, check out the entire entry at Revenge of the Birds.

Detroit Lions: Not addressing the running game (again)

With Matthew Stafford having one of his most efficient seasons of his career, and a pair of receivers nearly hitting 1,000 yards, it’s tragic to watch the season unfold where your quarterback is left carrying a poor defense with no help from his running game. If the Lions had paid more attention to their pass rush, they’d probably be a lot better off, but if they had paid more attention to their run game they could potentially be much better set up not only in 2017, but for the future.

For more, check out the entire entry at Pride of Detroit.

Green Bay Packers: Being unprepared for secondary injuries

Aaron Rodgers getting hurt is the easy answer — too easy. So the Acme Packing Company crew weighed in on something else they wish they had a mulligan on.

Perhaps no area of the team is as affected as the secondary. Green Bay figured to improve its cornerback depth with the additions of Kevin King and Davon House, but both starters have missed extensive time this season with injuries. After playing in 16 games both seasons in Jacksonville, House was notably hit with the injury bug once again while in Green Bay. It’s almost a curse. Without House and King, the Packers have been exposed for their lack of depth at cornerback behind Damarious Randall. Josh Hawkins has struggled in his sophomore campaign, while Green Bay has shied away from giving reps to undrafted rookies Donatello Brown and Lenzy Pipkins. Early season injuries to Quinten Rollins and the developmental Herb Waters didn’t help the situation, but it’s apparent that talent and veteran experience is needed in this unit and should’ve been addressed heading into the regular season.

For more, check out the entire entry at Acme Packing Company.

Los Angeles Chargers: Not choosing wisely at kicker

Deciding to go with Younghoe Koo over Josh Lambo. That decision alone would have given them at least possibly two extra wins. With a competent kicker, they'd have been a playoff team this year.

For more, check out the entire entry at Bolts from the Blue.

New England Patriots: The new faces at RB haven’t worked out like they hoped

This is an evaluation in hindsight because I absolutely loved what the Patriots did at running back. I loved the signings of Rex Burkhead and Mike Gillislee and thought that they would be able to form one of the best duos in the NFL. Burkhead has battled injuries all season and Gillislee has been a healthy scratch since the bye week. It hasn’t gone according to plan.

If the Patriots could do it again, perhaps they would have retained LeGarrette Blount instead of signing Mike Gillislee. The Patriots have used both players in the same fashion- they’ve been grinders between the tackles, but the coaches refused to throw them the ball to soften the run defense in the box- but Blount was a better fit just based on Gillislee’s inactivity.

For more, check out the entire entry at Pats Pulpit.

What a difference one player makes

No one could have predicted these, but still ...

San Francisco 49ers: Imagine if they had traded for Jimmy Garoppolo in the offseason

It would be mostly guess work to suggest how the 49ers would stand right now if Garoppolo had been starting from Week 1. Of the ten losses, the five single-digit games are clearly toss-ups. The second losses to the Seahawks and Cardinals were by 11 and 10 points, respectively. They are not toss-ups, but they would have been more interesting with Garoppolo in the saddle. That’s seven games right there that could have swung differently, so you’re looking at a team that could at the very least have found themselves at .500, if not better.

It’s all just speculation, but it is interesting to consider as we head toward the offseason. Barring anything unexpected, the 49ers are going to be a popular playoff pick next summer. It will be hard to really qualify them as a sleeper if Garoppolo is starting when training camp arrives.

For more, check out the entire entry at Niners Nation.

Seattle Seahawks: Malik McDowell’s ATV accident set off a chain reaction

The injury to McDowell reportedly while riding an all-terrain vehicle before the season set in motion the eventual trade for Sheldon Richardson. Not trading for Richardson again allows the Seahawks to retain a higher round pick, and in addition keeps Jermaine Kearse in Seattle. While fans and writers alike made a pariah of Kearse after struggling in 2016, he has since performed like his old clutch self for the New York Jets. Preventing the injury to McDowell, like all of these changes, has cascading effects throughout the franchise. With more cap space, better 2018 draft capital, and a receiver we know works well with Russell Wilson, perhaps the 2017 Seahawks end up better off.

For more, check out the entire entry at Field Gulls.

Tennessee Titans: Marcus Mariota taking a step back

Ultimately, I decided that the one thing I would change about the Titans season is the regression we have seen in Marcus Mariota. It has been a brutal year for him, and it has us all wondering what he will look like going forward- especially if there are no changes to the coaching staff. He needs to be running and up-tempo, spread-type offense. Mike Mularkey wants to run a slow, tight offense. Those two things haven’t gelled this season.

For more, check out the entire entry at Music City Miracles.

Can’t complain much, honestly

Oh, the season isn’t going well? Couldn’t be these teams.

Jacksonville Jaguars: Blake Bortles getting bit by that radioactive spider or whatever earlier

Maybe the one thing I’d change is flipping whatever switch went off in Blake Bortles’ head a few months earlier. If he had been playing all season as well as he has the last three weeks, we’d be undefeated. Easily. The early losses to the Tennessee Titans and New York Jets do not happen. The Los Angeles Rams don’t have enough fluke special teams plays in the world to overcome it. And the Arizona Cardinals don’t win on a last-second kick.

For more, check out the entire entry at Big Cat Country.

Philadelphia Eagles: Outside of Carson Wentz’s injury, not much

This Eagles season has been special. It’s simply not every year you start out 12-2 with a real good chance to clinch the No. 1 seed in Week 16.

Even with Wentz out, this team still have a legitimate chance to make a Super Bowl run. Their chances are obviously significant worse without Wentz, but hey, who knows.

For more, check out the entire entry at Bleeding Green Nation.

