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spacepanda7 · 3 years

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I know a lot of AUs of AftG/TFC have been done in the Avatar universe, but has anyone done an Avatar: the Last Airbender AU?

Kevin, the Avatar has been missing for 100 years, before he is unwittingly discovered inside an iceberg by estranged waterbender twins Aaron and Andrew and their nonbending cousin Nicky who live in the Southern Water Tribe. (Aaron and Andrew do not give me waterbender vibes, but changing the nations didn't work that well, since either their trips would end up way shorter or the Air Nomads would be the world invaders. Which, no. Oh well, Aaron wants to heal people.) They find out he is the Avatar and reluctantly agree to accompany him to the Northern Water Tribe to learn waterbending. Along the way, they find out the exiled fire nation Prince Nathaniel is hunting the Avatar, in order to regain his honor. He is traveling alongside former General David Wymack, a taciturn man who nonetheless tries to guide and help his ward.

Along the way, they meet some interesting people and new friends including Roland, the leader of the Freedom Fighters, Dan, a young earthbender who Kevin helped break out of prison, and Erik, who leads the Kyoshi Warriors, and also encounter new enemies, including Commander Tetsuji of the Fire Nation. Once they get to the Northern Water Tribe, they meet the waterbending master Chuck. Initially, he wants to make Aaron go into warrior training instead of healing, as he wishes, due to the fact that male waterbenders are drafted to fight. But after a beatdown from Aaron, the Healing master Abby, and the fighting master Betsy (women fight here, they have an option but men have to) he agrees to let Aaron train as a healer. Andrew learns how to fight alongside Avatar Kevin. The Fire Nation invades, Kevin is briefly captured by Prince Nathaniel who Andrew defeats in a few seconds flat, and Commander Tetsuji tries to kill the Moon and is dragged into the Spirit World. Goodbye and good riddance to him.

So, next stop is the Earth Kingdom, where they look for an earthbending master. Eventually they find Katelyn, a young earthbending prodigy who was blinded in an accident as a child, and is therefore overly sheltered by her parents and sneaks out to fight in the Earth Rumbles. She travels with them to teach Kevin earthbending, and despite her disagreements with Kevin and Andrew (Aaron is immediately rather taken with her), she becomes a part of their group. They find out they have a new pursuer, the Crown Prince Riko of the Fire Nation and his two close nonbending friends, Jeremy, a cheerful chi blocker, and Jean, an apathetic swordsman (Knives will be Neil's thing). Meanwhile, Nathaniel and Wymack end up pursued by Riko as traitors, and are forced to go incognito in the Earth Kingdom, taking on the names Kyle (idk, in honor of Kayleigh, okay?) and Neil Josten.

Their paths cross in Ba Sing Se when they meet the conniving leader of the Dai Li, Proust. They tangle with the Dai Li and the incognito Prince Riko who is disguised as Erik, who recently rekindled a romance with Nicky on their way across the Serpent's Pass and was captured shortly after. After Nathaniel and Andrew are captured and thrown into the catacombs together, they talk, during which time Nathaniel expresses remorse for the suffering and personal trauma the Fire Nation inflicted on Andrew. He in turn, reveals that he is only after Kevin due to fear of what his father, Firelord Nathan, would inflict upon both him and Kevin's group if he doesn't obey, saying that while he is attemoting to capture Kevin to prove himself worth keeping alive, he is also trying to keep Kevin and the team out of his father's hands. Andrew tells him to "stop being a martyr". However, after they are freed and encounter Riko and Wymack in the catacombs, Nathaniel appears to change his mind and joins Riko in fighting Andrew, Kevin, and Aaron. Wymack surrenders himself in order to let the others escape. Riko mangles Kevin's left hand and almost kills him but Aaron manages to heal him and Andrew promises to protect him.

The Monsters regroup incognito in the Fire Nation to wait for the Day of Black Sun invasion. The invasion day arrives and everything seems to be going as planned until Kevin, Aaron, Nicky, and Katelyn encounter Riko in the throne room instead of Nathan. Nathaniel confronts his father and escapes to join the Monsters and most of their allies end up captured, though their old Freedom Fighting friends Matt and Allison and the earthbender Dan escape with them. They arrive at the Western Air Temple to recuperate and attempt to think of a new Firebending teacher for Kevin. Nathaniel, who now goes full time as Neil Josten, arrives and offers to help. He is immediately scorned by Kevin and mocked by Aaron and Andrew. However, when the assassin Gorilla (sent by Riko) arrives to kill the Monsters, Neil saves them and they reluctantly accept him. He warms up to the group members one by one, helping Nicky break Erik out of the Boiling Rock and helping Aaron hunt down and kill his brother's former tormentor Drake. While at the Boiling Rock, Jean makes a split second decision to save Neil, who he used to be close friends with, and Jeremy jumps in to help, resulting in their capture. After their "field trips", Neil tentatively earns Andrew's intrigue and Aaron's reluctant acceptance.

The comet arrives and Kevin goes missing. The rest of the monsters find their old mentors including Betsy and Abby, and Neil discovers Wymack as well. They reconcile and he advises them about what to do next. As the comet approaches, Aaron, Katelyn, Nicky, and Erik travel to the airship base to hopefully meet up with Kevin as he confronts Firelord Nathan. Neil and Andrew travel to the Fire Nation to confront Riko. After an extended, tough battle, when all hope seems gone, Kevin manages to hit Nathan, momentarily incapacitating him enough to kill him. Riko challenges Neil to an Agni Kai which he accepts. He is winning until Riko aims lightning at Andrew instead and Neil dives in front of him. Andrew fights Riko and manages to chain him and smash his arm. As a result, he has a psychotic break and kills himself. Andrew heals Neil and yells at him for making himself a martyr. Neil says that he wouldn't have done anything that might result in losing Andrew. He so explains that if he had turned on Riko in the catacombs, he would have been exposed, and his father would have stopped at nothing to break him, including torturing the Monsters. Andrew appears to accept the explanation.

And we know the rest: Kevin is crowned Firelord, and he, Jean and Jeremy, figure out where to go from there. Aaron travels home with Katelyn, Andrew stays to protect Kevin, and Neil stays with him, and Nicky and Erik leave to travel the world. Dan and Matt, and Allison and Renee get together and return home as well. And they live, not happily ever after, but something approaching it.

P.S. a few years later, Kevin goes on a search for his mother Kayleigh.

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ubemango · 3 years

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*gregorian chant* breeding kink c*m inflation kink breeding kink c*m inflation kink breeding kink c*m inflation kink bree

In another universe pups is the ABO fic I never wrote HJDHJDSHJDSHJHJFHJFSD OK so anyway I won’t lie I had to google what cum inflation was and when I saw what I saw.... yes. Ok. It got my brain gears going *rusty noise of gears turning* U know what I mean??? So i was thinking..... ***NSFW WARNING

You see hentai on Namjoon’s laptop one day. You’ve mastered the art of nonchalance, though. So when he comes back from the bathroom and gives you a smile—as if you haven’t gotten a peek into Things That Turn Namjoon On That Don’t Include You—you breathe an internal sigh of relief. Safe.

Except you’ve stopped taking notes and now all you can think about is Namjoon watching porn so brazenly on his laptop. Where he does schoolwork of all places! He could at least just use his phone. Also you’re just a teensy bit wet because cartoon boobs and dick is still conducive to horny hours, even if you are doing something as unsexy as critical writing.

Your study date ends with a simple kiss on the lips because Hoseok’s home this time and you’d rather not taint the living room space while he’s occupying the apartment too. Namjoon slips in a little bit of tongue though, because he’s cheeky like that.

You text Namjoon right when you get home. You lie and say you’re going to sleep early, with the excuse that you have to wake up early for a meeting with your advisor. And when he sends you his good night text, you get to it. Getting ready for bed, turning your night light to the colour red once you’ve settled in.

You have sleuthing to do.

Because the hentai wasn’t just... well there’s no regular hentai, is there? It’s just. There. Being hentai. And what’s Namjoon without an inclination for messy pussies because of—because of—

You close your eyes tight because you can’t believe what you’re about to type into the search bar on your phone.

But first!

Incognito. Whew. The shame of clearing your history would be too much to bear. So when you press enter on cum inflation it isn’t so bad. Especially when all the X-rated websites pop up and your screen just becomes Anime Boobies Galore when you click the first link.

You can’t believe Namjoon had the gall to just leave that website up there on his screen. You’re scrolling down the page and already you’re feeling hot. And it isn’t even because of the fact that you’re skimming through videos of perfect girls getting so cummed up their stomachs literally become distended. Nor is it the thought of Namjoon watching it and enjoying it, either. Rather...

Was he thinking of you when he was watching these videos? Bending your knees up over your shoulders and promising you that he’s saved up all his cum for you? Getting you to drool down your chin, cross-eyed?

(Your hand is down your panties at the third video you come across. You come pretty hard when you see the girl’s pussy literally spew semen from how hard the guy comes inside her. And when you reach post-orgasm clarity you immediately exit the browser, chuck your phone onto the floor, and hope to god sleep overtakes you within twenty seconds.)

The next time you meet up for another study date with Namjoon is the weekend. That’s a good three nights of jacking it off to the same video of a huge dongle fucking a good five buckets of semen inside his girlfriend. And when you settle all your notebooks and laptop down, you immediately go for the kill.

“Do you like anime boobs?”

Namjoon chokes on the water he’s drinking from his bottle. “I—ahem. What, uh... what brought this on?”

“I’ve been watching a lot of hentai so I thought I’d ask,” you clarify.

“Uh-huh,” he says incredulously.

“And you know, it’s just—I liked it. A lot. You know. Just for your information.”

Namjoon blinks. “Are you trying to get at something here?”

“Because I don’t really mind, you know. Porn is porn. And you can like whatever you want. Like as long as it’s nice and consensual,” you ignore him.

“Babe.”

“Like I would never make fun of you because I’m—well I’ve watched Grinch porn before but that was against my own will—“

“Baby,” Namjoon laughs, squishing your cheeks to stop your rambling. “What’s going on?”

“I like h’ntai,” you try to articulate with his hands still keeping your lips pressed in like this.

“I get that. But why?”

Oh god. You don’t even know what you want from this conversation. Maybe the guilt of catching him has caught up to you. Or maybe you also just want to have a distended stomach from having Namjoon bust a fat load inside you.

You take his hands from your face, clutch at them for support. “I saw... Um. What you were watching. The other day.”

“Ah.” You watch Namjoon’s ears turn red. He squeezes your hands right back. “You—damn. I’m sorry.”

“No—!” You clear your throat when it warbles. “N-No... it’s... well I...”

You feel his thumb rub comfort into your skin. He looks like he’s getting ready for a scolding. So when you say, “I actually really liked it and I’ve been watching it every night,” in one breath, Namjoon blinks.

And blinks.

After a solid sixteen seconds of silence, he says: “That’s really hot.”

You both stare at each other. The notebook you laid out for notes sits quietly, waiting.

“You wanna go to your bed—?”

Namjoon nearly dislodges your shoulder when he pulls you up to stand. “Yes we’re going right now.”

Something you’re really thankful for when it comes to Namjoon is how compatible you two are. You can’t count how many times you’ve both just looked at each other, no words to say, but somehow still completely on the same page. It’s like you both have the instinct of the other person ingrained in the part of your brain that deals with intuition.

You’re pretty keen on foreplay most days, but even Namjoon sees you’d rather rip your hair out than not immediately go for the feeling of his dick ramming inside you right at this very second. He laughs when you strip in record time, laying supine on the bed while he undresses.

“What’s gotten into you?” As if he’s not hard himself. He crawls over you with kisses warm on your belly, your breasts. “I have to admit. I really just wanted to fuck today.”

“Oh thank god,” you sigh. You knew something was up the second you realized Hoseok wasn’t home. He probably sexiled himself. You remind yourself to buy him dinner one day for his noble deed. “Just—I’m wet. I think. I just want you inside me, please.”

Namjoon groans. “You’re dangerous.”

“I watched hentai for three nights straight, I’m horny,” you whine in correction.

“You wanna know something? Please don’t laugh.”

“What?” Oh you’re wet alright. Namjoon lines his cock at your hole, slides tight inside. “O-Oh—what?”

“I kind of. I haven’t jacked off since the last time we met,” he says, voice tight. “Thank god you watched that shit because I probably sound crazed right now.”

“Huh?”

He grinds up till his hips meet your ass, and you shiver when the tip of his cock hits just right. “I—I wanted to save my cum for you,” he admits, sweating at his neck, and something clicks inside you, because you were right.

“I thought—about that too—ngh!”

Namjoon fucks you steady now. No more shy thrusts like he always starts off with to gauge your mood. He knows you want it. “Shit. About what, baby?”

“You. A-And... making me full... of you.”

“Oh my god.” He grabs your thighs, opening you wide. Takes a thumb to your clit like he’s on a mission. “Will you come with me? Can you do that?”

Holy fuck you’d do anything for him. So you nod, moaning with every hard thrust he gives you. Your legs threaten to close when he rubs you raw, but he commands with a low voice:

“Open, pups.”

Embarrassingly, that does it. He’s never one to order you around. And knowing he’s purposefully saved you his cum like it’s Christmas come early, you know better than to hinder the process.

Your legs shake when you open wider, feeling the warmth of his cock tenfold. “I’m close,” you cry when he slams into you.

“Feel it here?” He slides a sweaty palm to your abdomen. “Gonna give it to you right there. Make you so full. So pretty. All—mine—!”

You don’t even know if that was your signal. But the thought of him swelling you up like that girl on your screen, her womb so full with cum and promise—

“Joonie!” You shriek, toppling right into red-hot pleasure, clutching at the sheets because it’s too much. You come in waves, and Namjoon rides it with you, bucks into you with one last groan. You feel it, feel his excess warmth coat your insides just like he’d told you, and you pretend you feel your stomach balloon for more space. He rubs a grateful hand on your stomach.

“My little cum dump,” he coos tiredly, and you slap his arm with a laugh.

“Don’t pull out yet.” You slide your arms around his shoulders, bringing his tired form onto you. “Keep me plugged in.”

He laves at your neck. “Oh so now I’m out of line when I say weird shit.”

“I never said it was weird,” you whisper. “I’ll happily house all your semen.”

“Oh my—pfft. Ok. You know what? Show me that video you were watching, I need to know what’s got you like this,” he snorts, and you promise to do it later. You’ll just keep him like this for a little while.

#bts smut #namjoon smut #bts scenarios #ubemango fic #f: pups series #d: pups series

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philip-ks-dick · 3 years

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Philip K. Dick, For Dummies.

I’ve been researching PK.D for a few years now, as he’s my father’s favourite author and I’ve been watching movie and show adaptations of his work for the longest time. I have personally only read the books listed, here’s the order (I think) you should read them in, based on difficulty level and the knowledge you need of the PKD canon to understand the books that follow. This is purely my opinion based on knowledge of the author. by philip-k’s-dick (lol)

Beginner. (These books and stories allow readers to explore Dick’s pet themes and stylistic quirks without falling too far down the rabbit hole)

The Short Stories: Over the course of his life, PKD wrote somewhere in the range of 150 short stories. Naturally, it would be silly of me to dump all of them on you at once, but undeniably, the shorter format allows the big ideas of Dick’s work to come through more clearly, and even the screwier stories conform to relatively coherent shape, making them an excellent jumping off point, especially for an author who wrote almost nonstop throughout his life.

My Favourites:

In The Days of Perky Pat - In this novel, survivors of a global thermonuclear war live in isolated enclaves in California, surviving off what they can scrounge from the wastes and supplies delivered from Mars. The older generation spend their leisure time playing with the eponymous doll in an escapist role-playing game that recalls life before the apocalypse — a way of life that is being quickly forgotten. At the story's climax, a couple from one isolated outpost of humanity plays a game against the dwellers of another outpost (who play the game with a doll similar to Perky Pat dubbed "Connie Companion") in deadly earnest. The survivors' shared enthusiasm for the Perky Pat doll and the creation of her accessories from vital supplies is a sort of mass delusion that prevents meaningful re-building of the shattered society. In stark contrast, the children of the survivors show absolutely no interest in the delusion and have begun adapting to their new life.

