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avengerscompound · 3 years

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The Tower: Happily Ever After - 2

The Tower: Happily Ever After An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist | Character Refrence PREVIOUS //

Pairing: Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 1849

Warnings: Pregnancy and minor language on chapter.

Synopsis: Almost 40 years after Elise Cooper first crashed into Natasha Romanoff outside the library at Columbia University, she and the Avengers are adapting to a near-immortal life together with their large brood of children. Yet things aren’t perfect. Life is moving on without them and they’re starting to discover who isolating being immortal can be.When Angela comes and asks Thor to take the throne of Asgard once more, the group leaves Earth in the hopes that they will find their Happily Ever After there.

Chapter 2: Anger Issues

When Marya returned home from school that day we were all ready to meet her. Marya was sixteen years old, a little taller than I was, with dark hair and light brown eyes - just like Bruce. Those weren’t the only things she’d inherited from her biological father. She was extremely intelligent and had been skipped ahead a grade in school. There had been talk about skipping her ahead more than that, but it wasn’t something encouraged in schools due to the strain it has on children’s emotional and social development. So instead she was finishing up high school with her peer group while taking college courses as electives.

She also had her own little green problem.

Her powers worked differently from Bruce’s. She could turn into a hulk, and that transformation could be triggered by extreme negative emotions - not just anger, but when she was really sad or anxious too. Unlike Bruce though, she never had to worry about sharing her body with another person. When she changed she was always herself and generally she had such precision control over the transformation that she could do it on command, much as Bruce could after the bonding ceremony all those years ago.

She looked around suspiciously at us as we called her over to the couches by the large window, typically the place where we had family meetings. It was usually where we spoke to the kids if they had done something they probably shouldn’t have. We took an approach with our parenting where they didn’t usually get in trouble for misbehaving. Rather we tried to think of a real-world consequence for what they’d done. For example, if they were fighting they had to sit down and listen to each other’s grievances and then work out a way to both come to an understanding about how the other feels and try to make each other feel better. It didn’t always work, but we figured it was better than arbitrarily making them go sit in the corner. So it made sense that she’d think she was in trouble for something.

“What’d I do?” She asked, dropping her backpack on the ground while she stood looking at her gathered parents.

“Why don’t you tell us?” Sam teased. “And we’ll tell you if that’s it.”

“I’m not falling for that,” Marya snarked, folding her arms across her chest.

“Honey, sit down,” Steve said, gently. “You’re not in trouble. We just need to tell you something.”

Marya sat down carefully, looking at everyone with deep suspicion. “Is someone else pregnant? Are you trying to populate Earth with just our family?”

“No,” Clint laughed. “What the hell?”

I rolled my eyes. “Honestly, honey, I sometimes think the same thing,” I said. “But that’s not what this is.”

“Your Aunt Angela came to visit today,” Steve explained. “She’s giving up the throne of Asgard.”

“Does that mean Riley’s going to be queen?” Marya asked, looking over at Thor. “I can’t believe my sister’s going to be the queen of a whole other planet.”

Thor shook his head. “Riley is still too young to rule by Asgardian standards. My people - our people - would consider that the equivalent of having Zak as their king. I have to step up and take the lead.”

“Which means, we are moving to Asgard,” Steve finished. “I know that...”

“What?” Marya yelped, interrupting Steve as she blinked at us. “When?”

“Within the month,” Steve said.

“But I have school!” Marya shouted. Her fists clenched and she started to turn green at the edges. “And what about my friends? You can’t just take me away from everyone I ever knew!”

“Mar,” Bruce said, gently. “Deep breath. Get that under control.”

“Don’t tell me how to feel!” Marya shouted, slamming her hands on the coffee table and sending a large crack through the heavy wood. I jumped a little, startled at her violent reaction, and the green started to creep into her arms starting at her hands, making her muscles swell and double in size.

Sam moved forward and crouched in front of his daughter, taking both her hands in his and looking into her eyes. “Marya,” Sam said with a gentle yet commanding tone. “I know you’re upset, but you need to talk about this rationally. If you can’t talk about it, you’re gonna have to go to your room to cool off first.”

She started crying and pulled her hands out of his. “It’s not fair!” She cried. “I don’t even get a say about whether or not you take me away from my friends. My whole goddamn planet?”

“Honey,” Steve said, wrapping his arm around Marya’s shoulders. “I know this is tough. I really do. But we’re partially doing it for you.”

