okay so, like always I kinda went I bit off track with this prompt. I guess inspiration hit me or whatever lmao

This is going to be mostly focused on the Promptis relationship but it does have established Ignoct and Gladnoc, This will only be two chapters long but I’ll add additional information at the end, when it’s finished.

No smut as of yet because plotting is hard.


Well, I hope you enjoy and sorry for any mistakes orz

The crowd was loud this morning, far too loud. It could have been that Prompto’s patience wasn’t the greatest at the moment, but it was hard to ignore the loud screams followed by cheers and people clapping. The whole idea as to why they were so excited was just disturbing. At least it was disturbing to him, as one of the many people that were about to be sold off to some unknown people or household.

It never really occurred to him that this was where his life was heading.  It was probably karma that was coming back to bite him in the ass. He was bought by the auctioneers since he was relatively young, and had been working in the auction house since then. It was his job to take care of slaves that were bought by the owner. He fed them, helped with their wounds and also prepped them for when they were going to be sold. He had been doing this for years, it was one of the only things he could do. Well, he could aim a gun pretty well since he did have to scare off people that were trying to steal the merchandise.

Prompto couldn’t remember doing anything that would earn him this sort of punishment. But he had no say on this. This was it, the life he once knew was going to be gone and he was going to start a new. It was a terrifying thought. He had no idea where he was going, or who was going to buy him. He wasn’t even sure as what type of slave he was even going to be advertised at. The brutal memory of several slaves that were brought back suddenly hit him. He shivered and shook his head. It wasn’t going to be like that, no way. He was not going to end up like that, empty…dead.

The crowd outside started cheering again and Prompto felt his blood turning cold. It was his turn. He couldn’t stop shaking but he tried to put up a front. He needed to look a little bit tougher than he was. If he looked roughed up, and like a trouble maker then maybe he’ll end up being bought by people that just wanted manual labor. It was for sure something he was used to doing every day.

It was early in the morning. The sun was hardly above the horizon. A light cloud of mist was still clinging to the earth and the smell of rain was prominent. The clouds that were slowly hiding the sky looked like they were going to force the auction to end early. If Prompto was still a worker here, with weather like this he was for sure guarantee a moody boss for the rest of the day. There was nothing worst than an auction ending early. It was a waste of money and you couldn’t be sure if tomorrow the same buyers would show up.

“We can start the bidding a bit lower due to his age. But how about two-thousand gil for starters?”

Prompto took a deep breath and looked around him. One of these people were going to be buying him, maybe the woman on the right with the white dress, or the guy with the nice sweater. You could never tell anything just by looking at them. He had seen the nicest looking people getting a slave before, and once he met them again it turned out they weren’t the nicest at all. In fact, they were pretty fucking sick.

It just felt so unrealistic. He couldn’t help himself but to rub his lips on a thin line when the number started to increase. The people bidding lazily raised their hands or numbers, their eyes on the prize. It almost looked like some sort of sport or entertainment for some of them. Would they get this one or not? Would he be good or not? You could never tell, and it was so exciting for them. Maybe this time they’ll get a better slave, one that actually can do what they wish out of them. The thrill in their eyes was poisonous and Prompto couldn’t look at them in the eye.

The bidding kept going, and towards the end there were only five people left. Prompto was trying his hardest not to think about the people in front of him, but one of them was very hard to ignore. Well, two of them. He noticed them earlier but figured they weren’t going to be interested. It wasn’t until midway through the bidding that they decided to jump in. The two didn’t look like the rest of the crowd. People here liked to be flashy with their money, but they were wearing a regular black suit with little to no jewelry. But they were intimidating, very much so. The one with the glasses that was doing the bidding looked sharp and cold. The stoic look on his face never changed once as he kept outbidding everyone around him without hesitation. The other guy though, he was massive. He was a tall, wall of muscles that stretched the fabric of his suit to the limit. He was looking ahead, staring at Prompto with a smirk on his lips.

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Shikatema Week


Shikamaru stumbles forward so violently, the front of his shoes catching on what he thinks amounts to little more than a pebble, but his misstep is so careless, he is barely able to catch himself before he lands face first in the dirt below him.