(Elements of the story were later incorporated into Dick's novel The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch, written in 1964 and published in 1965, in which a Perky Pat simulation game is induced by drugs and miniature models instead. Palmer Eldritch is not a continuation or sequel however.)

What the Dead Men Say - Death is followed by a period of 'half-life', a short amount of time which can be rationed out over long periods in which the dead can be revived—so that, potentially, they can 'live' on for a long time. When attempts to bring back important businessman Louis Sarapis fail, it's clearly more than mere negligence. Sure enough, Sarapis starts speaking from beyond the grave. From outer space, in fact. Yet no-one seems terribly bothered, other than those directly concerned in the plot mechanics. Eventually entire communications networks (phones, TV, radio) are blocked by Sarapis' broadcasts

(Philip's later novel Ubik is a continuation of What the Dead Men Say)

Autofac - Three men wait outside their settlement for an automated delivery truck. Five years earlier, during the Total Global Conflict, a network of hardened automatic factories ("autofacs") had been set up with cybernetic controls that determine what food and consumer goods to manufacture and deliver. Human input had been lost, and the men planned disruption to try to establish communication and take over control. They destroy the delivery, but the truck radios the autofac and unloads an identical replacement, then prevents them from reloading items. They act out being disgusted with the milk delivery and are given a complaints checklist. In a blank space, they write improvised semantic garble—"the product is thoroughly pizzled". The autofac sends a humanoid data collector that communicates on an oral basis, but is not capable of conceptual thought, and they are unable to persuade the network to shut down before it consumes all resources. Their next strategy sets neighbouring autofacs in competition with each other for rare resources and seemingly succeeds, but there is a hidden level

Beyond Lies The Wub - Peterson, a crew member of a spaceship loading up with food animals on Mars, buys an enormous pig-like creature known as a "wub" from a native just before departure. Franco, his captain, is worried about the extra weight but seems more concerned about its taste, as his ship is short of food. However, after takeoff, the crew realizes that the wub is a very intelligent creature, capable of telepathy and maybe even mind control.

Peterson and the wub spend time discussing mythological figures and the travels of Odysseus. Captain Franco, paranoid after an earlier confrontation with the Wub which left him temporarily paralyzed, bursts in and insists on killing and eating the wub. The crew becomes very much opposed to killing the sensitive creature after it makes a plea for understanding, but Franco still makes a meal out of him. At the dinner table, Captain Franco apologises for the "interruption" and resumes the earlier conversation between Peterson and the Wub - which now has apparently taken over the Captain's body

Human Is - Jill Herrick and her husband Lester are in the middle of an argument. Lester deflects his wife’s claim that he is “hideous” with cold indifference. He tells her that he will not allow their child in the house and will have him removed to government custody because he is interfering with his research. Before the distraught Jill can pass this onto their son Gus, Lester gets news that he will be taking a trip to Rexor IV. Despite Jill’s desire to go there and see the planet, Lester insists that he will go alone.

Later Jill tells her brother Frank and she is going to leave Lester. She explains how happy she has been with Lester gone and how he seems to be getting worse every year of their marriage. More cold and more “ruthless,” not to mention the incessant working.

Lester comes home a very different man. He praises Jill’s cooking and expresses disgust with his work on Rexor IV studying toxins. He says he prefers Terra and being home with his wife.

Jill reports these changes to Frank, while Lester is playing in the room with Gus. Frank has Lester brought to a lab for more studies under the guidance of the Federal Clearance agency. Before long they realize that Lester has had his body taken over by a Rexorian.

The Hanging Stranger - The protagonist, Ed Loyce, is a store owner who is disturbed when he sees a stranger hanging from a lamppost, but finds that other people consider the apparent lynching unremarkable.

He finds evidence that alien insects have taken over, manages to get out of town, talks to the police commissioner, who believes him, and after getting all the information about what Ed knows, explains that the body was hung to see if anyone reacted to it, anyone they didn't have control over. He then takes Ed outside and hangs him from a lamppost.

The Commuter - Ed Jacobson is a railway worker at Woking station. His life takes a turn for the worse when his son, Sam, begins experiencing psychotic episodes. When he is selling rail tickets at work, a young woman named Linda asks for a ticket to a destination called Macon Heights that is not listed on any map.

The Minority Report - In a future society, three mutants foresee all crime before it occurs. Plugged into a great machine, these "precogs" allow a division of the police called Precrime to arrest suspects before they can commit any actual crimes. When the head of Precrime, John Anderton, is himself predicted to murder a man whom he has never met, Anderton is convinced a great conspiracy is afoot

Full Books:

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? - Rick Deckard, a bounty hunter for the San Francisco Police Department, is assigned to "retire" (kill) six androids of the new and highly intelligent Nexus-6 model which have recently escaped from Mars and traveled to Earth. These androids are made of organic matter so similar to a human's that only a posthumous "bone marrow analysis" can independently prove the difference, making them almost impossible to distinguish from real people. Deckard hopes this mission will earn him enough bounty money to buy a live animal to replace his lone electric sheep to comfort his depressed wife Iran. Deckard visits the Rosen Association's headquarters in Seattle to confirm the accuracy of the latest empathy test meant to identify incognito androids. Deckard suspects the test may not be capable of distinguishing the latest Nexus-6 models from genuine human beings, and it appears to give a false positive on his host in Seattle, Rachael Rosen, meaning the police have potentially been executing human beings. The Rosen Association attempts to blackmail Deckard to get him to drop the case, but Deckard retests Rachael and determines that Rachael is, indeed, an android, which she ultimately admits.

Clans of the Alphane Moon - War between Earth and insectoid-dominated Alpha III ended over a decade ago. (According to the novel, "Alphane" refers to the nearest star to our own system, Alpha Centauri). Some years after the end of hostilities, Earth intends to secure its now independent colony in the Alphane system, Alpha III M2. As a former satellite-based global psychiatric institution for colonists on other Alphane system worlds unable to cope with the stresses of colonisation, the inhabitants of Alpha III M2 have lived peacefully for years. But, under the pretence of a medical mission, Earth intends to take their colony back.

Against this background, Chuck Rittersdorf and his wife Mary are separating. Although they think they are going their separate ways, they soon find themselves together again on Alpha III M2. Mary travels there through government work, Chuck sees it as a chance to kill Mary using his remote control simulacrum. Along the way he is guided by his Ganymedean slime mould neighbour Lord Running Clam and Mary finds herself manipulated by the Alphane sympathiser, comedian Bunny Hentman.

The Man in the High Castle - In 1962, 15 years after Imperial Japan and Nazi Germany have won World War II, Robert "Bob" Childan owns an Americana antique shop in San Francisco, California (located in the Japanese-occupied Pacific States of America), which is most commonly frequented by the Japanese, who make a fetish of romanticized American cultural artifacts. Childan is contacted by Nobusuke Tagomi, a high-ranking Japanese trade official, who is seeking a gift to impress a visiting Swedish industrialist named Baynes. Childan's store is stocked in part with counterfeit antiques from the Wyndam-Matson Corporation, a metalworking company. Frank Frink (formerly Fink), a secretly Jewish-American veteran of World War II, has just been fired from the Wyndam-Matson factory, when he agrees to join a former co-worker to begin a handcrafted jewellery business. Meanwhile, Frink's ex-wife, Juliana, works as a judo instructor in Canon City, Colorado (in the neutral buffer zone of Mountain States), where she begins a sexual relationship with an Italian truck driver and ex-soldier, Joe Cinnadella. Throughout the book, many of these characters frequently make important decisions using prophetic messages they interpret from the I Ching, a Chinese cultural import. Many characters are also reading a widely banned yet extremely popular new novel, The Grasshopper Lies Heavy, which depicts an alternate history in which the Allies won World War II in 1945, a concept that amazes and intrigues its readers.

Frink reveals that the Wyndam-Matson Corporation has been supplying Childan with counterfeit antiques, which works to blackmail Wyndam-Matson for money to finance Frink's new jewelry venture. Tagomi and Baynes meet, but Baynes repeatedly delays any real business as they await an expected third party from Japan. Suddenly, the public receives news of the death of the Chancellor of Germany, Martin Bormann, after a short illness. Childan tentatively, on consignment, takes some of Frink's "authentic" new metalwork and attempts to curry favour with a Japanese client, who surprisingly considers Frink's jewelry immensely spiritually alive. Juliana and Joe take a road trip to Denver, Colorado and Joe impulsively decides they should go on a side-trip to meet the mysterious Hawthorne Abendsen, author of The Grasshopper Lies Heavy, who supposedly lives in a guarded fortress-like estate called the "High Castle" in Cheyenne, Wyoming. Soon, Joseph Goebbels is announced as the new German Chancellor.

Intermediate. (These are the books to pick up once you have the basics of what makes a PKD novel down. They’re obtuse enough to hit a little heavier, but don’t provide the full dose of surrealism Dick was capable of serving up. This is also good spot to jump in if you’ve experienced weird fiction before.)

Flow My Tears, The Policeman Said - The novel is set in a dystopian version of 1988, following a Second Civil War which led to the collapse of the United States' democratic institutions. The National Guard ("nats") and US police force ("pols") reestablished social order through instituting a dictatorship, with a "Director" at the apex, and police marshals and generals as operational commanders in the field. Resistance to the regime is largely confined to university campuses, where radicalized former university students eke out a desperate existence in subterranean kibbutzim. Recreational drug use is widespread, and the age of consent has been lowered to twelve. The black population has almost been rendered extinct. Most commuting is undertaken by personal aircraft, allowing great distances to be covered in little time.

The novel begins with the protagonist, Jason Taverner, a singer, hosting his weekly TV show which has an audience of 30 million viewers. His special guest is his girlfriend Heather Hart, also a singer. Both Hart and Taverner are "Sixes", members of an elite class of genetically engineered humans. While leaving the studio, Taverner is telephoned by a former lover, who asks him to pay her a visit. When Taverner arrives at her apartment, the former lover attacks him by throwing a parasitic life-form at him. Although he manages to remove most of the life-form, parts of it are left inside him. After being rescued by Hart, he is taken to a medical facility.

Waking up the following day in a seedy hotel with no identification, Taverner becomes worried, as failure to produce identification at one of the numerous police checkpoints would lead to imprisonment in a forced labor camp. Through a succession of phone calls made from the hotel to colleagues and friends who now claim not to know him, Taverner establishes that he is no longer recognized by the outside world. He soon manages to bribe the hotel's clerk into taking him to Kathy Nelson, a forger of government documents. However, Kathy reveals that both she and the clerk are police informants, and that the lobby clerk has placed a microscopic tracking device on him. She promises not to turn Taverner over to the police on the condition that he spend the night with her. Although he attempts to escape, Kathy confronts him again after he has successfully passed a police checkpoint using the forged identity cards. Feeling in her debt, he accompanies Kathy to her apartment block, where Inspector McNulty, Kathy's police handler, is waiting. McNulty has located Taverner via the tracking device the hotel lobby clerk placed on him, and instructs Taverner to come with him to the 469th Precinct police station so that further biometric identity checks can be performed.

Time out of Joint - Ragle Gumm lives in the year 1959 in a quiet American suburb. His unusual profession consists of repeatedly winning the cash prize in a local newspaper contest called "Where Will The Little Green Man Be Next?". Gumm's 1959 has some differences from ours: the Tucker car is in production, AM/FM radios are scarce to non-existent, and Marilyn Monroe is a complete unknown. As the novel opens, strange things begin to happen to Gumm. A soft-drink stand disappears, replaced by a small slip of paper with the words "SOFT-DRINK STAND" printed on it in block letters. Intriguing little pieces of the real 1959 turn up: a magazine article on Marilyn Monroe, a telephone book with non-operational exchanges listed and radios hidden away in someone else's house. People with no apparent connection to Gumm, including military pilots using aircraft transceivers, refer to him by name. Few other characters notice these or experience similar anomalies; the sole exception is Gumm's supposed brother-in-law, Victor "Vic" Nielson, in whom he confides. A neighborhood woman, Mrs. Keitelbein, invites him to a civil defense class where he sees a model of a futuristic underground military factory. He has the unshakeable feeling he's been inside that building many times before.

Confusion gradually mounts for Gumm. His neighbor Bill Black knows far more about these events than he admits, and, observing this, begins worrying: "Suppose Ragle [Gumm] is becoming sane again?" In fact, Gumm does become sane, and the deception surrounding him (erected to protect and exploit him) begins to unravel

Ubik - By the year 1992, humanity has colonized the Moon and psychic powers are common. The protagonist, Joe Chip, is a debt-ridden technician working for Runciter Associates, a "prudence organization" employing "inertials"—people with the ability to negate the powers of telepaths and "precogs"—to enforce the privacy of clients. The company is run by Glen Runciter, assisted by his deceased wife Ella who is kept in a state of "half-life", a form of cryonic suspension that allows the deceased limited consciousness and ability to communicate. While consulting with Ella, Runciter discovers that her consciousness is being invaded by another half-lifer named Jory Miller

Difficult. (This section comes with a caveat: within these novels you will encounter numerous hallucinations, drug trips, an entire trilogy about gnostic spirituality and mental illness, and more than a little unabashed nightmare fuel. It’s normal to get tangled up in what goes on in these books. It’s also normal to be weirded out. But with proper grounding, you’ll make it though with your faculties intact. Probably.)

The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch - The story begins in a future world where global temperatures have risen so high that in most of the world it is unsafe to be outside without special cooling gear during daylight hours. In a desperate bid to preserve humanity and ease population burdens on Earth, the UN has initiated a "draft" for colonizing the nearby planets, where conditions are so horrific and primitive that the unwilling colonists have fallen prey to a form of escapism involving the use of an illegal drug (Can-D) in concert with "layouts." Layouts are physical props intended to simulate a sort of alternative reality where life is easier than either the grim existence of the colonists in their marginal off-world colonies, or even Earth, where global warming has progressed to the point that Antarctica is prime vacation resort territory. The illegal drug Can-D allows people to "share" their experience of the "Perky Pat" (the name of the main female character in the simulated world) layouts. This "sharing" has caused a pseudo-religious cult or series of cults to grow up around the layouts and the use of the drug.

Up to the point where the novel begins, New York City-based Perky Pat (or P.P.) Layouts, Inc., has held a monopoly on this product, as well as on the illegal trade in the drug Can-D which makes the shared hallucinations possible.

The novel opens shortly after Barney Mayerson, P.P. Layouts' top precog, has received a "draft notice" from the UN for involuntary resettlement as a colonist on Mars. Mayerson is sleeping with his assistant, Roni Fugate, but remains conflicted about the divorce, which he himself initiated, from his first wife Emily, a ceramic pot artist. Meanwhile, Emily's second husband tries to sell her pot designs to P.P. Layouts as possible accessories for the Perky Pat virtual worlds—but Barney, recognizing them as Emily's, rejects them out of spite.

A Scanner Darkly - When performing his work as an undercover agent, Arctor goes by the name "Fred" and wears a "scramble suit" that conceals his identity from other officers. Then he is able to sit in a police facility and observe his housemates through "holo-scanners", audio-visual surveillance devices that are placed throughout the house. Arctor's use of the drug causes the two hemispheres of his brain to function independently or "compete". When Arctor sees himself in the videos saved by the scanners, he does not realize that it is him. Through a series of drug and psychological tests, Arctor's superiors at work discover that his addiction has made him incapable of performing his job as a narcotics agent. They do not know his identity because he wears the scramble suit, but when his police supervisor suggests to him that he might be Bob Arctor, he is confused and thinks it cannot be possible.