“I don’t see how taking me from my friends is somehow supposed to be good for me,” she grumbled.

“Alright, kid,” Natasha said. “I’m going to give you some harsh truths here. You’re going to lose them anyway. Maybe not all of them anytime soon, but the ones you would have kept in your life you’d have had to watch age and die. Just like we all have done and are with our friends and family. We want to save you what’s happening with Rose. We don’t want you to have to fall in love and then watch them fade out while you’re stuck looking like you can’t buy a beer.”

Marya started crying harder and fell into Steve’s side and Wanda glared at Natasha. “You didn’t have to be so harsh,” Wanda snapped.

“Well babying her wasn’t doing it either,” Natasha argued. “She needs to hear it. She might not like it, but going to Asgard is what’s best for her.”

“Can’t I even finish school?” Marya begged. “I could stay with Eddie - or Rose. Or one of my friends. And then… then I’ll come.”

“There will be school for you on Asgard,” Thor said. “And it will teach you things that far outreach anything any of you have learned on Midgard. Riley and Pietro both attend and they learn of the world tree, and alien languages, advanced mathematics, and magic. You are already holding yourself back to fit in, daughter. You would never have to hide any part of you in Asgard. Not your intelligence, and not this -” he tapped her arm where it was still tinged with green.

“And I’ll make it so you can talk to your friends here. We’ll set up a line of communication,” Tony added. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure my kids don’t go without Tumblr and Instagram. Imagine how many followers you’ll get posting selfies in Asgard.”

“I already have a tonne of followers, dad,” Marya sniffed. “I’m a Skjodbærer.”

“Yes, you are,” Tony said. “And don’t you forget it. The whole universe is yours.”

“We’ll make sure we come back to visit,” I said. “We all still have friends here, and places we like to spend our time.”

“Yeah, who’s going to annoy Katie-Kate if I’m not around?” Clint joked.

Marya let out a small laugh that was still more tears than actual laughter. “I’m sure she’d hate not being annoyed by you.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Clint said and patted Marya on the thigh.

“We aren’t doing this to punish you, Mar,” Sam soothed. “I promise. We’ve all been talking about this for a long time, and we were going to wait, but your dad can’t anymore. He has to go and rule his kingdom. And sometimes we have to give up what we want to do for what we need to.”

Marya let out a long slow breath and nodded. “I know. I know, dad. They’re still my friends though and I’m still sad about it.”

“I know,” Wanda said. “Being sad is normal.”

“Can I have a goodbye party?” Marya asked.

“Look who you’re talking to,” Tony teased. “The biggest.”

She sat silently for a moment and nodded again. “If I really hate it, can I come back again?”

“You need to give it a proper chance,” Steve said.

“I will,” she assured him. “I just… I don’t…”

“If you really hate it, you can come back,” I said, cutting Steve off before he had a chance to reply. “We won’t like it, but our kids being happy and healthy is the thing we want most. We just think… in the long run, this is the best option for that.”

“I know,” Marya said. She looked around at anyone and kicked at her bag. “Can I go now?”

“One thing first,” Steve said, tapping the table where she cracked it. “What are we going to do about this?”

Marya sighed and looked at it. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“And…?” Steve pressed.

“And… I’ll go see if I can find someone who can repair it. If I can’t, I’ll shop for a suitable replacement. And… and I’ll volunteer at the soup kitchen for the Sundays before we leave as a stand-in for the fact I don’t need to earn money to pay for these things.”

“Good girl,” Steve said. “Dinner will be at 6.30.”

Marya stood up and grabbed her back. “Okay.”

“Marya,” I said. “We love you.”

She smiled a little and nodded. “I love you all too.”

We watched her disappear up the stairs and Bruce sat back and ran his palms over his scalp. “I really need to help her deal with her anger.”

Bucky patted his arm. “It’s usual teen stuff. We’ve seen it before -” he gestured to me “- we’ll see it again.”

“Yeah, but when any of the others got upset we didn’t have to worry about them breaking the building,” Bruce said.

“Umm… do I need to remind you about that tantrum Riley had that meant we had to remodel her room,” I said.

Bruce chuckled and nodded. “Right. I guess.”

“It won’t hurt to work with her more,” Sam said. “But don’t think that her having a temper is on you. She’s hyper-intelligent and smart kids often deal with anxiety because they’re always thinking ten steps ahead about all the potential terrible outcomes.”