The worst part is, he’d been looking directly at the rock buried in the ground, making hazy note to avoid it, when he’d walked right into the thing.

“God,” Temari drawls, paused a step ahead of him now. “You’re such a fucking mess.”

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25 Things I Love About Cycling

Sometimes the more you do something the less you enjoy it because it becomes boring and repettive. Sometimes the more you do something the fonder and more excited you become with it. As I cycle toward my goal I have a bit of spare time to sit and think about the reasons that cycling is so enjoyable, peaceful, and rewarding to me.

Here are a few of the things that I love about cycling:
Riding into the wind at the front of a pace line.
Espresso half way though a long ride.
Pushing your legs and body to complete exhaustion doing intervals.
Finishing a ride covered in sweat, road dirt, and looking the worst for wear yet feeling like a million bucks.
Riding a new bike for the first time.
The first outdoor ride of the year after spending the winter cooped up on the trainer.
Getting new cycling gadgets & gear.
Being asked to take another pull or a longer one at the front of a pace line.
Outsprinting a dog with your heart beating out of your chest.
Being told you climb really good “for a big guy”.
Gliding past cars in traffic while drivers stare ahead filled with road rage.
Your first ride in a real cycling kit.
Teaching your kids to ride a bike for the first time.
Finally learning how to pedal circles and seeing how it changes your pace forever.
That click your shoes make locking into your pedal (well, I used to).
Being able to help someone fix a flat (well… moral support because I do not appreciate to srew up with may nails #fact)
Riding on an open road with no one around for miles.
Watching the pros climbing in Le Tour and daydreaming about doing it someday.
Being schooled by an older rider on a fixie.
The first ride after cleaning your bike.
Your first successful clip out.
Seeing someone admire your bike.
Breaking 42 miles per hour on a hill decent.
The anticipation of a weekend ride after a stressful work week.
Standing to climb a hill and smiling when you reach the top only to realize you made it without walking or sitting.

anonymous asked:

All anti-trump propaganda is made up garbage. Everyone and their grandmother have known who he was since the 70s, and the democrats worst 'dirt' on him is a dossier 4chan made up. Anyone still on the anti-trump train is a sad delusional, contrarian fool.

Anyone on the “Trump is a fascist who’s going to deport all the Mexican-Americans and shoot all the gays” train is delusional. You can dislike Trump without being bonkers about it.

Hell, disliking the president is practically an American tradition at this point.

Me and my girlfriend have to spend a lot of nights watching TV with her mother and the only shows she wants to watch are the dirt worst reality shows about treasure hunting filled with horrible acting and fake drama and 0% of actual treasure being found. I’ve watched at least 10 different shows like this and they’re all identical to each other. She gets so sucked into the show that she genuinely believes the characters are in danger whenever they cut to commercial. I’m living my personal hell.

okay, ok, i got this:

somedays i am the store of balloons, somedays i am the porcupine, on the worst days i am both. or

somedays i am the lung, somedays i am the pack of menthols, on the worst days i am both. or

somedays i am the house of cards, nineteen years tall, teeming, un tackled, somedays i am the earth quake, on the worst days i am both. or

somedays i am what happened, somedays, i am what caused the happening, on the worst days, i blame the thing that breathes,

the part of me that is body & alive & remembers what everything that isn’t body tries to forget. or

somedays, i am joy. somedays i laugh. i swell with so much god that the sky of me rains. somedays, i am just the rain. an endless air of grey. a damp, muted bed of dirt

on the worst days, nothing grows

okay, ok, i got this:

somedays i am the store of balloons, somedays i am the porcupine, on the worst days i am both. or

somedays i am the lung, somedays i am the pack of menthols, on the worst days i am both. or

somedays i am the house of cards, nineteen years tall, teeming, un tackled, somedays i am the earth quake, on the worst days i am both. or

somedays i am what happened, somedays, i am what caused the happening, on the worst days, i blame the thing that breathes,

the part of me that is body & alive & remembers what everything that isn’t body tries to forget. or

somedays, i am joy. somedays i laugh. i swell with so much god that the sky of me rains. somedays, i am just the rain. an endless air of grey. a damp, muted bed of dirt

on the worst days, nothing grows


Donte Collins, “a sadness by any other name”


i am the WURST i am that person who overcompensates and goes on dramatic rants about how boys are dumb and are dirt and are the worst (which is all true facts) but like the boy is right there that i like and it is the worst i am the worst i hate this I HATE FEELINGS 

This labeled as Broken. My masterlist archive of bullshit i write can be found linked at the top of the blog or here

They were alone as men were fanned out and firing echoed in the rocky facility.