Donna takes Arctor to "New-Path", a rehabilitation clinic, just as Arctor begins to experience the symptoms of Substance D withdrawal. It is revealed that Donna has been a narcotics agent all along, working as part of a police operation to infiltrate New-Path and determine its funding source. Without his knowledge, Arctor has been selected to penetrate the organization. As part of the rehab program, Arctor is renamed "Bruce" and forced to participate in cruel group-dynamic games, intended to break the will of the patients

(If this one seems difficult to wrap your mind around, that's because its a fictionalized account of real events, and you may need to read about Philip's life at the time to understand the autobiographical nature of the book.)

The VALIS Trilogy

(Fictionalized account of religious experiences in PKD’s life.)

VALIS - In March, 1974, Horselover Fat (the alter-personality of Philip K. Dick) experiences visions of a pink beam of light that he calls Zebra and interprets as a theophany exposing hidden facts about the reality of our universe, and a group of others join him in researching these matters. One of their theories is that there is some kind of alien space probe in orbit around Earth, and that it is aiding them in their quest; it also aided the United States in disclosing the Watergate scandal and the resignation of Richard Nixon in August, 1974. Kevin turns his friends onto a film called Valis that contains obvious references to revelations identical to those that Horselover Fat has experienced, including what appears to be time dysfunction. The film is itself a fictional account of an alternative-universe version of Nixon ("Ferris F. Fremount") and his fall, engineered by a satellite called valis. (The plot of the fictitious film Valis was that of Dick's then-unpublished novel Radio Free Albemuth.) In seeking the film's makers, Kevin, Phil, Fat, and David—now calling themselves the Rhipidon Society—head to an estate owned by popular musician Eric Lampton and his wife Linda. They decide the goal that they have been led toward is Sophia Lampton, who is two-years old and the Messiah or incarnation of Holy Wisdom (Pistis Sophia) anticipated by some variants of Gnostic Christianity. In addition to healing Phil's schizophrenic personality split, she tells them that their conclusions about valis (which Fat had previously termed "Zebra") and reality are correct, and more importantly, that we should worship, not gods, but humanity. She dies two days later due to a laser accident caused by Brent Mini. Undeterred, Fat (who has now resurged) goes on a global search for the next incarnation of Sophia.

Dick also offers a rationalist explanation of his apparent theophany, acknowledging that it might have been visual and auditory hallucinations from either schizophrenia or drug addiction sequelae.

Characters:

Phil (Philip K. Dick): Narrator (first person), science fiction writer, author of Man in the High Castle, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, and Three Stigmata.

Horselover Fat: Narrator (third person), a schizophrenic modality of Phil himself. (Philip in Greek means "fond of horses"; dick is German for "fat".)

Gloria Knudson: Suicidal friend of Fat's who Fat is unable to save.

Kevin: Cynical friend of Fat's whose cat died running across the street, based on K. W. Jeter.

Sherri Solvig: Church-going friend of Fat's, eventually dies from lymphatic cancer.

David: Catholic friend of Fat's, based on Tim Powers.

Eric Lampton: Rock star, screenwriter, actor, a. k. a. "Mother Goose"; a fictionalised version of David Bowie.

Linda Lampton: Actress, wife of Eric Lampton.

Brent Mini: Electronic composer, a fictionalised version of Brian Eno.

Sophia Lampton: Two-year-old child (personalised incarnation of Holy Wisdom within some variants of Gnosticism), said to be the daughter of Linda Lampton and valis and the "Fifth Savior".

The Divine Invasion - After a fatal car accident on Earth, Herb Asher is placed into cryonic suspension as he waits for a spleen replacement. Clinically dead, Herb experiences lucid dreams while in suspended animation and relives the last six years of his life.

In the past, Herb lived as a recluse in an isolated dome on a remote planet in the binary star system, CY30-CY30B. Yah, a local divinity of the planet in exile from Earth, appears to Herb in a vision as a burning flame, and forces him to contact his sick female neighbor, Rybys Rommey, who happens to be terminally ill with multiple sclerosis and pregnant with Yah's child.

With the help of the immortal soul of Elijah, who takes the form of a wild beggar named Elias Tate, Herb agrees to become Rybys's legal husband and father of the unborn "savior". Together they plan to smuggle the six-month pregnant Rybys back to Earth, under the pretext of seeking help for Rybys' medical condition at a medical research facility. After being born in human form, Yah plans to confront the fallen angel Belial, who has ruled the Earth for 2000 years since the fall of Masada in the first century CE. Yah's powers, however, are limited by Belial's dominion on Earth, and the four of them must take extra precautions to avoid being detected by the forces of darkness.

Things do not go as planned. "Big Noodle", Earth's A.I. system, warns the ecclesiastical authorities in the Christian-Islamic church and Scientific Legate about the divine "invasion" and countermeasures are prepared. A number of failed attempts are made to destroy the unborn child, all of them thwarted by Elijah and Yah. After successfully making the interstellar journey back to Earth and narrowly avoiding a forced abortion, Rybys and Herb escape in the nick of time, only to be involved in a fatal taxi crash, probably due to the machinations of Belial. Rybys dies from her injuries sustained in the crash, and her unborn son Emmanuel (Yah in human form) suffers brain damage from the trauma but survives. Herb is critically injured and put into cryonic suspension until a spleen replacement can be found. Baby Emmanuel is placed into a synthetic womb, but Elias Tate manages to sneak Emmanuel out of the hospital before the church is able to kill him.

Six years pass. In a school for special children, Emmanuel meets Zina, a girl who also seems to have similar skills and talents, but acts as a surrogate teacher to Emmanuel. For four years, Zina helps Emmanuel regain his memory (the brain damage caused amnesia) and discover his true identity as Yah, creator of the universe.

When he's ready, Zina shows Emmanuel her own parallel universe. In this peaceful world, organized religion has little influence, Rybys Rommey is still alive and married to Herb Asher, and Belial is only a goat kid living in a petting zoo.

In an act of kindness, Zina and Emmanuel liberate the goat-creature from his cage, momentarily forgetting that the animal is Belial. The goat-creature finds Herb Asher and attempts to retain control of the world by possessing him and convincing him that Yahweh's creation is an ugly thing that should be shown for what it really is. Eventually Herb is saved by Linda Fox, a young singer whom he loves and who is his own personal Savior; she and the goat-creature meet and she kills it, defeating Belial. He finally discovers that this meeting happens over again for everyone in the world, and whether they choose Belial or their Savior decides if they find salvation.

Characters:

Herb Asher: audio engineer

Rybys Rommey: mother of Emmanuel, sick with MS

Yah: Yahweh

Elias Tate: Incarnation of Elijah

Emmanuel (Manny): Yah incarnated in human form

Zina Pallas: Shekhinah

Linda Fox: singer, songwriter, Yetzer Hatov

Belial: Yetzer Hara

Fulton Statler Harms: Chief prelate of the Christian-Islamic Church (C.I.C), Cardinal of the Roman Catholic Church

Nicholas Bulkowsky: Communist Party Chairman, Procurator maximus of the Scientific Legate

VALIS: agent of Yahweh, disinhibiting stimulus

The Transmigration of Timothy Archer - Set in the late 1960s and 1970s, the story describes the efforts of Episcopal Bishop Timothy Archer, who must cope with the theological and philosophical implications of the newly discovered Gnostic Zadokite scroll fragments. The character of Bishop Archer is loosely based on the controversial, iconoclastic Episcopal Bishop James Pike, who in 1969 died of exposure while exploring the Judean Desert near the Dead Sea in the West Bank.

As the novel opens, it is 1980. On the day that John Lennon is shot and killed, Angel Archer visits the houseboat of Edgar Barefoot, (a guru based on Alan Watts), and reflects on the lives of her deceased relatives. During the sixties, she was married to Jeff Archer, son of the Episcopal Bishop of California Timothy Archer. She introduced Kirsten Lundborg, a friend, to her father-in law, and the two began an affair. Kirsten has a son, Bill, from a previous relationship, who has schizophrenia, although he is knowledgeable as an automobile mechanic. Tim is already being investigated for his allegedly heretical views about the Holy Ghost.

Jeff commits suicide due to his romantic obsession with Kirsten. However, after poltergeist activity, he manifests to Tim and Kirsten at a seance, also attended by Angel. Angel is skeptical about the efficacy of astrology, and believes that the unfolding existential situation of Tim and Kirsten is akin to Friedrich Schiller's German Romanticism era masterpiece, the Wallenstein trilogy (insofar as their credulity reflects the loss of rational belief in contemporary consensual reality).

The three are told that Kirsten and Tim will die. As predicted, Kirsten loses her remission from cancer, and also commits suicide after a barbiturate overdose. Tim travels to Israel to investigate whether or not a psychotropic mushroom was associated with the resurrection, but his car stalls, he becomes disoriented, falls from a cliff, and dies in the desert.

On the houseboat, Angel is reunited with Bill, Kirsten's son who has schizophrenia. He claims to have Tim's reincarnated spirit within him, but is soon institutionalized. Angel agrees to care for Bill, in return for a rare record (Koto Music by Kimio Eto) that Edgar offers her.

The Transmigration of Timothy Archer is one of Dick's most overtly philosophical and intellectual works. While Dick's novels usually employ multiple narrators or an omniscient perspective, this story is told in the first person by a single narrator: Angel Archer, Bishop Archer's daughter-in-law.

Characters:

Angel Archer: Narrator, manager of a Berkeley record store, widow of Jeff Archer.

Timothy Archer: Bishop of California; father of the late Jeff Archer and father-in-law of Angel. Dies in Israel, searching for psychotropic mushroom connected with Zadokite sect. Based on James Albert Pike, Dick's personal friend, who was an American Episcopalian bishop.

Kirsten Lundborg: Timothy Archer's secretary and lover. Dies from barbiturate overdose after loss of remission from cancer.

Bill Lundborg: Kirsten's son who has schizophrenia, and who is obsessed with cars.

Edgar Barefoot: Houseboat guru, radio personality, lecturer. Based on Alan Watts.

Jeff Archer: Son of Timothy Archer, and deceased husband of Angel. A professional student who was romantically obsessed with Kirsten.

Thank you, if you read all of this. it took me six hours today to write this all

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cathrrrine · 3 years

Text

RUN | Pietro x Reader

Originally from my Wattpad

CHAPTER 18: SAFE HOUSE

—

A/N: I hope you guys like this one ! I just wanted to add a little bit of fluff after all that angst-fest. Happy reading my loves! :)

———

"Enigma." I mumbled, the strange woozy feeling in my chest expanding as I shifted in my car seat to turn to Pietro.

"What?"

"I figured it out. I'm your enigma. Everyone has one." There was a lightness to my words as I said them and oddly enough, I didn't really mind. "You said you couldn't figure me out, therefore I'm your enigma."

I could see his hands on the wheel tighten just a little bit. The whole car ride, I'd been observing him. I just couldn't get his words out of my head.

You're driving me crazy, Y/N.

My head felt like it was about to explode by the sheer amount of force it took for me to figure out what he really meant. I felt...perplexed. I was wracking my entire brain out by trying to decipher the whole point of our previous conversation. Why did I drive him crazy? Why did he feel the need to tell me that?

Why did I feel like I should trust him?

"My enigma?" He scoffed, throwing a playful, cocky look my way. "You are nothing close to anything I'd call mine."

I rolled my eyes, "You know, it's no wonder you've got a head full of grey hair, you grouch."

"Hey!" He gasped, genuinely shocked at my comment. "I am most definitely not a grouch."

His accent made his reaction much better than I could've imagined. The way he rolled his R's made me laugh a little, so I copied it just for kicks, the letter teetering on the edge of my tongue. "Yep, a grouch would most definitely say that."

I scanned his face for any signs of annoyance, waiting to see if my words left any impression on him. Instead, I saw his expression grow heavier. I'd miss it if I blinked, but I swore I saw a flash of that same expression he wore when he confronted me before in my cell. Seriously, I have got to figure him out, and soon. Before I'm too vulnerable.

"We're here."

I turned around, looking out of the window to see the building I'd been dreading to return to. My heart felt like it had been dipped in acid and encased in lead. Suddenly, I knew why Pietro grew quiet.

Getting out of the facility had been fun, exhilarating almost. Steve had helped me escape just as he promised and left me with Pietro in the garage, handing him the car keys and giving him strict instructions to drive away while remaining incognito.

Pietro had a dazed look on his face then, part-confusion and part-anxiety, but I knew that we had one thing in similar; roguery in our veins. Pietro is a little troublemaker, I had mused as I eyed his way-too-giddy movements. He had no trouble following his Captain's orders, he was eager almost.

I told Steve that we could hide in an old safe house of mine, a tiny studio located somewhere in a sketchy town that was close to the facility so it was reachable by car, but far enough so that it wouldn't be a problem if any of his teammates were to come looking. At least we'd have enough time to escape if they did.

The last time I'd been here had been 2 years ago. Back when I thought I was still running from The Winter Soldier. Everything the Captain had revealed to me made me want to throw up. How else were you supposed to feel when someone told you that you'd been running and hiding for years, from a ghost? I felt like I'd been on an unprompted wild goose chase, except that instead of chasing the 'goose', I'd been chased by it. What a joke.

"You alright?"

Pietro raised an eyebrow, nothing but that disgusting kindness in his eyes. I wanted to strangle him right then and there. Was he offering me pity?

I threw him a half-hearted scowl, "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I'm just asking. This can't be easy for you, no?"

His words hit me like a truck, and the realisation that he wasn't offering me pity, but simply just inquiring, soon came after. It was an odd question to be asked. I'd rarely been offered that luxury, of someone caring enough to ask if you were alright or not. It felt weird to be on the receiving end of that kind of sincerity, something I thought only existed out of my own realm. Yet here I was, trying to figure out the answer to his question.

I shook my head in an effort clear my thoughts, sort of like an etch-a-sketch. "I've been through worse."

We entered the building quietly, ignoring the looks thrown our way from a few bystanders. It was a rather rundown building, just as I had remembered it to be. I'd never made company with any of the people who live here, because how could I have? What kind of shit assassin would do that?

"They must not be used to new faces, huh?" Pietro tried—and failed—to ignore the man eyeing us from our right, clearly uncomfortable with the unwanted staring.

"I'd assume not. It's a pretty small town."

Pietro cleared his throat, "I see."

He looked a little uneasy, shifting from foot to foot. I followed his line of gaze and oh my god, the man was still staring.

"What the fuck are you looking at?" I snarled. He scurried away immediately, eyes averting from us either in shock or in fear. Though it was most likely the latter, considering the way he kept looking back with wild eyes to see if we would chase him down.

I turned back to my speedster companion, and sure enough, he looked much better than he did before. "It's fine, he's just a creep."

He nodded, "I was never fond of creeps."

We climbed up the flight of stairs that lead to the studio apartment, silent the whole way up with Pietro taking in his surroundings and with me being a bit preoccupied with the thoughts swimming in my head. Memories from my past kicked in violently, and I tried to swallow them down.

"Is this it?" He said as I stopped in front of a tattered door with the number 42 on top of it, pointing to it with his right hand.

"Yep." I walked closer to the door, reaching up to the number 4 and trying to detach it from the wall. Apparently though, it was too high for me, sitting just at the tip of my fingers. Either someone had moved it higher, or I'd grown shorter since

Heels. I'd worn my goddamn heels when I last set this thing up. I'd have slapped myself by now if my hands weren't occupied.

Annoyed, I groaned and stood on the tip of my toes. Just a bit more.

"Here."

My breath caught in my throat as I felt his voice reverberating through his chest which was now level to my head. Pietro came up behind me with his taller stature, his height enabling him to reach for the 4 in less than a second, his hand brushing against mine in the process. I blinked, hard, trying to steady myself and grab hold of my thoughts. I felt my face grow hot, warmth spreading through my skin like fire.

I tried not to make it obvious, how much his skin contact had bothered me. I felt stupid for making such a big deal out of it, and even more so that it was caused by him. What the hell? My throat felt tight, so I cleared it with a cough and put on a neutral expression seamlessly.