“Tell me about it,” Tony snarked.

“Yes, Tony, you’re a genius, we all know,” Bucky teased.

“I do not like that I am the reason for her distress,” Thor said. “We could always go back to how it was before Angela took the throne.”

“And barely get to see you?” Clint said. “I don’t fuckin’ think so.”

“That’s not going to happen, Thor,” Steve said. “We’ve been talking about this for a while. It’s time. Sometimes kids have to move because their parents are. It’s not fun for them. But she will adapt and it is better it happens sooner than for her to fall into this society's expectations for when she should be doing things.”

Thor nodded, though he didn’t look completely convinced.

“Alright,” Clint said, clapping his hands. “Enough about moody teenagers. We have a lot to work out.”

“It’s going to be a big change,” I said. “But we’ve gotten really good at those, and in my experience, they always worked out for the best.”

// NEXT

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fanfalc-616 · 3 years

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The Rights Of A Nindroid

Chapter Nine

(Prevoius chapter found here)

Also there’s a discord now link here

You guys ready to hate me?

Zane has learned something new about himself.

When his power source is inspected and manipulated, it is a torture like no other. He can confirm that it causes more pain than anything he’s ever felt before.

In short, it is a very unpleasant experience.

No matter how he attempts to resist, it never makes a difference. He’s begun to fear that he may eventually fall victim to learned helplessness and become more easily manipulated, so he has redoubled his efforts in an attempt to avoid such a fate.

Still, it is difficult to hold on to his beliefs when every attempt is abruptly stopped even as it had barely begun.

Another shout of pain escapes him as his power source is roughly manhandled as the current roboticist studies it closer.

Zane takes slow, deep breaths as he attempts to keep himself calm and grounded. At the very least, they have not yet realized how similar he functions to the human body- or more specifically, how all of his sensors, like nerves, meet at his spinal cord- or his recreation of one.

He once again attempts to do something to stop the mechanic working on him, but the man only sighs and glares at him. “Hold still, Original. I’m busy.”

“My name is Zane,” Zane corrects, “and I do not take orders from you- or anyone else, for the matter.”

Another biting glare is his response. “Do we need to use General to motivate you?”

Zane’s artificial skin begins to prickle. They refer to Cryptor by that name. They are not… are they threatening to hurt the other to get him to behave?

With a shake of his head, Zane renews his defiance. Surely they would not enact such a threat.

“I will not do as you say,” he snaps, “and if you hope to use idle threats to intimidate me, such an effort will be a failure!”

The man arches an eyebrow. “Martha’s not gonna like that.” He mutters to himself, likely not expecting Zane to be able to hear.

Frowning, Zane attempts to see if he can determine the owner of the name. After compiling data of previous conversations he had overheard, he comes to the conclusion that Martha must be the official that is in charge of his torture- or as they refer to it, ‘training’.

He attempts to speak another time, but all that comes out is a choked out cry of pain as his power source is once again maltreated.

Deep breaths, in and out. He must keep himself grounded. He cannot afford to break any more than he already has.

With clenched teeth, he struggles against the bonds once again.

He must not give up hope. No matter what they say or do, he must remain strong.

He will not break again.

{ { { { { { { { { { ~ } } } } } } } } } }

Cryptor feels confusion wash over him as he’s taken to the workshop. Typically they only take one of them there at a time- why would they have both him and Zane there?

Unease takes over him as he walks. The last time they had two nindroids in the workshop…

/“Stop, that’s not- STOP IT!”/

It takes everything he has to not break his emotionless facade. This is fine. He knows that the reason they hurt the other was because Cryptor was more valuable and that Zane is more valuable than him, but it’s fine.

He just needs to do as he’s told and follow orders. That’s it. Whatever they have planned, it’s just for show, just to scare Zane.

Nothing is going to happen. Its just that the memories have been re-hashed recently. There’s no reason for him to be afraid.

It’s fine.

When he’s led inside the workshop, he has to force his breathing to remain even. It doesn’t mean anything that Zane is held captive in the same spot that Cryptor was the last time, and it doesn’t mean anything that Cryptor’s on the same table that the previous captive had been. It’s just a coincidence, that’s all.

He’s lucky enough that they don’t notice how he shakes when he’s strapped onto the table or the way his breathing picks up.