After the screams, all Rhys had left was a litany of “fuck!“s and other noises of excruciating pain as he laid bleeding in the dirt. It was the worst pain he’d ever felt, and he could tell it was serious. Something was very very wrong inside his body. He tried to keep thoughts of I’m dying out of his head, but deep down he knew he was fucked.

“Jack it-it hurts….fuck it hurts.”

“I know baby hang in there,” Jack told him as he applied pressure to the younger man’s stomach. Rhys screamed out in pain, and Jack ignored it as he tried to staunch the free-flowing wound with his shirt. There was a quickly forming puddle of thick red beneath Rhys as he lay in the orange Pandoran earth. The bullet was still in his gut– hadn’t gone clean through- and he was bleeding profusely from the entry point.

Rhys was writhing as he lay there, but not as furiously as when he’d initially gone down. Breathing hard and gasping in pain, crying out as Jack tried to tend to him in a frantic panic. He’d never felt pain like this before. He wanted to claw it out with his own hands. He could taste copper and bile in his throat, his body hot and cold, and he was terrified.

“I got you. it’s gonna be okay, you’re going to be okay.”

Jack was mentally strangling himself over not forcing the younger man to wear the body armor his soldiers were wearing as they went down to the shithole of a planet. "If you won’t wear it then I don’t see why I need to,” Rhys had adamantly told him. Jack wished he hadn’t been indulgent. Wished he hadn’t laughed it off when Rhys said Jack was a far more tempting target than he could ever be anyways. Jack wished he could rewind the clock. It all counted for naught.

The sniper had gotten off just one single shot before Jack’s men took him out and immediately swept the area for more insurgents. The shot that was aimed at Jack instead hit Rhys. Had Jack not turned to yell at the unit leader about why the hell it was taking his men so long to get their shit together, it would be Jack in the dirt right now with a bullet in him, not the younger man.

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okay, ok, i got this:

somedays i am the store of balloons, somedays i am the porcupine, on the worst days i am both. or

somedays i am the lung, somedays i am the pack of menthols, on the worst days i am both. or

somedays i am the house of cards, nineteen years tall, teeming, un tackled, somedays i am the earth quake, on the worst days i am both. or

somedays i am what happened, somedays, i am what caused the happening, on the worst days, i blame the thing that breathes,

the part of me that is body & alive & remembers what everything that isn’t body tries to forget. or

somedays, i am joy. somedays i laugh. i swell with so much god that the sky of me rains. somedays, i am just the rain. an endless air of grey. a damp, muted bed of dirt

on the worst days, nothing grows

Mandatory Service [Closed w/ Mnemosyne-n-me]

Saying Overlook was a shithole was an understatement. Militia members were treated worst than dirt there, especially so for Pilots. Cuffs, time locks, trigger happy guards…the whole 9 yards. Beating of prisoners and sanctioned “Fight clubs” were common. Sitting in her cell was captured pilot Laura Alexeev, counting guards again… her legs tethered to the wall via grapple hooks. She was trapped there, didn’t mean she wasn’t planning anything. All she need was the right moment…

okay, ok, i got this:

somedays i am the store of balloons, somedays i am the porcupine, on the worst days i am both. or

somedays i am the lung, somedays i am the pack of menthols, on the worst days i am both. or

somedays i am the house of cards, nineteen years tall, teeming, un tackled, somedays i am the earth quake, on the worst days i am both. or

somedays i am what happened, somedays, i am what caused the happening, on the worst days, i blame the thing that breathes,

the part of me that is body & alive & remembers what everything that isn’t body tries to forget. or

somedays, i am joy. somedays i laugh. i swell with so much god that the sky of me rains. somedays, i am just the rain. an endless air of grey. a damp, muted bed of dirt

on the worst days, nothing grows
—  Donte Collins

littlestsugar-deactivated201601  asked:

You're pathetic. Big deal, you're ugly. Get over it.