He backed away as soon as he grabbed hold of the number, twirling it around his fingers with a playful, lopsided smile. Holy shit, I want to rip it off his face. Just punch the living shit out of him.

"Hmm, maybe you're not that useless after all." I scoffed.

He grinned, "Well, if the grouch hadn't been here, it would've taken you all day to reach for this thing."

"Huh, so you admit you are a grouch."

"I didn't—Whatever you say, gnome."

"Wow, look at you." I snickered. "Practicing sarcasm are we? Pray, do tell, was I your inspiration?"

He shook his head in defeat, then he flipped the 4 over, eyebrows meeting in the middle. "What is this anyway? Some sort of secret hidden in here?"

Classic topic changer.

"Yes," I snatched the sign from him. "A very important secret actually."

I turned the thing around and pressed hard on the back of the long vertical line with my nails, breaking the plastic cover. It gave in with a little bit of pressure, and I dug my fingers in to pull out the slender, metal object that I had hidden 2 years ago.

"Ah. The key." Pietro looked impressed.

"Smart, isn't it? It's an old trick that I stole from a woman in Amsterdam."

He moved closer, and I felt myself flinching a little, afraid my body would have the same reaction that it did just a few seconds ago. Luckily, he didn't notice how distressed I was.

"Why bother though, if you weren't going to keep the key with you? Why not just kick down the door or climb in through a window or something?"

There he goes again, with his perpetual rambling.

"We're 4 floors up idiot, climbing in through the window is too risky, people might see and I might fall and die, which is not very ideal, in case you haven't figured that out yet." I inserted the key into the lock and twisted it, hearing the clack of the latch and bolts as they moved.

"Plus, I just did it for fun. I never even knew if I'd come back here or if this building would even still be intact by the time that I did."

He didn't take up the trouble to reply, or even if he did, I didn't hear him. The moment the door opened and I stepped foot inside the room, I was immersed in the haze of my past. A version of my life that was drastically different to the one I had now.

My emotions were all over the place.

A cloud of dust covered the room from years of vacancy, our shoes creating imprints onto the floor. I was surprised no one had broken in for the whole 2 years. Somewhere in the back of my head though, the memory of me threatening the landlord popped up.

"If I come back and I find out that my house got fucked up, I won't hesitate to drive this knife through your chest."

It's a wonder how far a knife and few sharp words could get you.

"Looks like it needs a bit of vacuuming, just a bit. But that's just my opinion."

I fumbled around for something hard and chucked it at Pietro's head with full force, earning an 'Ow!' immediately after.

"What was that for?"

"I've been meaning to throw something at you for a while now." I shrugged, then continued to explore my previous home even further.

It was exactly as I left it, minus the accumulated bits of dirt and the herd of dust bunnies. I walked to the small kitchen space, opening the cabinets and finding the slightly dented kettle and the 2 mugs I had kept there, untouched. Then I fished around the drawer beneath it and eventually found the box of—hopefully unexpired—tea packets and some Sweet'N Low's.

My fingers clasped around the faucet knob and turned, waiting for a good minute for running water. "Come on, come on..."

After some violent sputtering and grumbling from the sink, out came the water flow. Yes! I cheered mentally.

Then I turned to the silver-haired grouch, gesturing to the tea packets I held between my fingers. "Care for some tea?"

He shrugged, "Only if you won't poison me."

taglist: @ifilwtmfc

#run pietro x reader #pietro x y/n #pietro maximoff imagine #pietro maximoff #i want this slow burn to end already oh my god #marvel #marvel female reader insert #slow burn enemies to lovers #mcu imagines #avengers age of ultron #marvel reader insert

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remedialpotions · 3 years

Text

all these people think love’s for show

This was written for the 2020 Incognito Elf exchange on the Harry and Ginny Discord for the amazing @katie-with-the-tea. Katie, I hope you have a fantastic holiday! ❤️💚 Special thanks to @thedistantdusk for organizing the event, which is no small feat!

Title taken from "peace" by Taylor Swift, because I am forever basic and proud of it.

ao3

Harry’s not unaccustomed to seeing his face splashed over the front page of the Daily Prophet. It’s a weekly, if not near-daily occurrence, and it has been since the end of the war. They are obsessed with him. They snap photos when he’s out for a pint with Ron or visiting Madam Malkin’s for a new set of robes (because as it turns out, it’s possible to go on the run for nine months at the age of seventeen, live off mushrooms, and still go through a grow spurt). They print speculative editorials every time he has to go to the Ministry - which is frequent, since he works there, though they prefer to disregard that. They run interviews with people he only tangentially knows - the Eyelops employee who once sold him Owl Treats, perhaps, or the Hufflepuff who was Head Boy when Harry was in his first year - who share embellished tales of their interactions with The Chosen One.

At this point, it’s almost weird when they aren’t talking about him.

Mostly, though, he’s managed to shield Ginny from taking the full brunt of it. She’s a hero in her own right, and he knows that a sighting of the two of them together is guaranteed to sell more papers than the Prophet can print in a day. He spent the summer hiding out with her at the Burrow or at Grimmauld Place, which proved effective, and so far, they haven’t missed out on too much. Of course it would be nice to take her out for dinner or even just walk through London holding her hand, but the reality of his life means that isn’t exactly an option. After everything, he’s just happy to be with her at all.

But today, it’s different. Today, when the post owl flies in through the fireplace and drops a fat bundle of newsprint directly onto Harry’s mug of tea, it’s not just his bespectacled face blinking back at him. In fact, the sight before him makes his stomach sink into his shoes.

“Nice,” mutters Ron from across the kitchen table as he uses his wand to siphon up the mess. “All they do is deliver papers all day, you’d think they’d have better aim.” He pauses and narrows his eyes at Harry. “You all right?”

Harry wants to respond, really he does - he knows Ron is prone to assuming the worst when he goes all quiet like this - but maybe Ron should assume the worst, because that’s how it feels. Words are failing him.

The photo, which moves in a terrible, taunting loop upon the page, is from yesterday, when he had been foolish enough to think that he could sneak up to Hogsmeade to see Ginny without being spotted. He followed all of his own unwritten rules, too. They didn’t go to the Three Broomsticks or to Honeydukes, but instead stole away to a secluded grassy knoll just behind the Shrieking Shack, where he believed that its macabre reputation would shield them from prying eyes.

And it had, but he made the mistake of kissing her hello in the middle of High Street (having not seen her in weeks, he hadn’t really been able to help it), and now, taking up the entire front page of the Sunday Prophet, is a long-lens closeup photo of their lips locking together. Over and over and over again.

Harry tosses the paper down onto the table and leans back in his chair. At this very moment, that same paper is surely arriving in the Great Hall, landing on the long wooden tables and making a spectacle of the most precious relationship in his life.

“Fuck’s sake,” laughs Ron, blinking in surprise at the photo. “Not exactly subtle, are they?”

“I should have used the cloak,” Harry mutters, mostly to himself, as Ron picks up the empty mug and carries it over to the stove. “And I should have met up with her somewhere different, I don’t know why I thought I could Apparate to the middle of town on a Saturday afternoon and not get caught - or I should have just stayed home. I should have known better.”

“They’d have got you some other way,” reasons Ron as he refills the mug with boiling-hot tea. “It’s unavoidable at this point, really, innit?”

The fact Ron’s right doesn’t make the truth sting any less. Where Harry goes, photographers follow, and if it was only his life it affected, he could live with it. But Ginny deserves better. Most of the horror Ginny has been through has been his fault, and now that it’s over, she deserves calm and happiness and peace.

If only he could offer that to her.

“How come this never happens to you and Hermione?” Harry asks irritably as Ron plunks the mug down in front of him. “Oh, cheers.”

Ron shrugs and picks up a slice of toast. “It does, occasionally,” he replies around a bite, “if it’s a slow news day. But the difference is that they’re not usually looking for us. They’re always looking for you.”

“And now they’ll be looking for Ginny too.”

Ron nods, morose. “Yeah.”

“Fuck.”

Like he always does, Harry writes to Ginny that afternoon, but today the parchment is filled with apologies, promises to do better, ideas on how they can meet up without being seen. He doesn’t try to reassure her, because there’s nothing to reassure her about: this is his life. There is no sense sugarcoating it; she needs to know what she’s got herself into by being with him.

By the time he’s finished his letter, the sky has gone dark, and he ambles down to the basement kitchen with the intention of sending his letter off with Pigwidgeon. But just as he reaches the staircase, he pauses. He might just be imagining things - it wouldn’t be the first time - but he’s almost positive he’s heard his name just now, coming from the general direction of the fireplace.

“Harry?”

There it is again, louder, more insistent, and alarmingly familiar. His stomach just about leaps into his throat as he thunders down the stairs and darts across the kitchen to the fireplace.

“Ginny!” Indeed, her bright, beautiful face is hovering there above the grate, and the sight of her squeezes his heart with fear. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Well, hello to you too,” she quips, good-naturedly shaking her head.

“How are you doing this?”

“I’m in McGonagall’s office,” she says as though this is something she does every day. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

His stomach turns over. She’s here to chuck him, he’s sure of it. She’s seen the paper and she’s decided that the hassle isn’t worth whatever benefit there is to dating him (if one even exists).

“Oh,” replies Harry, resigned as he drops down to the floor in front of the fireplace. “All right.”

Ginny tilts her head curiously to the side. “You look like someone’s just died,” she observes. “Is everything okay?”

“Well - I - erm - you go first,” he stammers out. “What’d you want to talk about?”

She squints at him, perplexed, then says, “Apparition lessons are starting tomorrow. The thing is, there’s so many people signed up this year - y’know, since we didn’t have them last year at all, it’s sixth and seventh years - that there isn’t room in the Great Hall so we’re doing them in Hogsmeade instead.”

Harry nods, unsure how to respond. If she’s chucking him, this is an odd way to begin the conversation. And if she’s not, then he’s not entirely why it’s so urgent to inform him about her Apparition lessons.

“So since the lessons are in the morning, McGonagall said we could stay in the village for lunch if we wanted to, so you can visit again.” The excitement on her face is painful to behold. “I just didn’t think a letter would make it to you in time, and I really want you there.”

Relief rushes through him - she is definitely not breaking up with him - but it is quickly replaced by guilt, because she looks so happy and so hopeful, and he loves her so much, and he doesn’t want to have to say what he’s about to say.

First, though, he leans forward and kisses her softly on her soot-tinged lips. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Ginny blinks. “Oh.”

“Just, with what was in the paper today-”

“Oh, that,” interjects Ginny. “Yeah, I thought it was ridiculous too-”

Guilt grips tighter at Harry’s chest. “I know, I’m so sorry. I had no idea they were even there, but I should have known to expect it by now-”

“But I still want to really see you tomorrow,” she says, looking earnestly up at him.

“I do too, but…” He lets out a long, slow breath. “It just isn’t a good idea.”

Ginny looks up at him again, an intensity in her eyes this time, and then nods decisively. “Right. I’m coming in there, can you pull me through?”

“Gin - you can’t just leave school-”

“What’re they going to do, expel me? Come on, pull me through.”

Her hand rises up from the grate. Harry grasps it and tugs until she materializes fully in front of him. As she steps out of the fireplace, she brushes off her robes and then drops down onto the cold tile floor beside him. Her right hand slips over his left and pulls it onto her lap, and their fingers entwine together automatically.

“I’ll be honest,” says Ginny, the tip of her thumb rubbing along the back of his. “I didn’t love the picture in the paper.”

“I’m so sorry-”

“Stop apologizing.” Her quiet voice carries immense patience; affection for her bubbles up inside of him. “I didn’t love the picture, and the article was…” She casts her eyes up to the ceiling in search of the right words. “Creative at best. But I also wasn’t surprised by any of it. I’m mostly amazed it hasn’t already happened.”

“That’s because we never used to go anywhere together,” Harry points out, and she nods her agreement. “But Ginny, it’s only going to get worse. There’s always going to be pictures and articles that make things up, it’s just part of my life. I just, I never wanted it to be part of yours.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” says Ginny, “but that’s completely stupid.”

Harry lets out a sputter of startled laughter. “Oh, is it?”

“Of course it’s going to be part of my life,” she tells him, eyes fixed on his, “because I chose to make you a part of my life. I didn’t have to get back together with you, you know.”

Despite himself, Harry laughs again. Somehow Ginny manages to make everything better, easier, lighter. He expected an awful, painful conversation, and instead they’re holding hands and laughing.

“I’ve always known what I was getting myself into,” she goes on. “People talked when we were together last year, too.”

“A little gossip from Romilda Vane is completely different from the Prophet printing things every day - which they’ll do, by the way, now they’ve got pictures of us together.”

Ginny shrugs. “So let them. I mean, if they’re going to do it regardless, then we shouldn’t stop living our lives.”

This is difficult to argue with, but there is still one nagging fear at the back of Harry’s mind, because now he has further proof that Ginny really is in this for the long haul with him. The wizarding world has been watching him since he was eleven, and he doesn’t expect that all of this public attention isn’t going away anytime soon.

“So, what about…” He looks down at their interlocked fingers, studying the way they fit together as though designed that way. “I mean, what if we - erm - got married, and - and had kids?”

Harry forces himself to meet her eyes and finds that same intensity burning there, the thing that kept him going on long, cold, hopeless nights in the tent, the very last thing he saw as he faced his own death.

That, and maybe just the slightest hint of a smile.

“If we have kids?” she repeats softly.

“Yeah, well - you can’t pick who your parents are, can you?”

“Maybe everyone’ll be bored of you by then,” Ginny offers up, inching closer to him and resting her head on his shoulder. “And if not, we’ll deal with it.”

“All right.” Harry angles his face towards hers so that their lips brush. “Just know that I wouldn’t blame you if you decided you’d like a quiet life.”

Ginny’s nose crinkles. “Sounds boring,” she says. “I’d rather have you.”

Their lips meet again, lingering together in soft, gentle kisses, and when Ginny pulls back to catch her breath, Harry realizes he has one last question.

“What’d the article say, anyway? I never even read it.”

Ginny sits up straight. “You haven’t read it?!”

“I was too angry!”

“It was rather brilliant, actually,” she says with relish. “It spoke a lot about what a scarlet woman I am, having had three whole boyfriends in my life-“

“Naturally-“

“But apparently now I’m even worse, because now…” She paused for dramatic effect. “I’m the one you’re cheating on Hermione with.”

Harry laughs and rolls his eyes. “As if Hermione and Ron weren’t just down the road from us?”

“Yeah, well.” Ginny planted a cheerful kiss on his cheek. “Let them say what they want.”

#harry potter #ginny weasley #2020 hinny discord incognito elf exchange #taylor swift

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years

Text

Cross My Heart - CH.03

Pairing: Bodyguard!Dean x Reader; Chuck Shurley x Reader

Summary: After opening up a letter, the life as she knows it, changes forever. Her husband hires Dean Winchester to protect her but is Dean really who he said he was? And is her husband really worried about her safety?

Warnings: A little angst, and sexual tension

WC: 2089

SERIES MASTERLIST

There’s noises coming from outside, she hears the sound of water, hears the sound of oil sizzling in a pan. Y/N smells things too, a smell she makes out as coffee and bacon. Her mouth starts to water and her stomach’s growling.

She opens her eyes to look around, expects to be in the living room but she’s laying flat. Looking around, she sees that she’s in bed. Dean must have carried her back when she fell asleep.

Sitting up, she stretches and yawns, and of course Dean has to walk in on her right in that moment. She rubs at her eyes and looks at him, sees that the corner of his lips tilts up into a smile but then he purses his lips into a thin line, and the frown makes a return on his face.

He’s dressed in casual gear, and she thinks he doesn’t bother with the suits anymore since they have to basically go incognito which is a shame really, because he looks good in suits. Like some kind of a walking Armani ad.

“You’re up,” He says, leans his body against the door frame and crosses his arms.

“At what cost, though,” She groans, she is absolutely no morning person. She stretches some more, making her pj top riding up her stomach.

Dean doesn’t say anything for a long time and when she looks at him, she catches him staring.