Los Angeles Rams: The waiting was the hardest part

We had to see a 10-win Cleveland Browns team and an 11-win Jacksonville Jaguars team in 2007. We had to see the Oakland Raiders turn things around last year. We had to constantly look upward at the San Francisco 49ers during their three-year run to the NFC Championship or the Arizona Cardinals who had periods of success under former HC Ken Whisenhunt and current HC Bruce Arians or the Seattle Seahawks who have consistently been a thorn in our sides since 2010.

Year after year after year, we waited. And hoped. And something worth celebrating has finally arrived.

I wouldn’t change anything except for how long we had to wait for it to get here.

For more, check out the entire entry at Turf Show Times.

Josh McCown, the one who got away

Maybe McCown has a future career as the love interest in a Hallmark Christmas movie.

Cleveland Browns: Besides everything? Letting McCown walk

McCown was still under contract with the Browns for 2018, but the Browns opted to let him go. He went on to have a great season by his standards for the New York Jets before succumbing to his annual injury bug. McCown had it rough last year after his injury, but the team could’ve kept him in camp this year to evaluate his health. If they had, there’s no doubt that he would’ve out-shined Cody Kessler, Kevin Hogan, and DeShone Kizer in the quarterback room. Brock Osweiler would’ve been cut right away instead of dragging that mess out for so long. I’d venture to guess that Cleveland would have a handful of wins right now too.

For more, check out the entire entry at Dawgs by Nature.

Denver Broncos: They should have signed an established journeyman QB like Josh McCown

Brock Osweiler - a journeyman quarterback now - was the only quarterback who looked like a functional NFL player out there, but the team never really seemed interested in keeping him as the starter. If they had brought in some other journeyman before training camp, maybe they would have liked that guy more.

Who knows. It’s a lot of woulda, coulda, shoulda, but a functional journeyman guy like a Josh McCown or something, probably would have guided this team into a playoff hunt instead of an eight-game losing streak.

For more, check out the entire entry at Mile High Report.

And all the rest

Like stocking stuffers, here are the ones that don’t fit neatly into a box.

Atlanta Falcons: All the little mistakes that cost them games

I’d erase the penalties which erased the interceptions which might have made a difference in the outcome of multiple games this year. I’d delete the interceptions that came off receivers bobbling and bumbling what should have been obvious catches. I’d terminate Julio Jones’ drops, especially the wide open one in the end zone against the Panthers that might have won that game. And I’d definitely send Steve Sarkisian’s decision to run a jet sweep on 4th and goal against the Patriots into the void.

For more, check out the entire entry at The Falcoholic.

Buffalo Bills: Rick Dennison was the wrong choice for offensive coordinator

Buffalo had Cordy Glenn, Richie Incognito, Eric Wood, John Miller, Jordan Mills and LeSean McCoy in 2016 and 2017 along with Tyrod Taylor. But out goes Anthony Lynn and in comes Dennison and the Bills offense drops to 23rd in scoring (down six points a game) and touchdowns. Instead of 5.3 yards per carry and 164.4 yards per game on the ground, Buffalo is averaging 4.2 yards per carry and 129.1 yards per game on the ground. So why are the same Bills players gaining a yard less on every carry and 35 rushing yards less every game?

Offensive coordinator Rick Dennison came in and changed everything about the offense, but especially changing the blocking assignments and the running game. He turned a successful offense into a bad one.

For more, check out the entire entry at Buffalo Rumblings.

Cincinnati Bengals: The youth movement should have started earlier

The Bengals started the season using none of their new young players. They relied on essentially a hollowed out version of last year’s squad to try and win. It did not go well. If I could change one thing it would be to infuse the youth of this roster into the starting lineup sooner and have prepared them better to succeed.

For more, check out the entire entry at Cincy Jungle.

Miami Dolphins: They didn’t start their season in Week 1 like they were supposed to

According to multiple reports back before Week 1, the Dolphins and the Tampa Bay Buccaneers both asked the league to allow the teams to play their season opening game in a neutral field, rather than postpone it until the shared bye week in Week 11, to avoid the dangers of Hurricane Irma. The league decided that moving the game to the bye week was the best option. That should not have been the answer.

The Dolphins (and Buccaneers) had to play 16 straight weeks this season because of that decision. Miami had to move out to California and spend a week there before playing their Week 2 game against the Los Angeles Chargers. The Dolphins did not have a true home game until Week 5, having to play in London in Week 4, a game which counted as a home game.

For more, check out the entire entry at The Phinsider.

New York Jets: Relying too much on veteran players to help win games

I don’t mind winning 5 to 6 games, but if I could change one thing about this Jets season it would be the wins resulting more from young players developing into foundational pieces than veterans having career years.

For more, check out the entire entry at Gang Green Nation.

Oakland Raiders: John Pagano should’ve been the defensive coordinator all along

John Pagano has pressed all the right buttons since taking Ken Norton Jr.’s place after week 11.

Under Norton, the Raiders gave up 368.2 yards and 24.8 points per game. Since Pagano has taken over, the Raiders have given up 304.75 yards and 19.25 points per game. Right now, that 368.2 yards per game would be good enough for No. 28 in the NFL.

If the Raiders had given up 304.75 yards per game all year, they would be No. 4 in the league. Their points per game under Norton would have them at No. 27 right now and if Pagano had the defense from the beginning of the season, they would be at No. 5.

For more, check out the entire entry at Silver and Black Pride.

Pittsburgh Steelers: They wish they could’ve toned down the drama

While I would love to change the amount of drama this team has experienced both on and off the field, it has done a tremendous job proving the mental toughness of this football team. Kudos to Mike Tomlin and company for keeping the team focused on the task at hand, especially when the outside distractions would have ripped apart an average team.

For more, check out the entire entry at Behind the Steel Curtain.