You know normally I would just delete this and get on with my day but I can’t help but find it really ironic that if you were ugly you’d be just as annoyed and hurt as I am. I couldn’t help but read your whole blog and it’s basically documents bits of your life as a sugar baby which obviously depends mostly on the fact that you’re attractive. Could you imagine your life the total opposite of what it is right now if you were unattractive? Having people be mean to you just because you had the audacity to come into this world with the wrong face, not ever having decent friendships and/or relationships, having a hard time gaining employment, being like dirt but worst of all knowing that you cannot survive on just your looks alone? You’re really lucky that you’re attractive knowing you can use your looks to your advantage and just looking the way you do will be enough for people, it must be real tough having men buy you things like Tiffany jewelry, give you money, huge shopping sprees, basically anything you want and on top actually care about you and worship the ground you walk on. How dare I voice my opinions on my own blog about being ugly in comparison to being pretty without ever bothering you or invading the sugar baby/daddy tags. In the same way that you don’t like people telling you shit like how to run your life and how much they disagree with having sugar daddies please refrain from insulting me and talking about a subject you know nothing about and check your own fucking privilege before you come at me and focus on the more important things in your life like your son, graduating college and sugaring. 

Bucky: Poor Party Planning

This is another Bucky thing. Not even the thing i’ve been working on. But i did steal paragraphs from the other thing because it is like 5000 words and that’s too many words probably maybe. 

“Party this week everybody. Well. Gala.” Tony declared, standing before the coffee table and the group collectively winced. Gala was Tonys word for a party but with media present, he never used it in any other context, even if there actually was a gala. He called those just parties.

“Tony.” Steve began, giving the man a level look, only to be cut off by Natasha.

“Steve.” She warned and the man seemed to pause, meeting her eyes with a speaking look before closing his mouth and sitting back in his arm chair.

You looked up at Bucky, his gaze staring out the window at the skyline slightly dreamily. This was one of the few times all of you were in New York, in the tower. These days, you mostly lived at the compound, did business there. The tower was less a thing now. Probably since Ultron. That kind of messed the place up a little.

“Hunter.” You whispered in his ear sharply and he instantly became alert, eyes searching the area for threats while you smirked. After a minute, and once he was sure, he gave you a displeased look and you giggled softly.

It had taken you months to train him for that word. Perhaps a year. Every time there had been a situation, like someone about to shoot at you or him or your friends, you’d had to shout “Bucky, hunter.”.

It had been exhausting. And by now, every time you said “hunter” he’d instantly go battle ready. You’d definitely planned it and by the time you realised that you’d used a similar tactic as the Soviets, you were in too deep.

“What, Y/N?” He grumbled, eyes still half distracted and fleeting, searching the area.

“There’s a gala.” You whispered back, ignorant to the rest of the conversation. Whatever was being said now was just cake icing. Sometimes the best part. You probably should be listening.

“What? Why? When?” He whined, hand unconsciously pulling you closer like a shield.

“What and why are both because we have to give the media something every so often, it can’t just be “Y/N posted a photo of Bucky” or “Sam tagged Steve in this meme”. Sam, please stop that, you’re old now, leave it to the kids.” Stark sighed, dropping onto the couch beside Wanda, who rubbed his shoulder understandingly.

You hid a snort in Buckys bicep, glancing up at him momentarily, amusement lacing his carefully inexpressive expression.

“Look, you two. All of you. Tony is right. Zemo was a crisis. Ultron was a crisis. Honestly, T’Challa was a bit of a crisis. No one tell him. And I don’t doubt there are more crisis on the horizon. So, lets up our image because I have no doubt that we’re going to need it.” Sam sighed, offering Tony a commiserating nod and the group mumbled assent, eyes a little downcast.

“When?” Bucky grunted out sullenly and you rubbed your forehead. Of course, he would fall for the guilt trip. Of course, you’d have to go too.