She smirks and decides to tease him. She trails her fingers down her top, catches at the seam and pulls it up, just a little.

Dean’s still staring but then he lowers his face, stares at the ground instead and murmurs, “Breakfast is ready, take your time.”

He turns around and leaves right after, but she caught the red of the tip of his ears. It’s so easy to rile him up. She needs to do it more.

Y/N gets dressed and walks out into the living room where Dean’s already sitting at the table. She joins him and he pushes a plate in front of her and a mug of coffee, “Any news?” She asks, wondering if Chuck informed him about any kind of progress.

“No, Mr. Shurley didn’t get in touch yet.”

“But you told him that we’re here?”

“Yes.”

Oh, bodyguard Dean is back.

“Okay,” She says and eats her breakfast in silence.

She offers to clean the dishes afterwards, and Dean excuses himself to go out. Said he needs to check on his car which is parked behind the cabin. She doesn’t really know if he tells the truth because it was too dark to make out anything when they arrived last night, but before she could ask, Dean’s already out of the door.

Y/N’s bored out of her mind so she zaps through the TV channels, and her eyes widened at the entertainment news.

They talk about Chuck and how his home got destroyed.

Well, hello? It’s her home too? There’s not one single mention of her throughout the whole little newsflash.

Frustrated, she turns off the TV and goes out to see what Dean’s doing. Well, she didn’t expect for them to bring a fucking documentary about her but maybe they could acknowledge her either. It’s not hard. Chuck’s not the only one who was living there.

She finds Dean with his head deep in the hood of his car, and she actually has to chuckle at her finding because every time she’d find Chuck, Chuck would have his head in some girl's pussy.

The view of Dean backside is fabulous, so she stares some more. His ass in his jeans is round and firm and oh my god, it gets her all flush and warm.

“What are you doing out here?” His voice startles her.

“How did you know?”

Because seriously, how did he? He still has his head turned away from her and is working on his car.

“I’m always aware of my surroundings, Mrs. Shurley. It’s my job.”

So, she’s back to being Mrs. Shurley.

She walks closer to him, comes to stand beside him as he tilts his head to the side a little and looks at her, “You’re good at what you’re doing, aren’t you?”

Dean shrugs, “It’s really what I can do best.”

“So, your job is to protect me,” Y/N says, lets her fingers skim across the car and Dean comes out of the hood, stands straight up again to listen to her, “But you didn’t sign up to go and hide in the woods with me, why don’t you quit? Clearly this must be boring for you too.”

He takes the cloth and rubs his hands free from grease but he’s not looking at them, his gaze is still on her.

“I worked out that part with your husband already. It was our plan D.”

She frowns, “Plan D? How many plans are there?”

There’s a light chuckle, and Dean takes a step closer, leans down, his face only inches from her as he whispers into her ear, “If I’d tell you, I’d have to kill you.”

She groans and Dean is laughing, takes a step back while he brushes at his forehead with his hand to get off the sweat.

It’s a nice sound. She likes that, likes how it rumbles, likes the bass of it, would definitely like to hear it more often.

“There’s something,” She says and points to her own forehead, telling him with her eyes that he has something on his, and he eyes her suspiciously.

“What?”

“Come here,” She grins, and he listens, takes a step towards her.

When Dean’s close enough, she pulls at his shirt, makes him lean down to her and his gaze on her is intense.

God, his eyes are so green.

She’s still smirking as she swipes at his forehead with her thumb, brushing away the dark grease stain. He’s so close, and she realizes how easy it would be to just lean forward and kiss him. She can’t help but wonder if he would kiss her back. Probably not. He’s too professional. And that makes her think if she’ll ever be able to crack him. Surely, Mr. Bodyguard must have a weakness.

Her hand that was on his forehead travels down his cheek, and she feels the scruff underneath her palm. It prickles but she wouldn’t mind feeling it all over her body.

My god, Y/N, stop! Get a grip! She shakes her head, trying to get the image out of her mind.

Dean blinks and it’s if he’s trying to find his composure either. He clears his throat, “Thanks.” And then he stands up so abruptly to turn around, she wonders if he has gotten a whiplash from it.

“You still haven’t answered my question.” Dean says and closes the hood of his car with a bang that makes her flinch, “Why are you out here? Someone could see you.”

“I’m bored.” She pouts, “Can I use your phone to text my friend?”

Dean raises an eyebrow at her, “What friend?”

“Meg. She’s my bestie.”

“How good of a friend is she?”

“My god, Dean! Meg has nothing to do with this. I swear!”

Dean rolls his eyes and sighs before he takes his phone out of his pocket and unlocks it for her. He hands it over with a warning, “Don’t tell her where you are. Be absolutely vague about what happened.”

“Cross my heart,” She says with a smirk and walks over to sit on the stairs to the porch, where Dean’s still able to see her. She guesses that if he’s willing to give her his phone she at least can be respectful about it and not wander too far with it.

She texts Meg, knows the woman’s number by heart. It’s probably Meg’s lunch time too. At least she hopes so.

Y/N: Hey babe, it’s me, Y/N. I’m texting you from someone else’s phone because my phone is broken.

She lies, Meg wouldn’t believe that her phone was broken in half with Dean’s bare hands anway.

M: Oh my god, I was wondering if you’re okay! I was worried out of my mind!

Y/N: I’m sorry. I wanted to text you but everything happened so fast.

M: Don’t worry, as long as you’re okay. You’re okay right? I heard what happened and then I texted and called but you never read the messages :(

Y/N: Don’t worry about me, I’m okay. Chuck got me a bodyguard and we had to leave for my safety but I’m okay.

M: A bodyguard? *wink wink*

Y/N: Meg, stop.

M: I won’t. Tell me about him. Is he good looking? Is he strong? I bet he’s strong. Oh my god I’m so jealous.

Y/N: I thought you’re dating Anna?

M: I still like dick, though

She has to laugh out loud, which prompts Dean to look at her funny. She clasps a hand over her mouth to laugh some more.

Y/N: Ah, well, yes, he’s big and strong and he has a nice tush.

M: You saw him naked yet?

Y/N: Can we not talk about him?

M: We can but I don’t want to.

Y/N: Fine. No I haven’t why should I?

M: You have got to find a way!

Y/N: Meg, I’m married.

M: Sorry, I just laughed so hard my coffee came out through my nostrils. Your marriage was dead over seven years ago and you know it. Remember you used to ask Chuck for a divorce every week until you completely gave up because he always said no?

Y/N: I actually asked him again three weeks ago.

M: The answer’s no, right? What excuse this time? No time? Some big signing coming up? Another social event that you need to pretend that you’re all lovey dovey?

Meg’s right. Something always comes up because Chuck fears that she’ll walk away with half of what he owns. Honestly, right now she doesn’t even want a single dime. She just wishes to be free again.

Y/N: He thinks I’ll take half of his money.

M: Which you would be entitled to.

Y/N: I don’t want it. I just want to be me again.

M: So while you’re there, maybe flirt with your bodyguard. Live again! I bet he can handle a weapon perfectly. Probably has a big gun. *wink wink*

Y/N: Meg!

M: Shit! My break is over. I need to run. Get in touch again alright? I’m here if you need anything.

Y/N: Thanks, I miss you.

After the conversation, she places the phone on the stairs and Dean sees that she finished so he walks closer, takes his phone and sits down next to her. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” She answers, “Just missing my home and my friend.”

Dean nods, takes his phone back and scans through the texts. She watches him squint his eyes and she blushes.

“Wink wink?”

She snorts.

“I’m big and strong? And have a nice tush?” Dean frowns, “What does a tush even mean?”

Her face feels like it’s on fire, “Can you maybe not read out loud what I wrote?”

“Oh,” Dean clears his throat, “Yeah, sorry. I just,” He starts and then stops when he sees that her face is flushed. “I have to go into town to get some oil for the car, while I’m there, do you need anything?

She sighs and hugs her knees to her chest, “A new identity?”

He chuckles at that, “I’ll see what I can do.” And then he eyes her, “You can also cut your hair a little. So people won’t recognize you.”

Y/N had thought about that too but ugh, it involves her using a scissor and she’s not very good with that. Every time she would try to give herself bangs, she would end up looking absolutely horrific.

Dean pockets his phone back and walks over to his motorcycle. “I’ll be gone one hour tops. Stay inside, okay? If there’s something, get into the bathroom and lock yourself in. It works as a panic room.”

“Okay,” She wants to say more but she doesn’t know what to say. Can she tell him to not go? Tell him that she wants to go with him?

He gives her a warm smile before he puts the helmet over his head and then he revs his engine, drives off before she can even tell him not to leave her alone.

CH.04

@dean-winchesters-bacon @waywardbaby @flamencodiva @maddiepants @notyourtypicalrose @satans-0-spawn @foxyjwls007 @cosicas-cuquis @destielhoneybee @musicalmuffindog1410 @adoptdontshoppets @mariekoukie6661 @4fareader @deansyahtzee @onethirstyunicorn @deans-baby-momma @team-free-will-you-idjiot @sadbitch89 @becs-bunker @weepingwillowphoenix @deanwanddamons @miraclesoflove @atc74 @michellethetvaddict @traceyaudette @olichat @laxe-from-outer-space @thevelvetseries @laphirablack @deansenwackles @winchesterxfamilybusiness @akshi8278 @jensengirl83 @squirrelnotsam @whatareyousearchingfordean @janicho88 @beautifulbowleggedangel @mylovelydame21 @gabavaldman @invisiblexnobodyximportant @vicmc624 @starryeyeseunbyul @parinarain @busy-bee-angel-misska @pansexualgrapes @addbibliophile @cookiechipdough @fandoms-fiend

#cross my heart #dean winchester #dean winchster fic #dean winchester x reader #bodyguard!dean #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nathalie writes

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splendidcas · 5 years

Text

Time to Move On

Pairing: Cas x reader

Summary: takes place after the end of 15x03 (aka the episode where Cas girls go running to Dean with their pitchforks ready). Cas doesn’t know where else to go, so he turns to you.

Warnings: language, sad cas :(

A/N: listen I know this is rushed but I also know all us Cas girls needed this so I got this out as quick as I could. hope it’s therapeutic for yall

You awoke with a jolt, the sound of timid knocking at your door startling you from your slumber. Hand fiddling around under your pillow for your gun, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and tip-toed over to your front door, peering into the peephole to see who the hell would want something from you at 2 in the morning.

As soon as you saw the slumped shoulders of your favorite trenchcoat-wearing angel standing in your doorway, all traces of sleepiness were gone. Beaming, you quickly put your gun away and swung the door open. “Cas!”

Your smile immediately fell as you took in the sight of him. Castiel never looked particularly happy since you’d known him all these years, but you’d never seen him look so defeated. Tired, dark circles hung below his red, teary eyes, his hair flattened against his head in the rain. His clothes, soaked completely through, clung to his body. He looked so very...human.

You immediately pulled him in for a hug, ignoring the rain soaking into your clothes. He clung to you like a child to his mother, desperate for contact and for someone to just care for him. After a moment, you ushered him inside without another word, taking his drenched coats from him before wrapping him in a soft blanket that was hanging on the side of your couch. “Here, sit on the couch and I’ll make you some coffee. And before you say it, I know you don’t need it. But I remember when you were a human that it used to comfort you, and you look like you could use some comfort right about now.”

You didn’t see it, too busy rushing around your kitchen in search of a mug, but a small smile graced his face as he watched you. He was surprised that you remembered such a small detail about him from so long ago. Just being here, in your presence, was already making him feel just a little bit better. Why hadn’t he come to you sooner?

“Alright, Cas,” you said, handing him a steaming mug before plopping down beside him. “What’s going on?”

Castiel sat in silence for a few moments, eyes locked on a spot on the carpet, before he sighed. “I left the Winchesters.”

You quirked a brow in surprise. “Really? Why?”

His eyes flitted back to you, and your heart clenched at the sadness swirling around in them. They had hurt him. No, not they. Dean.

“What the hell did Dean do now?” you demanded.

Cas shook his head. “He’s angry with me.”

“Yeah, what’s new? He’s always angry with you for some bullshit reason. What is it now?”

“He still blames me for his mother’s death. And Jack. Y/N, he can barely look me in the eye. It’s like...I’m dead to him now.” He swallowed thickly before clearing his throat, his fingers anxiously fidgeting around the mug he cradled.

Castiel, though you hadn’t seen him in quite some time, had been keeping you up to date on what was going on with the Winchesters, Jack, and Chuck. He called you frequently, unaware of how deeply you treasured your talks. And you were sick of hearing about how poorly Dean was treating him.

“Cas, look at me.” You waited until he did so, and you placed your hand on his arm. “I want you to understand something. Dean is a very, very troubled and angry person. He doesn’t know how to process his emotions properly, and so he takes it out on you because you...because you’re there and you’re an easy target to him. He’s been through a lot, yeah, but that is no excuse for the way he treats you. I just want you to know that none of this was your fault. No matter what Dean says.”

“But I screw up so often--”

“Yeah, so does everyone else, Castiel,” you interrupted, lovingly squeezing his arm. “But unlike the reasons behind a lot of other people’s choices, including Dean’s, you do what you do for the right reasons. You’ve always had the best intentions, and that’s what matters.” You lay your head on his shoulder then, trying to give him whatever comfort you could. Your heart ached for him; you knew how hard he tried to please the Winchesters, and that he always seemed to fail in their eyes. It wasn’t right.

"You’ve always been so kind to me,” he remarked, a small, sad smile on his face. He shook his head, like he couldn’t believe someone like you would take the time to be kind to someone like him. “To tell you the truth, it seems you’re the only person I have left.”

Heart lurching, you lifted your head and gently took his hand, pressing the lightest kiss to his knuckles. “I am always going to be here for you, Cas, no matter what. I’m on your side, and you can stay here for as long as you want.”

Castiel’s lip trembled just slightly at your words, and in one swift movement he had you cradled to his chest, his chin resting on the top of your head before he placed a grateful kiss to your crown. “Thank you.” You could feel the weight those words carried, like you were his lifeline, the one who just saved him from drowning.

You clung to him, so grateful to be the person he needed in such a cruel world. “Anytime, angel. Anytime.”

---------------------------------

Cas tags: @casquecest @casismybae @thran-duils @webcricket @zeeimpalaangel @yesimcastielsgirl @justfordestiel @casismybae @shadowpriestess6 @supernaturalmagicfolk @mrswhozeewhatsis @goldenangelbloodcastiel @gemini75eeyore @fridolf-arach @x-cassiopeia @darkmystress00 @fandom-has-ruined-my-life @willowing-love @kristaparadowski @dracsgirl @gospel666 @tardisheart134 @enaishungry @stumpostar @bluescluesandtattoos @dashingruins @simplyvictoria-93 @castiels-fanboy @isabellaolier @superwholockianlover221b @theimpalasdoctorin221b @miss-spnm0mma @small-town-wayward-daughter @grace-for-sale @my-mind-is-incognito @kyrathegreat985 @laneyloooo @castielmysaviour @you-know-whodoesthat-crazypeople @itsfunnierinenochian @cutiepiemish @heavenlyrainyparis @einhornisch @lalakawe @kjerstival @straightestgay-voice @book-loving--anime-chick @hamartiamacguffin @destiel-losechester @sarahope0214 @xdifsx @jeepangel @castiel-savvy18 @letsmakeitanotheryear @elenuch @hipstermoose @perseusandmedusa @greenappleeyes @bestwookieever @mariairwin666 @wordstothewisereaders @afanofmanystuffs @kmcmpmd @sortaathief @not-evennn @destiel-shippers-spn @hola-arya @peewee22ah @cocklesisdestielinreallife @samikitten @inlovewithbja @sassyllamaofdoom @emycakes4457 @cookieinstinct @the-moose-of-baskerville @mogaruke @xxmizzlexx @carryonmywaywardcas @mistressofallthingsgeeky @waywardmoeyy @casismyspiritangel @tistai @staygoldsquatchling02 @protectivedestiel @w1nchester3001 @letseatandsleep @777trees @blue-eyed-angxl1 @vekinryn @aditimukul @kristendanwayne @thepoet1975 @silverbulletsandredsigils @mishapanicmeow @jenabean75 @heyitscam99 @starboycas @fangirl-and-stuff @booknerd1324 @theariel85 @starletzombie @wontlookaway @luciathewinchestergirl @kitten0924 @julesthequirky @thisismysecrethappyplace @sunnysaysbookreviews

#castiel #supernatural #castiel x reader #cas x reader #spn

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inexchangeforyoursoul · 5 years

Text

Have some proper content from me lmao ( AO3 )

It’s been a long one… He’d already been tired for the briefings and whatnot in the morning, which was followed by a day spent on retrieving smuggled support items with the League. It was fun, he supposes… the sneaky mission impossible thing. Much more enjoyable than lying through his teeth, at the very least. Then it turned out that the loot included some extra booze in courtesy of Giran, leading to this impromptu celebration that’s been going on for hours. Which wouldn’t be a problem, if not for the fact that it’s past 11pm already and he needs some goddamn rest. An all-nighter before illegal activities? Never again.

Whatever high quality drink there was in the two bottles draped in Cyrillic text sure packed a punch, though. Tomura was worryingly unaffected and Sako was keeping himself together, but a lick of the stuff knocked Jin and Himiko the fuck out and had Spinner in the corner humming off-tune to whatever came on the radio. Doesn’t stop him from chugging down what’s left in one go, though.

All in all, on top of wistfully thinking of his bed, Hawks would be lying if he wasn’t rather buzzed, too.

But even that’s no excuse for this.

“I’m not sure what I should be more upset about,” he mumbles with half a pout on his face, breaking the quite possibly hour-long silence. “The fact that I’m spending my last few hours off on a Saturday night slow dancing with a dude in a dump, that it’s you of all people, or… that I’m actually enjoying it.” He’s being slowly but surely lulled into sleep, in fact. Concentrate, man. Shake off the warm coziness and concentrate.

There’s a short, easy-to-miss hum that has an almost content ring to it. “You were the one to scrape me up from the floor, remember? Any and all complaints are on you, feather duster.”

That’s fair; a smile ghosts his lips, but he doesn’t bother with an answer. One of Dabi’s cool hands gets bored of tugging at the cluster of feathers on the small of his back since forever, so it digs into them, earning a pleased sigh from Hawks as he snuggles a little closer. The asshole doesn’t even smell that bad for someone who barely showers… a little pungent, a little burnt. Must be his quirk’s doing. It sterilizes everything.

“… you sure have become comfortable around me,” the villain notes as he plays with the red plumage, slowing the hardly-dance (that started as another hardly-dance with a bouncy idiot dragging his even more drunk ass around, making him almost throw the fuck up in the process) down until they come to a halt. There’s a thoughtful look on his face. “Especially for what a nervous, jumpy wreck you are.”

Hawks lifts his head from the shoulder in a moment of vague clarity; he’s… right. For starters, he wouldn’t be clinging to Dabi like this if he was even remotely sane, the guy could grill him on the spot without effort if he wanted to.

Could. But he also knows… that he won’t.

“Well… your own damn fault for making me feel safe,” he sighs eventually after the spark of common sense slips away, and leans his chin back down. Fuck, he really needs to crawl into bed asap. But first he’ll have to, well… wake up. Then pocket the rest of his feathers so he can take the midnight train relatively incognito… then either take the elevator that he hates up to his apartment, or take the currently inhuman effort and get all of his feathers from both the bag and his room to zoom up. And hopefully not hit the one closed window. Ugh.

“Oho, and I almost blamed it on the booze. Thought you didn’t trust me?”

He moans in annoyance; there’s a mocking smirk hidden in Dabi’s voice. “Hell yeah, I don’t. But, like… you never made any remotely suspicious moves. What am I supposed to do right now? Kick you in the nuts, for which this is a golden opportunity for, by the way… maybe headbutt your face, earning a number of piercing imprints? Or just, like… scream? Oh nooo~, big bad criminal has me in his clutchesss~”

The overdramatic damsel whines earn a breathless laugh from the other, who then pulls away. “Okay, okay… show your face, midget. Look at me, you hear?”

“Anyway, I just ‘ave no energy for that shit,” Hawks continues unperturbed and motionless in not wanting to let go as the logorrhea wave goes on. He already misses being warm. Bummer. “Hell, you don’t trust me and just gave me the back scratching of the decade! What’s the deal with that, huh?” Two cold, rugged hands, which are pretty much the polar opposites of Dabi’s heated torso, come up to cup his face and tilt it upward.

“See?” SEE?! There he goes again. Still, being touched this gently is really… nice. It’s not something he’s used to… nor something he would have thought Dabi capable of being, to be frank. He can barely keep his eyes from closing. “This is what I’m talking about. My shit is safe. About-to-fall-asleep safe, with that big fucking payload of safety that you dropped on me. I’m gonna sleep pretty damn sound tonight, if I say so. Huggin’ my pillow and shit, like a bear… full of honey. At hibernation station.” Wow. Nothing he says makes fucking sense anymore. Thinking before opening his mouth is everything but an option right now. Oh, one more thing: “ … and I’m no midget,” he adds while lifting both pointing fingers.

“Mhmm, mhmm,” nods Dabi after every other line, observing the hero’s pink-tainted face. “… I’ve suspected as much, but you really are more than just a little tipsy,” he concludes then as a matter-of-fact. He taps Hawks’ face a few times with a hand. “I’m warning you that there are no pillows to brood on around here if you dare fall asleep on me, chicken.”

“Hrmm… Whatever. Your bony ass will do. Is warm.” … okay, whoopsy-daisy, he definitely should not have said that. Even if he finds all this touching enjoyable beyond words… and admittance. Speaking of which, the hell is even Dabi’s game? This shit could be taken as interest.

… wait. Wait, fuck… what if he is being flirty!? Abort, ABORT.

The adrenaline rush that comes with the thought dissipates like half of his exhaustion; Hawks peels his eyes open to take a good look at the villain. But his first reaction is to squint. Then squint even harder.

“Waiiita’seeec… are you… sober? Already?” His voice hitches high with disbelief and wings flare in a hiccup of scorn. “How the fuck, you downed like half a bottle of that shit! You were a mess— no, a disaster!!” he continues in an accusatory tone, with puffed wings of indignance and air karate chops, as if being the bigger mess at the moment was supposed to be a jab specifically at him. It’s Hawks who’s supposed to be the sane and rational one around these parts…! It’s him!!

“My body’s long burned through that shit, birdy,” Dabi informs him, his face infuriatingly and inexplicably neutral while sporting the smuggest barely-smile on his face.

The comment itself, on the other hand, rouses a goofy snort-giggle from Hawks, which reminds him of the fact that he is, in fact, everything but sober. ‘Burned through it…’ fucking hell.

Unimpressed head shake; Dabi lets go of his face and takes two steps back while putting his hands on the hips instead to have a good, condescending look at the other. Hawks is trying his best to suppress the giggles, and is leaning to wherever gravity takes him before his wings, relatively small as they are now, do their damnest to correct his balance while on autopilot.

He finishes his checkup with a deep sigh. “Yep… as wasted as they come.

“ You,” the hero points at him, tip of his finger as eerily rigid on target like a chicken’s head while he sways around lightly, “were near passed-out on the floor, young man.” The corner of his mouth is still twitching as his face is getting redder.

“Not anymore. You are about to kip over, though,” he states, tilting his head. “And damn if I’m not gonna watch you try not to.” Having said that, he steps forward with a hint of an amused smirk to give a tentative shove himself.

Hawks leans back fast and far enough from the impending hand of doom that it would indeed make him stumble backwards, if not for grabbing onto Dabi’s jacket. The villain connects with his target meanwhile- via finger flick to his temples.

His wings reflexively flap once as he’s yet to retain balance of any kind, and Hawks feels the redness creep up to his ears in embarrassment, then he peeks downwards… but the stars just aren’t aligned to put the returning idea into motion. Not if he wants to avoid falling ass backwards, that is. He sticks his lower lip out a bit, still staring. “… should ‘ave kicked you in the groin while I had the chance.”

“Too little, too late. Face is up here, bird brain.” He pulls the hero back onto his wobbly legs by the collar. “Get your wings flapping and your ass home… you are a hilarious mess.”

“Good enough for a joke… But, an absolutely ill-advised suggesshon. Drunk,” he says, pointing at himself with his free hand (as the other has yet to let go of Dabi), then back at his wings; “as small as they get while rede— reartaning… retaining funky– fuck it, they are… just big enough to lift me. When I’m not fucking like this. There.” Damn, if he’s stuttering, all hope is lost. Next time he’s packing snacks to drown out the booze before it drowns him. He wouldn’t risk flying like this either way, but damn it all, if Dabi really is fully sober… god, he’ll never let him live this down, will he.

“‘Flapping’ around like this would actually end up about as well as that horrendous mobile game did for any of us,” Hawks moans then. “Which you would pay to see, I know. Anyway, what I’m saying is… that the only way I’m flying right now… is if you chuck me, pal. And that ain’t gonna get me anywhere.” Even getting to the nearest train station would be a hassle by flight. Actually… it will be a hassle, no matter what, his legs are not exactly—

“WoAH…!” is the single most natural reaction he has to… well, being lifted off the motherfucking ground like a toddler. “The hell are you doing?!”

This is not something that just happens to the one guy on the block with functional wings, you know? When Hawks wants to leave planet Earth, it’s out of his own volition. It’s also him who divebombs villains or snatches various people off the ground, or from the air, it’s never the other way around. This? This is weird, this is unnatural, hell… literally unheard of, actually?

Because he can’t, for the life of him, remember anyone, ever carrying him. Not even as a child.

Not this way, at the very least… he has been on a stretcher a couple of times, but that’s never a good experience… you don’t land on one without a good, all kinds of painful reason. It feels nothing like this. This… this actually feels…

“Giddy up, then, because I’m taking you to the station. I sure as hell don’t feel like dealing with you in the morning,” Dabi huffs, interrupting the other’s epiphany. A drunk Hawks, he can deal with; he’s tolerable, if not, dare say, adorable, but hungover Hawks?! That just sounds like a living nightmare. He’ll have to deal with his own headache in a few hours. He’ll pass on this, hard.

“… you’re unnecessarily heavy for a half-pint canary,” he mumbles after a few steps; the bird has some muscle to his name, but is no body builder. And a shorty. He’d be impressed if said weight wasn’t literally on his shoulders. Also… he’s a little worried about the hero’s sudden silence. He’s got enough presence to hold onto him, though, so the guy can’t be that far gone.

“… Well,” Hawks drawls after a pause, “fun fact, Dabi… when at peak condition, my wings add up to roughly fifty per cent of my body weight. We’re being hella easy on you.” He gives a tentative swing with them, barely missing the villain’s head with his right one.

“Do that again, and I’ll make sure that you won’t be able to fly for a month.”

He lets out a soft laugh at that. The warm, alcohol-induced tingles still dancing at his fingertips may be a factor to consider, but he’s thoroughly enjoying this.

Not him being the one to fly just to get his head over the sea of people, gasping for air, even without the crowds being present… is an experience for sure. And being so much taller while still rooted to the ground one way or another, and able to see everything there is to see on an empty street at night feels straight-up sublime, and the wind that the freight train passing them carries with itself is blowing through his hair as the ka-chak, ka-chak of it quickly fades into the abyss, and, and…

… this is nice. Holy shit, is this nice.

He closes his eyes for a moment… which, of course, ends up not being just a moment, but the rest of the trip. He doesn’t even notice Dabi stopping until he speaks up.

“Your stop, Tweety. Wake the fuck up, man, I’m not your perch.”

“… ah.” The disappointment slipped through that one… oh well. The fact that he gets dropped about as gently as a sack of potatoes doesn’t help, either. He actually fell asleep there, didn’t he.

He takes a look around; they stopped at the end of the alley almost opposite the station. That’s good… he has yet to put on a shitty disguise. AND has his feathers attached, that one won’t do at all, into the bag they go, and out of the bag the strack suit comes. While he’s waking up and doing his thing, Dabi’s already sneaked over the fences of the next two houses and struts up to the platform from the street corner one over. With a head scratch and a sigh, he trods towards the entrance a minute later, too, attempting to look like someone who’s on villain trail.

The doors of the train slide open, and he collapses opposite Dabi, who’s fiddling with his phone. A few seconds later he pushes the button to slip back out. There’s a fresh note folded to as small as humanly possible left on the seat, lost next to baked good crumbs on the left, a piece of chocolate wrap just past that, and a lone piece of gum that looks as if it had been there for a while.

“‘He’ better send a message so I know he wasn’t murdered, kidnapped, or arrested on the way home,” Dabi says as the doors close, muffling the last bit. He turns around.

Hawks lifts a hand as a sign of understanding. The villain nods and swings his own arm in a half-hearted wave as he leaves. He takes a look around the outer walls before slinking back out and heading off to the opposite direction they had come from.

Hawks is left alone with his thoughts in the empty car. Eventually he remembers that he has a KFC cap at the bottom of the otherwise empty bag, too, along with… two leftover nuggets from yesterday that he forgot about. Cold and probably stale, but shit, that’s a godsent right now. As the train leaves the platform and he bites into his surprise reserves, he starts pondering.

Somehow… he’ll need to make him do that again.

#dabihawks #hotwings #dabi #hawks #bnha #kate writes #it's pure fluff and banter

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unrealistic-nerd · 5 years

Text

Zachary Levi of ‘The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel’ Embraces His Inner Geek

Browsing Midtown Comics with the star of the forthcoming “Shazam!” (Yes, fanboy selfies were taken.)

By Alexis Soloski

Zachary Levi at Midtown Comics near Times Square. Christopher Lee for The New York Times.

"This is giving me the most unbelievable flashbacks,” said Mr. Levi, who was a comics fan in his youth. Christopher Lee for The New York Times.

“It’s crazy to think how obsessed I was,” said Zachary Levi. “At one point in my life this was everything.”

Mr. Levi, who is 6-foot-4 and newly buff, was on the first floor of Midtown Comics, just south of Times Square, gazing up at shelves crammed with new releases. A former comics head and self-described nerd, Mr. Levi likes to browse whenever he’s in the neighborhood.

Keep reading on the New York Times website or below.

He is starring in the second season of “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel,” as Benjamin, the grumpy doctor who romances the title character, played by Rachel Brosnahan. And while “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel” hasn’t announced a comics tie-in yet, Benjamin — fast-talking, freethinking, enigmatic — is arguably a hero and his chemistry with Midge could explode a lab.

Benjamin’s superpower? “Logic,” Mr. Levi, 38, said. Is that enough to withstand the force of nature that is Midge? That’s a question for the third season.

Benjamin is only one of Mr. Levi’s identities, secret and otherwise. He played Chuck Bartowski, the tech geek who became an accidental superspy in the TV comedy “Chuck.” And he was the voice of Flynn Rider, the thief with questionable intentions and great hair who rescued Rapunzel in the Disney movie “Tangled.”

He is also a Broadway star (“First Date,” “She Loves Me”). And in case you thought the musical comedy triple threat was his own personal superpower, he is pretty sure it’s empathy. “I’ve always had a really gnarly heart,” Mr. Levi said.

Next year, he’ll finally join the superhero cape brigade, in “Shazam!”Mr. Levi plays the title character, a muscular incarnation of a teenage boy suddenly granted the wisdom of Solomon, the strength of Hercules, the stamina of Atlas, the power of Zeus, the courage of Achilles and the speed of Mercury.

“Also I can shoot lightning out of my hands,” he said proudly. “The wish fulfillment is very ridiculous.”

This made him minor royalty at Midtown Comics, though that morning he was assuming a lower, less electric profile. Just another fanboy. Only taller. He wore green pants and a black Under Armour puffer that concealed his physique.