“The seventh.” Tony offered, tone brighter now that he knew Bucky would be making time. Bucky making time meant that Steve and you would both go. And if you went, Wanda would and she would drag Vision. And Sam would follow Steve. That was nearly half the team and if Natasha is anything, she’s one for obligations.

“Is there a theme? Where is it? Are there invite cards with all the information I need or?” You asked, glaring at Bucky’s hand where it sat on your waist. You felt the grip soften some, barely holding on as if he felt your stare.

“Yes, Y/N. You’ll get an invitation. But let me say, right now, that neither of you two are drinking.” You opened your mouth to protest, Thor also with his mouth open, but Tony held up a hand. “We can’t risk it. You guys are ridiculous when you’re drunk. Barnes will not be fighting and Y/N, you will be chained to the wall with a five foot chain if you don’t act like a normal person.”

You scoffed, only to gasp at Buckys understanding expression. He shrugged as if in agreeance and you growled. Today was not his day.

“That is rude.” Wanda sighed and Tony rolled his eyes.

“I am stating a fact. That Y/N acts irresponsibly and without thought when she is drunk, or put under social pressure. This party can only have one of those issues. We need good records and she has to be there. So get it done.” He huffed out, moving sharply to his feet and exiting. You felt the group deflate some.

Rising, you headed round the back of the couch, fingers running through Buckys hair before you exited, feeling his gaze on your back as the door shut behind you.

“Why is he such a butthole?” You sighed, peeling back the blankets and dusting off your feet. Bed dirt was your worst nightmare. Is. Is your worst nightmare. Excluding hidden memories and shadows.

“You know why he’s like that.” Bucky sighed, running his fingers over his stubble thoughtfully.

“Leave it, it’s hot.” You mumbled absently and he smiled at you. “But does he have to be like that?”

“You can’t always have things your way.” Bucky muttered, sliding in beside you.

“Don’t I know it.” You groaned, cuddling into his body and pressing your cold hands to his belly, feeling him flinch at the icy touch. Super soldier? Yeah right.

“You two have to be cool tonight, okay. I can’t… Have either of you behave… As usual. We’re under a lot of heat.” Stark advised nervously and you glanced at Bucky.

“We’re always on our best behaviour, you just never understand, you visionless punk.” You sniped, then grinned.

You get that one? You laughed and Wanda returned the amusement, showing her gaze Vision himself as he brought her a drink.

“Nice one, Y/N. Good work.” He replied sarcastically, already turning away, stress obvious. You exchanged a look with Bucky.

“He’s really tense.”

“He threatened you with chain.”

“You should probably beat him up for that.”

“I won’t.”

“Boring. And it won’t be huge.”

“It shouldn’t be anything at all.”

“You said should.”

“Because I had no idea you were planning on doing this, you just handed me a drink. How was I supposed to know you’d spiked it?”

You stared at him for a moment, uncomprehendingly before your eyes widened.

“No way are you forcing me to take the fall for this. It’s us or nothing. Are we not dating seriously?” You demanded, glaring at the Winter Soldier, who suddenly looked very interested in his fancy shoes.

“I am not in this dress for Tony, Jamie. You owe me.” You ground out and he sighed, eyes trailing over your body appreciatively.

“I’m going to wish you weren’t in that dress.” He sighed resignedly, thinking forward. You gave him a saucy smirk.

“You already wish I wasn’t in this dress.” You flirted and he grinned, pulling you against his chest lovingly. A flash went off and your vibrant smile faded. Right. Cameras.

“Come on, Doll, let’s get you all liquored up.” He offered, eyes understanding at your less enthusiastic face.

“Here he is!” Wanda appeared at your side, her mind link making her the biggest eaves dropper. You smiled up at Thor, his arm wrapped around Janes shoulders as she looked around the room somewhat critically.

What is with all these camera people? Haven’t they seen enough?” She complained, wrinkling her nose some and you quickly touched her elbow, eyes warning. She gave you a puzzled look and you smiled happily just as a flash went off in your faces. “Yeah, I know.” She ground out and Thors expression fell some.