Even incognito, it was clear that a hero had entered the building. Staff members trailed him as he browsed the narrow aisles, and other customers snapped surreptitious smartphone pics.

The store is large and brightly lit, but so overstuffed with comics and merchandise (Mr. Levi was especially tempted by a Captain America gelatin mold) that it looks a lot smaller.

After noting a “Shazam!” collection on the sale shelf, he paged through a “Bloom County” book and a Legend of Zelda encyclopedia shaped like an old Nintendo cartridge. “This is giving me the most unbelievable flashbacks,” he said. “I keep thinking about slapping the cartridges and blowing into them just so they would work.”

“Life was so much simpler in the ’80s,” he said. That was when he first fell in love with comics, mostly “X-Men” and its offshoots. “The idea of waking up one day and being able to teleport or fly or transform or be superstrong or whatever — the child in every single one of us is secretly hoping for that all the time,” he said.

Mr. Levi still has a box of those old comics somewhere, along with some baseball cards “that are probably worth nothing at this point,” he said. And he still plays video games. Most recently the Red Dead Redemption 2, a Western. He thought there was too much horse.

A Go-Bots comic caught his eye and then an issue of “The Avengers” that showed Jimmy Kimmel on the cover. “That’s when you know you’ve made it,” Mr. Levi said.

Mr. Levi also admired a “Star Wars” comic that styles Leia and Han like the farmers of “American Gothic.” “Tell me that’s not clever!” he said.

He wanted to see the toys and collectibles. “How do you go upstairs?” he said to a pair of boyish Midtown Comics employees. Then he answered his own question: “Oh. Where the stairs are.”

He ascended them with a speed that wasn’t quite Mercury’s, eating a meal replacement bar on the way. “Every two hours I have another meal,” he said.

Mr. Levi made a beeline toward a wall of X-Men figurines. “Gambit was my favorite,” he said, pointing to one figurine. “Because he was a total ladies man and spoke with that Cajun accent.” He went hunting for a Shazam figure in the DC Comics section, and Henry Varona, a baby-faced staffer, had to break the news to him that he wouldn’t find it.

“There’s really not one?” Mr. Levi said. “Come on. Really?”

He stared at a wall of bighead collectibles called Pops and was reminded that the toy company Funko didn’t make a figurine from his “Tangled” character, Flynn Rider. “They have a Rapunzel Pop and Maximus the Horse Pop and no Flynn Rider. What does a guy have to do to get a Funko Pop?”

He eventually found Shazam, albeit in T-shirt form. “Does that ever get old?” Mr. Varona asked him. “No way, man,” Mr. Levi said, shaking his head as he admired the yellow lightning bolt. “It’s just the coolest.” Being entrusted with playing a superhero, he added, “is something you get for the rest of your life, and to me that’s a very big honor.”

After Mr. Levi checked out some high-end figurines, Mr. Varona asked him to sign back issues of “Shazam!” and he obliged. “This will be on eBay in 10 minutes,” he joked.

“Five,” Mr. Varona said.

He posed for selfies with the staff and then joined everyone in a group shot. “Shazam!” they said as the camera phones clicked.

#zachary levi #zac levi #Shazam #shazam movie #nerd #comic books #DC Universe

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administratumadept · 7 years

Text

Taking The Beating

One of the many things that is a closely guarded secret about the Holy Inquisition and its operatives are the drinking stories. Like any close-knit secretive paramilitary force, those of us who do know each other and whose paths cross more than once (and, it has to be said, whose paths cross without violence, which can't always be guaranteed) will sit down and swap stories.

Oh, of course we discuss things that may be of import to our cases, or pass on nuggets of information that might just come in handy in the future. But we also sit, and drink, and laugh, and tell each other stories of the time that this particular person did a certain thing and something stupid happened, and we laugh, and drink again, and while the time away until we have to go back to r duties.

This is one of those stories. It was told to me by a very good friend, whom I miss very much, and I tell you it now, my dear, because – as well as being really rather funny, it can be learnt from.

My friend, who I shall call Y, was on some dreadful hole of an industrial world over in the Paridon Sector – it's to Spinward, don't worry, it's not important – following up a lead on some wretched heretic of some kind. Anyway, they were there incognito, because there was some suspicion placed on the Governor and the local authorities. This particular day, Y had gone into what some call a Threat Zone, filled with gangers and mutants and other unsavoury types. Now Y had this really remarkable skill with disguises; they could blend in anywhere. I once saw them go from a spaceport serf to a nobleman in under an hour. Anyway, there they were, walking down past some run-down habs, wearing all the right gang-signs, when all of a sudden – BAM – spotlights pin them in place and this squad of Arbites come slamming out of the nearest hab, the way they do, you know, all;

“Freeze! Don't move! Hands on your head! On your face! On your face!”

And Y doesn't even have time to go for their rosette, or protest, or say anything. No, the Arbites jump them and down they go, shock-maul to the ribs, wetting themselves, drooling a bit, on go the cuffs, and slam-bam-thank-you-mam Y gets chucked in the back of a snatch Repressor and off they go haring towards the nearest Precinct.

Now by the time Y gets dragged into the Precinct office they've managed to recover a bit, although it's hard to muster much authority when you've been on the wrong end of a good shock-mauling. Smelling of urine doesn't help either.

But Inquisitors like Y aren't ones to let something like that get the better of them! Oh no! There they are, stood between two surly Arbites, while another one searches their pockets and pats them down, dropping everything into evidence boxes and bags on the desk of the Judge-Arbite on duty.

Y just stood there while they removed, among other things, their fighting knife, a contraband handgun, a stun grenade, some filtration plugs, a memno-quill and data-slate, a multi-spectrum ocular, a shock-duster, and so on and so forth.

And then.

And then the Arbite pulling out all these things puts her hands on Y's rosette box. It wasn't that different to mine; a little leather-covered box, hinged, flips open, one solid gold and platinum seal and a hololithic imager to display all the relevant ID sigils and signifiers. It lands on the desk – clunk – and Y says “Open; full display.”

They got a gut-punch from the searching Arbite for that, of course, and rightly so, but Y was made of tougher stuff than that, so rather than doubling over coughing they were in position to see the Judge-Arbite's face go white. Which was impressive, as the Judge-Arbite – man called Helmer, fantastic fellow, lovely laugh, absolute fanatic about punctuality, you'd have liked him – anyway, he was really very dark complexioned. So there he is, frozen in place, all the blood just drains from his face, because that little rosette box had gone 'chink' and the hololith was rotating in the air, the usual skull-and-barred-I, laurel wreath, the whole works, and then running above it in low and high Gothic the lovely words:

THE BEARER OF THIS SIGIL IS AN ORDAINED AND ACCREDITED AGENT OF THE GOD-EMPEROR'S MOST HOLY INQUISITION

And Y just laughs.

It was about five minutes before any of the Arbites had recovered enough to release them, and all Y did was laugh, and clap them on the shoulder, and tell them they'd done absolutely the right thing, and would they mind awfully giving them a lift back to the Threat Zone as they had an investigation to run?

Of course, it rather blew Y's cover, but in the end it was Helmer and his squad who were instrumental in securing the fellow Y was after. So you see, my dear. You're not always going to be able to tell people you're on the same side until after you take the beating.

@sisterofsilence - pour vous! ;)

#Inquisition #fanfic #original writing #short #40K #warhammer 40k #inquisitor #no-one expects the holy Inquisition

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bokkiedoke · 6 years

Text

The Frozen Halls of Hades

At the far reachs of our star system lives a spiteful cosmic queen, forever P'O'd about what she calls "The dumbest fuckin' planetary decision since those pocket protectin' pricks decided to name their own planet after damn old dirty dirt.". Her name is Plutarch, but the historical reference is lost on her. The tyrannical ruler of Pluto, she planned for hundreds of years to finally take her robotic servants to Earth and destroy the quote "glasses-pushin' assholes" that dared say her domain was merely a dwarf planet.

"Seriously though, a 'dwarf planet', and then that Frankenstein lookin' fuck goes on TV every other day saying 'Oh but it's not really a planet anymore!'...", said the red faced monarch, scoffing, "...like if it's a dwarf it doesn't really count. That's goddamn dwarfist. What if I said you didn't really count as a Plutonian because you're a bit tinier than most?" What could be mistaken for a B Movie prop from 1960's Hollywood, or the trashcan it would be thrown in before a dude frizzle fried on too much acid took it back to his apartment and fucked it passionately, spoke.

"Yes my adroit and epigrammatic queen.", the robot said in a dandified voice.

With a roll of the eyes the queen responded, "Look, I know you've been on that thesaurus site, and that's great, but keep it simple when it comes to the compliments Tinny." "Of course my queen." The robot nervously shifted on it's duck-like rubber feet before turning to leave the room. Plutarch shot out of her chair, "Oh! Before you leave, what's the progress on the intergalatic ship?"

Tinny spun his...head?...around, "My queen! Don't you mean...Project First Contact."

Once again she rolled her eyes, "You robots are so goddamn ridiculous. First of all, that name is not at all incognito, and secondly, we aren't being spied on."

A person with bright pink skin leans in closely to her screen, the golden hue lighting up her face.

"Hey ugly, can you crank the volume a bit?"

Three bodyguards decked out in gear look at each other, puzzled.

"I think she's talkin' to you, X-X-Z.", says a sinewy lizard-like humanoid with a grin on their face.

A bulky female figure furrows her brow, "You're standin' right next to it, you lazy fuck. Also if you're gonna 'clean yourself' before shift please use some mouthwash afterwards"

The lizard sticks their tongue out, grazing the helmet of their leader as she stands between the bickering guards.

"EWW!", she yells, quickly removing her helmet to throw it across the room. "I don't care what you lick but make sure it's not my damn helmet. That thing'll smell like Akwa taint for days.". She re-adjusts her visor.

The engineer at the console looks over her shoulder and removes her earpiece, "Yeah don't worry, I got the volume under control. Assholes." Tamesis looks up after retrieving her helmet, "We're bodyguards, Dia. If the volume panel pulls a knife on you we'll be on it like a spacefly on shit, otherwise we'll leave the espionage to you." "Yeah speaking of how shitty y'all are as spies, your boss sent a fuckin' delivery ship here, something for you, he said it's for a 'research project', whatever that means."

Akwa fiddles with their Comm-Band for a moment, "Hmm, looks like it's a robot. I'll go get it."

As the mag-door slides up, Akwa hears something akin to tin cans being shoved into a garbage disposal. They look up from the user manual to see a large, rusted robot standing incredibly still in the middle of the cargo bay.

"Dude, you do know, that I know, that you're from Pluto."

The robot doesn't move.

"Look, two things are incredibly obvious. You're not a statue, and that piece of crap Plutarch sent you."

It still hasn't moved.

"...you're leaking oil and have a badge on your chest the fuckin' says Plutarch Robotics."

A speaker begins to crackle horribly inside of the chest of the robot, "Shit, cheese it y'all!"

A bunch of shoebox sized robots start driving down from the walls and out from under crates. The larger robot waves them into the escape pod.

"HaHAAAA," the robot's voice starts glitching a little, "...This is what you stupid Earth assholes get for spying on our queen! We've planted smartbombs all over this ship and now we'll be taking your only escape pod!"

As the escape pod begins to seal, Akwa yells back, "Uh, what about the ship you came here in?"

"I've got the keys, lizard brain!", he dangles them up to the window as the pod begins to release from the ship.

"You left it on, you rusty fuck. Also, the steering computer on that escape pod has CAPTCHA."

"SHIIIIIIIIIiiii-", the pod starts spinning faster and faster, careening into space away from Pluto. The mag-doors fly open behind Akwa, then the rest of the crew charges into the room. They look over their shoulder, "You'd think after hundreds of years of technology existing people wouldn't make 'Here's My Plan!' speeches."

Tamesis pulls them into the Plutonian ship, then looks to XXZ, "Quick, throw the crate in here!"

"Can't we just let it get blown up?", says X standing halfway into the ship.

"No, it'll come out of our pay."

Akwa looks at their wrist, "Yeah that thing's uh...one million krone."

The crate flys into the ship, almost smashing into Dia.

"For the love of Spacechrist!"

"Would hurting you come out of my pay too?", X smirks while dashing into the ship.

"Protecting me is literally your job, fuckface.", she cranks the throttle hard, and X trips back and hits her head against a panel.

Noise metal starts blaring in the ship as the rest of the systems come to life.

"Cosmic Shit, I thought that was just a joke!" Akwa screams over the music as they dash towards the volume panel. As the music starts to quiet down, Dia turns back to her guards.

"Looks like you do know how to work one of those." X pulls the pilot's chair back and leans over Dia's shoulder. "How about you just drive the ship before I quit my job and chuck you out the escape hatch?"

The de facto captain nervously looks down at the controls and nods her head in agreement. They quickly land on the planet, then Akwa and Tamesis slowly creep out of the escape pod to survey the halls of Plutarch's lair. After some silent pointing between the two and Akwa referencing their Comm-Band for a moment, they gesture back to the ship. As X steps out onto the surface she tiptoes out with a smirk, Akwa rolls their eyes and shouts back to her.

"Yeah we can just walk right up to the place from what I can tell. They might have some security inside but that front door is unlocked."

X pulls a K-Cannon off her back and leads the charge towards the compound. She gets to the large door and flings it open with one arm.

They enter the long glass hallway leading to what they think is Plutarch's chamber, when a robot resembling a posh usher steps in front of X. She shoots him a mean side-eye.

"Umm yes excuse me ma'am, but we regret to inform you all energy-based weaponry must be confiscateGAH AHH zzrrrrrrrrrrRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTT"

While the distinguished robot was making his speech, X had reached up and snapped off a piece of heavy chain and began strangling the mechanical messenger. As she snapped the chain tight, popping off his head, dozens of mishapen but rowdy looking robots entered from behind the group.

X went wild-eyed and started swinging the chain over her head as Immigrant Song started playing. Even though these robots were specifically made to not feel fear, they knew when to get the fuck out of the way. But as they tried to flee they realized where the chain came from. It was the one used keep the bay door open.

Metal body parts were flyin' everywhere. Akwa and Tamesis just stood back, partially because they were awe struck, but mostly because, to quote Akwa, "I ain't gettin' near that crazy ass fucker for any amount of money.". When the chaos had settled all that could be seen was X standing over a robot in the far corner of the room.

It was holding a chair, blocking the whipping blows from the chain. After a couple more brutal swings, X ripped the chair from it's hands. As the bot stood up to run, she swung the chair and smashed them so hard they accordian'd down into a small pile of rusty scrap metal.

Akwa observes the door before them, then tightens their eyes looking at the deep indentation within the metal lock. Opening up their Comm-Band again, they start looking through information at a rapid pace. Tamesis grabs one of the robot's hands from the edges of the chair as X stands over the heap of steel. She puts it into a slot next to the ornate door at the end of the hall and it opens with a pressurized hiss. Akwa looks puzzled.

"How'd you know that would work?"

Tamesis tosses the hand aside.

"All the bots are random hunks of junk, but their hands were the same. Pretty obvious really." When the gap widens enough for them, the group dips underneath the door and enters the chamber. X enters first and starts running towards the throne at the center of the room.

"You will die!", the thunderous screams of the hulking bodyguard echo throughout the room. As Tamesis and Akwa reach down for their weapons they feel something fly past them, and hear a large crash behind them.

"What...the hell...was that?", X says hoarsely before slumping over and passing out on the ground. "Akwa, this shit is crazy and we ain't gettin' paid for it, grab her and let's get the fuck out of here!"

Akwa strains to keep their beefy companion up as they approach the door and toss her under it. They turn around to Tamesis and notice her helmet is off. Without turning around she kicks Akwa under the door.

"Go to the ship, now."

The large door slams shut violently, but from under it a blue light emerges as Akwa drags X out to their escape. The building begins to shake, and bay lights flicker before turning off completely, then the light is soon replaced with the blinding blue glow. Testing their sidearm, Akwa notices all systems are now functioning. They bring out a porcelain white canister, then after fiddling with their Comm-Band, it morphs into a plasma welder.

Cutting a large hole through the bay door, Akwa quickly pushes X outside and then slides through. As they go to pick up X and run, they hear a pained scream steadily rising in volume. They peer down the hallway and see the blue light has softened, so much so that it's almost completely dark. With the light on their Comm-Band, they see Plutarch's chamber falling to pieces.

As a figure dashes towards the now opened chamber door they trip, and it comes slamming down on their back as they try to crawl away. A yelp rings in Akwa's ears. Heavy breathing turns to a sick gargling as the enormous door crushes down on them. Akwa looks behind themselves towards the ship.

"Fuck it."

Akwa dives back through the hole in the door. With a swipe at their Comm-Band they are now holding a sleek energy rifle, as they charge down the dimly lit hallway. While dodging falling rubble Akwa speaks.

"Don't worry, I can get you outta here, we got a Medbot back at the base, we'll be there in like, 2 minutes flat, you'll live..."

The door quickly rises and once again the blue light blinds Akwa.

"I hope you don't plan on taking a damn lich with us."

Akwa blocks some of the light with their hand, and notices Tamesis standing there. It's the first time they have seen her without her visor on, and her eyes look like an ocean of crashing waves.

"Look, we gotta get out of here, so stop staring at me. I'll explain on the ship. Okay?"

As they walk up the ramp of the ship, Plutarch's mansion becomes filled with roaring flames, which quickly die out when exposed to the emptiness of space. The crew sits around the small table in the cramped cabin, knowing they have a couple of hours until they get back to Earth.

"So Tamesis, what the fuck happened back there?", says X after she drops the large box of cargo in front of Akwa. They start digging into it.

Tamesis takes her helmet off, "Sure. I'm..."

Akwa pulls a manual from the crate, "I KNEW IT! IT'S A FUCKIN' SEXBOT!"

The End.

#chroniclesofthecosmos #science fiction #original #short story #watchouttheresswears

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thegoddamnfangirl · 7 years

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Li’l Lou

Pairings- Loki Laufeyson x Reader, starring dense!reader.

Requested by anon and based on this imagine of mine.

Warnings- this is probably not as romantic as you expect. I had no idea what to write, so I came up with something which I hope is kinda funny?

The sign was bold and intimidating (yes, signs can be intimidating, especially if you’ve talked to the landlord who writes the signs)- No pets allowed.

Which was a pity for you, cat- premi supreme. You had been living in the building for a about a year now- the accommodations were good and the rent was reasonable- and boy, did you long for the company of a feline friend.

But you were respectful (read: afraid) of your landlord and his wishes, so you had suppressed the urge to go out and buy an army of kittens. And then, one day, you succumbed.

There it was, the most majestic creature you had ever seen. Glossy black from head to toe, with eyes that looked like jade, lounging gracefully on the top step of your apartment building’s entrance.

“Mrrrrrow,” he said when he saw you. You had mentally just assumed the cat was a ‘he’.

“Oh my god,” you breathed. “You are the most gorgeous thing I have ever seen in my entire life.”

The cat looked like he agreed.

You inched closer and extended a hand to touch him. The top of his head was silky smooth, and he stood up at your touch, and rubbed his hand against your hand, making a rusty noise at the back of his throat which was probably his way of purring.

You had to get home, though, and it was cold outside, so you walked past the cat and headed inside the building.

As you climbed up the stairs, you looked behind to see that the cat had actually followed you inside, and was waiting on the step before yours for you to move on.

You did, and he followed.

Now, it was cold outside, as previously mentioned. As you were unlocking your apartment, the cat was waiting, and you fancied he was anticipating the heat that would be within.

“Oh, I could get kicked out of the building for this,” you groaned, opening the door and letting the cat trot inside.

You gave the cat some food, which he seemed to appreciate. He was a graceful, well behaved creature, and while you were showering, you decided you were going to keep him. He had no collar, so you might as well.

You came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a fluffy towel, to see the cat sitting on his haunches on your bed, staring intently at you.

Something about that green-eyed gaze made you uncomfortable. You grabbed some clothes from your closet and decided to get dressed in the privacy of the bathroom.

You dressed in comfy pajama shorts and an oversized shirt, and got underneath you covers feeling relaxed and happy. The cat walked up to your face and sat down by your end of the covers, almost as if silently demanding entrance. You opened up the covers, and he slunk inside them, settling down next to your stomach and beginning to purr.

“What should I name you?” you wondered out loud.

“Mrrrrrow,” said the cat, and you were sure he was telling you his actual name in Cat.

“Well, I don’t speak Cat...” you said. “I think I’m gonna call you Lou-Lou.”

You always had loved funny names for cats.

There was a hiss from inside the covers; Lou-Lou’s way of saying that he did not like that name.

“Too bad, li’l Lou, the name has stuck,” you said, before you fell asleep.

It had been a few days since you had let Lou-Lou in. You had explained to him that it was imperative that he be quiet and well-behaved, or you would both be chucked out by the landlord, and he acted like he understood. Lou-Lou was practically incognito.

Funny cat, he was. He liked water, for one thing. This one time, you were taking a warm shower, he had jumped inside, mrrrrrow-ing loudly- only to be chased away by your yells and a bottle of shampoo thrown at him.

Work took up a lot of your time, but Lou-Lou was a behaved cat. You managed to come home twice during work to put food and water out for him. Today, however, you had been held up during lunch break, and unable to come home to give Lou-Lou food.

On account of this, you hurried home, hoping Lou-Lou wasn’t terribly hungry. On opening the front door, you were surprised not to find him loping towards you in greeting, as he usually did.

“Lou-Lou?” you called out, worried that he might’ve somehow escaped in search of food. You went into your bedroom, and froze.

There was a man on your bed.

A tall, dapper man, dressed in green and black, with a huge grin on his face and familiar jade eyes.

“Hello, darling,” he said in sultry tone, and something about it reminded you about the way Lou-Lou said “mrrrrrow”.

Your throat went dry.

“W-who are you?” you asked.

His grin grew wider.

“Don’t you recognize me?” he asked. “You let me inside your home. You even gave me a name...Lou-Lou.” This last part was pronounced with distaste.

You blinked at him a few times.

“However, you were unaware of my identity, and still are, so I shall enlighten you. I am Loki, God of Mischief and rightful heir to the throne of Asgard, and a skilled shape-shifter.”

To prove his point, he shrunk into Lou-Lou, then turned back into himself.

“Okay...” you began.

“Could I have Lou-Lou back, though?”

Wrong question. Loki’s eyes darkened- he stood up and took a few menacing steps towards you.

“You ask for a kitten, girl, when you can have a god?” he breathed.

You held your ground, despite being intimidated by his height.

“W-well, cats are...you were...you were very cuddly as Lou-Lou.”

He grinned again, coming closer.

“Oh, my love,” he said in a low tone. “I can be so much more than simply....cuddly.”

His hand suddenly had an iron grip on your arm- he threw you on the bed and advanced over you, breathing heavily.

There was a hungry look in his eyes as they roved over your entire body.

“OMG!” you exclaimed, jumping up and grabbing his wrist.

“Lou-Lou, I forgot to feed you! I’m such a terrible owner, I’m so sorry I forgot!”

You led him by the hand to the kitchen. When you looked back, you saw that he looked completely nonplussed.

“You look hungry, Lou,” you told him.

“Hungry, yes,” he mumbled. “But not for cat food.”

His gaze was fixed on you in that intense way, and you understood.

“Of course, Lou-Lou; you get human food,” you said sympathetically.

Loki’s palm hit his forehead.

“Y-you- are all mortals this abysmally slow?” he asked.

“Lou-Lou!” you said. “Be nice. Is this the sort of stuff you used to say when you hissed at me? It’s very rude; anyway, sit down, Lou-Lou, you’re hungry.”

Loki slumped into a chair.

“You may call me Loki,” he growled.

“Sure thing, Lou-Lou,” you replied, microwaving some spaghetti for him.

Your back was turned to him- suddenly, you felt his breath on the back of your neck.

“It is not food that I crave, sweetheart.”

You turned, not at all perturbed by the closeness of your faces.

“What do you want, then, Lou-Lou? You’re a very finicky cat.”

He bit his lower lip, his arms slipping around your waist.

“Perhaps you should come to bed and see.”

“Oh, are you sleepy, Lou? Are you sure you don;t want any dinner?” you asked. “I mean, we can go to sleep if you want to- I know how you like to cuddle. You know, the fact that you’re actually a person solves a lot of things- you can be a cat when you feel like it, and whenever the landlord makes a surprise visit, you can turn into yourself again!”

Loki sighed as you led him to the bedroom, resigned to the fact that he wasn’t going to ‘get some’.

#sorry not sorry #loki x reader #loki x you #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki odinson x reader #loki odinson x you #loki of asgard #loki fanfiction #loki imagine #marvel x reader #lokitty #cat loki #loki the cat #loulou #hahahahahahaha #im not funny am i

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routerground6-blog · 5 years

Text

The Bear’s Den, May 29, 2019

BEAR DOWN, CHICAGO BEARS, BEAR DOWN!!!!

BEARRRSSSS / FREE AGENCY / DRAFT

Wood: How Did the Bears Use Their Receivers & Tight Ends in 2018? - Da Bears Blog - The offseason is the perfect time to do a deep dive into what exactly we saw on the field last year, so today I want to look more closely at how Chicago used their WRs and TEs in 2018.

Bears set panel times for Celebration Weekend - ChicagoBears.com - The Bears on Tuesday announced the scheduled times for the panel discussions being conducted at the Bears100 Celebration Weekend June 7-9 at the Donald E. Stephens Convention Center in Rosemont.

Mayer: Jackson, Ridley to co-host camp in Florida - ChicagoBears.com - Bears All-Pro safety Eddie Jackson and rookie receiver Riley Ridley will join forces this summer to give back to the community where they grew up in South Florida.

Medina: Report - The Pro Football Hall of Fame Wanted the Bears to “Host” a 2020 Regular-Season Game in Canton - Bleacher Nation - The Bears playing a “home” game in Canton, Ohio would have been something.

Medina: Mitch Trubisky Is “On the Cusp of Greatness” … And Perhaps a Super Bowl Run - Bleacher Nation - The sky is the limit for QB1.

Medina: Khalil Mack Wants to be the B.O.A.T. - Bleacher Nation - Khalil Mack strives for greatness.

NFC North franchise quarterbacks: Each team’s greatest passer - NFL.com - Will Mitchell Trubisky succeed Jim McMahon as the Chicago Bears’ top passer? Does Aaron Rodgers or Brett Favre claim the Green Bay Packers’ crown? Ali Bhanpuri dives deep into each NFC North team’s history to anoint their best QB1s.

Smith: Bears expecting big second year from Roquan Smith – ProFootballTalk - As a rookie last year, Bears linebacker Roquan Smith was a significant contributor. The Bears are hoping for even more in Year 2. With the Bears making some changes on their defensive coaching staff this offseason, Smith is making a favorable early impression with his new coaches.

Potash: No longer a rookie, Roquan ready for takeoff - Chicago Sun-Times - Bears linebacker Smith is working on all aspects of his game: “I definitely think I can make a larger impact.”

Bears storylines: The Tribune’s Top 100 list, Khalil Mack’s new mentor and Matt Nagy’s spring surprise - Chicago Tribune - The Tribune is set to begin its Top 100 Bears list plus insight on Khalil Mack and Matt Nagy’s “Monday Funday” at Halas Hall.

Stankevitz: Why Roquan Smith will be critical for the Bears repeating as the NFL’s best defense - NBC Sports Chicago - If Roquan Smith develops the way the Bears believe he can, he could be critical in helping the NFL’s reigning top defense stave off regression in 2019.

Mayer: Pagano offers take on key defensive players - ChicagoBears.com - Having worked with the Bears defense since the offseason program began in mid-April, new coordinator Chuck Pagano recently shared his thoughts on some of his top players.

Cox: Sixth-round pick Duke Shelley thankful his draft path brought him to Bears - NBC Sports Chicago - Duke Shelley flew under the radar through the NFL draft process, falling to the Bears in the sixth round. And yet, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Mayer: Halas featured in Bears Centennial Scrapbook - ChicagoBears.com - The first of four excerpts from the Chicago Bears Centennial Scrapbook focuses on how George Halas helped found the NFL and build it into the behemoth it is today.

POLISH SAUSAGE

Chris Long hopes to remove the stigma of marijuana use – ProFootballTalk - Recently retired NFL defensive end Chris Long recently created a stir by acknowledging to Dan Patrick that (Egads!) Long smoked marijuana during his playing career.

Mike Mayock on Richie Incognito: Can’t have all boy scouts – ProFootballTalk - The Raiders signed veteran guard Richie Incognito on Tuesday and General Manager Mike Mayock fielded questions from reporters about the move later in the day.

KNOW THY ENEMY

Will the Detroit Lions buy in to Matt Patricia? - Pride Of Detroit - ESPN poses an important question for Detroit in 2019.

NFC North Roster Additions: Lions hope for immediate impact from big-name draft picks - Acme Packing Company - The Lions drafted the top TE in the draft and added a National Championship winner that they hope can step in to fill roles ASAP.

IN CASE YOU MISSED IT ON WINDY CITY GRIDIRON

Schmitz: Dissecting the Designer - A look into how Matt Nagy’s aggressive creativity affects the Bears’ offense - Windy City Gridiron - Despite a bevy of offseason offensive additions, Chicago Bears Head Coach Matt Nagy remains the most impactful offensive factor heading into 2019.

Wiltfong: Bears and Packers play in 100 days, so here are a few ‘did you knows’ - Windy City Gridiron - We’re only 100 days away from the kickoff to the Chicago Bears 100th season against the Green Bay Packers, and earlier today we asked you guys for a very specific prediction for that game.

Wiltfong: Bears and Packers play in 100 days, so give us your very specific prediction for that game - Windy City Gridiron - We’re 100 days away from the start of the NFL’s 2019 season which is special because it’s not only the NFL’s 100th season, but it’s also the 100th season of the Chicago Bears. By now you’re all...

Schmitz' Bear With Me Podcast: Will HaHa Clinton-Dix have a better season than Adrian Amos? - Windy City Gridiron - On his latest episode of Bear With Me, Robert S. dives into a deep Bears mailbag to answer all sorts of offseason questions.

WCG CONTRIBUTORS BEARS PODCASTS & STREAMS

Windy City Gridiron Podcast Channel which includes Bear With Me from Robert Schmitz, Bears Over Beers featuring Jeff Berckes & EJ Snyder, and T Formation Conversation from Lester A. Wiltfong Jr.; Steven’s Streaming Twitch Channel from Steven Schweickert; and Robert Zeglinski’s The Blitz Network

THE RULES

Windy City Gridiron Community Guidelines - SBNation.com - We strive to make our communities open and inclusive to sports fans of all backgrounds. The following is not permitted in comments. No personal attacks, politics, gender based insults of any kind, racial insults, etc.

The Bear’s Den Specific Guidelines – The Bear’s Den is a place for Chicago Bears fans to discuss Chicago Bears football, related NFL stories, and general football talk. It is NOT a place to discuss religion or politics or post political pictures or memes. Unless otherwise stated, the Den is not an open thread, and profanity (including profanity only stated in pictures) is prohibited.

Click on our names to follow us on Twitter:

WCG Contributors: Jeff Berckes; Patti Curl; Eric Christopher Duerrwaechter; Kev H; Sam Householder; Jacob Infante; Aaron Lemming; Ken Mitchell; Steven Schweickert; Jack Silverstein; EJ Snyder; Lester Wiltfong, Jr.; Whiskey Ranger; Robert Schmitz; Robert Zeglinski; Like us on Facebook.

Source: https://www.windycitygridiron.com/2019/5/29/18643371/chicago-bears-free-agency-draft-offseason-training-activities-camp-pace-nagy

#read more #see more #check it out #interesting #learn more

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