You really felt for the guy.

“Hey, if its any consolation, three floors down is Tonys hidden home theatre, it’ll be empty since none of us Avengers ever get any while there are cameras here. I’m sure once the recovery op is in play you two could sneak out for a movie. A little R&R?” You offered sympathetically but she squared her shoulders. With a serious shake of her head, you watched all her earlier antagonism melt away.

“Alcohol me, Odinson.” Bucky cut in, holding out a glass half filled with scotch. Of course, he’d specifically find scotch, instead of one of the billion champagne glasses floating around.

“Impressive.” You whispered aside to him and he winked at you, before handing you a glass of pink liquid. “You are a godsend.” You marvelled, kissing his cheek.

After scanning the area, and locating Stickler Tony Stark and Buzz Kill Cap, the pair of you held out the glasses, letting the demigod fill them to a three quarter level. Tony would assume you were drinking human alcohol. Then he couldn’t be mad because it is his own fault he didn’t stop it.

“Do you need more? I can get you more?” Thor offered delightedly, ever the respectful peer pressure friend. You shook your head, smiling as you took in Wandas mind, her feet draped casually over Visions lap as the two of them sat, staying out of the mess. She felt content. Though there was an edge of worry that you ignored, since it was about you.

“Thank you, TO, but let’s see how we go first. Jane can be the judge.” You stated decisively, meeting the other womans eyes. You could not rely on any one but her, she’d judge it clinically instead of as someone involved or someone wanting to get their friends very drunk despite the rule that says not to.

With her short nod and smile, you took a sip then linked your arm with Buckys, pulling him off into the crowd to walk and preferably not mingle. You could already feel a warmth in your belly.

“Tony, tony, bo-bony, banana fana fo-fony, fee fi mo-mony. Tony.” You sang out as you neared him and watched him flinch. “Care to dance, big boy?”

You felt Bucky’s presence at your shoulder enlarge and you rolled your eyes. Every time he actually managed to get drunk, he became insanely jealous and protective. Whenever he was sober, he gave you constant freedom, ready to accept the day you woke up and found someone better, someone normal.


Drunk Bucky was your everyday, while everyday Bucky was drunk you.

“I think Tony would rather not dance.” He intoned ominously and Tony nodded surely.

“I definitely don’t want to dance. Are you two drunk? You really are!” He burst out, hands covering his face in horror and you rolled your eyes at Bucky, who was busy glaring at a man that probably glanced in your direction. “How the hell did this happen? Where is Thor? I’m going to kill him. And you two. Did you even think about what you might be doing here? What consequences there could be for your actions?”

Steve appeared beside the man and gave him a sympathetic look.

“Please, get her out of here, Steve. I can’t make her but you can and she’s going to ruin this.” He ground out, staring off into the crowd that the small group of you edged.

“Y/N?” Steve asked gently and you scowled. Why did you have to leave? Why would Bucky get to stay?

Steve took a step closer to you, then you saw a shadow fall over the other man, though it didn’t really cover him.

“No no, Steve.” Bucky rumbled and Rogers sighed, giving the Ironman a helpless look. You were currently invincible thanks to your ex-con shield. Also lover.

“Then keep an eye on them. Natasha too, please?” Tony whined angrily before storming off into the crowd. You lost him within seconds.

“The plan isn’t working, James. New plan because Tony is mean. You romance me on the dance floor.” You grinned and Bucky laughed, pausing to glare dangerously at something behind you. Taking your hand, he cleared a wide path, muttering threats as he led you into the music.

“More alcohol, my lady, my friend?” Thor asked at Buckys shoulder, definitely a little tipsy but still reading the situation pretty well if his positioning was anything to go by.

Jane gave you a smile before taking her boyfriends hand, talking quietly and leading him away before either of you could respond. You watched them walk away, then spun around to face Bucky, leaping at him blindly and feeling his arms wrap around you.

“My girl.” He gloated in your ear and you giggled, eyes closed as you snuggled closer to him. Half releasing him, you settled your feet on the ground and let the super soldier lead you through a slow dance, despite the pounding music. You smiled up at him adoringly and he tugged on a lock of your hair. Another flash surrounded the two of you and your grip unconsciously tightened on his hand, only for you to notice the golden splotches. You tensed nervously and they got bigger, spreading and taking up a little more space.

“Ignore them, they’re not an issue, I’ve got you.” Bucky whispered and you nodded, burying your face in his soft shirt.

“Yes, Sargent.” You muttered, feeling his fingers find your chin and pull you from the expensive clothed hideaway. Your eyes met his slightly glazed ones and you felt a spark fire in your chest.

“I love you. So much.” He murmured, forehead meeting yours as the two of you swayed. You felt yourself relax, the rest of the room falling away.

“I love you too. Also so much.” You grinned and he snorted, pressing his lips to yours firmly, both of you ruining the kiss with your smiles.

The pair seemed more than in love, and they weren’t the only ones feeling the love.
Last night, the invitations to the Stark party were finally cashed in, and all the promises have been kept. Tony Stark and Steve Rogers are partners in crime once more, Y/N Y/L/N and James ‘Bucky’ Barnes are madly in love, Clint Barton didn’t attend, Wanda Maximoff and Vision are more than friends and Sam Wilson beat James ‘Rhodey’ Rhodes in an arm wrestling competition.

“It goes on but I’m not one to gloat.” You gloat, giving Tony a superior look.

“Okay, I’m sorry. You weren’t a disaster and you stopped Barnes from murdering anyone. Thank you.” Tony sighed, rubbing his forehead and you beamed at him. Jumping to your feet, you pressed a kiss to his forehead and left the magazine, darting out the doors.

“Bucky!” You shouted, bounding along until you turned a corner and screeched to a halt. A girl smiled up at your boyfriend, hand on his arm. Your eyes quickly assessed the man, his brow furrowed and the small tilt he had that leant away from her, even the bead of sweat on his forehead.

“Jamie!” You shouted, voice both delighted and viciously sharp. You didn’t even look at your boyfriend, instead stared down the agent who had gone pale. You watched her take a step back and you growled.

“Y/N.” Bucky answered, relief filling his voice. You couldn’t help looking at him and seeing both a warning and actual happiness at your arrival. You blinked then, looked beside him to refocus on the attempted thief, to see her speed walking down the end of the corridor.

“Hey!” You yelped, darting forward only to be caught in James’ arms, twirling you in a circle and kissing you deeply. You felt yourself fall into him, body melting.

“I won’t forget her face.” You warned softly and his shoulders bunched.

Words and things that are in bold to signal the end of this fic

anonymous asked:

Hi, you seem like a clever and understanding person so I want to read your thoughts about Louis in all this mess. I know that he is surrounded by people he loves who are kind to him but does the fact that his image is dragged through the worst dirt is affecting him on personal level? Sorry if it's to personal. I hope Harry is giving him the best of hugs ;)

I cannot really talk on his behalf, I can only share my opinion as an observer and believe me I am all for ending this shit show because it is ridiculous and it has been ongoing for 209 days, and my heart literally stopped when he tweeted the announcement tweet, but I do believe it could be so much worse if he did not have people on his side. 

And this in itself is calming and is probably still hard on the fandom, but the thing is that they are not doing this to *us*, we are not part of the *show*, they are just in an unpleasant situation and they are doing whatever they can to get the freedom they deserve. And because the fandom *is hurting*, it is easy to project that hurt to Louis and Harry and I probably have an unpopular opinion but I do not think it takes that much of a toll on them as it does on *us*. 

In the beginning it was sure hard and I would be naive to think they just took it easily, but I don’t think it was a piece of cake, especially the month-long physical separation in April, but in May they were totally together in LA for a month, and they could argue and talk it out what needs to be done. This is a very heavy stunt.. fooling an entire fandom, fooling the entire world basically, but it was NOT supposed to last this long and that fake baby bump should not have ever been strapped on, but it was.  

I can also imagine babygate being part of a 3 hours meeting when H or L flat out refused to cooperate, maybe even left the room and then after taking a few deep breaths and weighing in the pros and cons they started to think about it, and whatever decision was made, the final one was made together. 

So we are in an unpleasant situation and the worst would be if there was no fan questioning the legitimacy of this *pregnancy*, if the Larries would be turning their backs on him, if there was a common change of minds that this boy seems to change his mind and wants to stay closeted now, or even worse, some could believe that he really cheated on Harry and knocked up a random girl.

I think they somehow learned to ignore the media and I am pretty sure there are moments when they take the phone from each other, to stop checking out the articles or the tweets, because of course they are IN THIS TOGETHER, no matter who says what, Harry and Louis are in everything together and babygate is not an exception.

At the moment there is no win-win situation. He either plays along and posts an ig picture, gets papped with the carrier and tweets some off his account (if that was even him) or he can ignore the whole thing and let the media/Syco/OT spin it and put such a dent in his already awful public image that would take tremendous effort, time and money to correct. GP is good at *forgiving*, but those who leave their kids, leave the baby mama, and who just simply refuse to be in the life of their kid are NEVER going to be in the good graces of GP. Even if it is not true, remember that negative scandals are very damaging.

But the thing is that the news broke in the most coming out friendly way, and although the story is absolutely putting stunts into shame in terms of how far are people willing to go but at the same time they left so many holes in the story that literally all of us are still here. I do not want to sound naive, I am very aware that some stuff are done to ensure us, and I would really quickly like to put a disclaimer here that this is not queer-baiting because we are talking about an actual closeted couple, and yes although there was some Larry-friendliness in the press, the actual red flag was how the MEDIA treated this fetus/baby. And that is not a normal thing and whatever your beliefs are, there is NO WAY the media is mocking an actual baby and an actual pregnancy the way media mocked this fetus. So I think that helped a lot in undermining this story. And it is quite a relief to Louis that people see that.

So I think they cope with it just *fine*, which sounds ridiculous, but tbh he still did very minimal efforts, and when he was done with work he could meet up with Harry, Anne, Robin and just forget about it. It means the world to me that Harry is there with him, that at least that part is covered that we are not getting angsty attacks that H is not there, H doesn’t love him, look how H is in the UK, they broke up etc etc. 

Also when we saw them, I am thinking about the shoeless fan fic and Harry’s quick shopping trip to YSL, they looked well rested, tanned and pretty fine to me.

They are in a business situation, knowing pretty well

  • WHAT is happening, 
  • WHY it is happening (hello yachtgate initial freak out and now the relieved realization and virtual high-fives that it is mocking Simon when I vividly remember how people hated on him after it happened.cough-cough..), 
  • WHEN the next step is and that makes such a difference.
  • THAT at the end they will get their freedom, the freedom they have craved for since the very beginning. 

What you see was their business decision, I am 100% sure of that and they both agreed to go along with it.

Feel free to disagree, I was just laying out my opinion on how I see things. :) 

anonymous asked:

Supercat. 48.

48. “Boo.”

Laughter echoes down the hallway as Cat opens her front door. It’s a regular occurrence for her to come home to, ever since their little family of two had become three, when Kara had moved in with her and Carter just two months ago.

Today, though, her girlfriend is supposed to be in bed resting, and not racing around the apartment after her son, and a frown of disapproval settles over Cat’s face as she shrugs out of her coat and pads down the hall.

She finds Carter hiding behind the couch, stands with her hands on her hips and an eyebrow quirked upwards that only raises higher when he presses a finger to his lips in a silent instruction to keep quiet.

Cat humours him, moving towards the kitchen and the bottle of wine that’s calling to her in the fridge after a hellish week at work, as Kara shouts ‘ready or not, here I come’ from the direction of Carter’s bedroom.

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angel with a shotgun ; pt 2

part one

Luke felt the crisp leaves of autumn crunch beneath the sole of his boot. The human world was nothing like he expected it to be. He knew it was going to look disastrous, but he hadn’t imagined it to be anything like this. It was quiet, no hum of life to be heard.

He remembered what Ambriel had told him before he descended towards Earth. The girl, Cassie was her name, was holed up in an old strip mall. She had hidden away inside the shoe store after a run in with a pack of slow moving zombies. But once they had smelled her blood, they only grew even more feral.

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