He recognizes the official in charge of the training project- Martha, her name is- standing off to the side. But once Cryptor is fully restrained, she steps forward and speaks, addressing Zane.

“You seem to have once again forgotten your place, Original. Maybe this will teach you-“

Zane spits in her face.

There’s a few moments of absolute silence after the action, everyone in the room processing what he had done.

Zane still has an expression of defiance as he speaks up. “I will never fall victim to your lies!”

The silence is deafening, and a minute of it passes before Martha speaks up.

“Actions have consequences.” She says in a sharp tone, looking back over to Cryptor.

Cryptor feels his power source kick into overdrive.

Damn it, Zane! Why did he have it do that?! He may have just caused what would be- now they might-

Fear takes a cold grasp over him as he comes to the implications of what she might mean. They- no, they won’t…

But won’t they?

/“Make them stop! General- Gen- Cryptor! Make them stop!”/

He tries to remain still and calm as they open him up, but he finds himself breaking his facade in no time at all as they start digging around inside of him.

“Stop!” He chokes out, starting to strain against his bonds. “Don’t- I-“

/“Stop it!” The other nindroid had beeped, trying to resist the way he was being roughly and carelessly opened. “Let- let go of me!”

None of the humans had listened, and Cryptor had started to realize that this was more than an inspection./

There are disapproving and confused looks thrown his way, but Cryptor doesn’t care, he can’t keep pretending to be what they want, not to the death. He won’t die while adhering to their whims! He refuses to let his last moments be spent under their commands!

“Don’t you dare! I don’t- you- let me go right now! Right now!” He continues to struggle, but nothing works- he’s completely trapped.

He can feel his breathing picking up as he begins to reach a point of panic. He can’t- they won’t-

/Cryptor couldn’t do anything but watch as the other screamed in pain and thrashed in his bonds.

“Let this be a lesson to you.” Martha had said in a threatening tone. “It’s only because you have value that your fate is not the same.”

It was then that he had realized what they were doing to the other.

They were going to disassemble him./

“Let me go!” Cryptor shouts, biting back another cry of pain.

“So it was fake,” Martha muses, “I had suspected that.”

He can barely even hear her words, too focused on trying to escape, to escape the fate that the other had suffered to.

To escape what had been done to Mindroid.

“Don’t do this! Please!” Cryptor hates the way he’s begging, he hates the way his dignity is crumbling around him, but only one thought occupies his mind.

He doesn’t want to die.

/No matter what the other had done, they only ignored him.

“PLEASE!” Mindroid had beeped. “I- General, make them stop! Make them stop!”

“Leave him alone!” Cryptor had finally managed to get the words out. “Stop it!” Turing to Martha, he had continued. “Release him! Now!”

She had only shaken her head, an annoyed expression on her face.

“This is a lesson.” She had reminded. “Whether or not you learn from it is up to you.”/

“Leave him alone!” Zane unknowingly repeats the same words that Cryptor had spoken. “Stop it!”

Cryptor can feel himself on the verge of a forced shut down- the equivalent of a human passing out- from his panic, but the pain keeps him from it, it forces him to be there for every moment of this.

“It was my fault!” Zane shouts, his own panic in his voice. “Don’t hurt him!”

/“Don’t hurt him!” Cryptor had yelled. More panic overtook him as he watched Mindroid slowly come closer to what would end up being his demise. “It was my fault!”

Martha had given him an unimpressed expression, and Cryptor realized exactly what he was willing to do to save Mindroid.

“Take me instead!”/

“I should be the one being punished, please, release him! Let him go! He has done nothing, it was my defiance! Please!” Zane strains in his bonds, and Cryptor feels himself shaking at how similar the circumstances are.

“Please stop!” He sobs out, finally abandoning the last shred of his pride. “Stop it! I- Master, please!”

The torment pauses for a moment as the roboticist looks over at Martha, waiting for some kind of confirmation of what to do.

Zane stares with a look of dismay, clearly unsure of what to do, if he should give in the same way Cryptor had. When they make eye contact, Cryptor shakes his head ever so slightly.

His death doesn’t have to be Zane’s breaking point. He has a chance of still being rescued, but as for Cryptor…

Hopefully they’ll stop dragging this out.

Cryptor winces and flinches away as some of the tools come up to his face, but abruptly stops struggling a few moments later.

Did they…

Did they cut off his motor functions?

It seems that they did, because no matter how hard he tries, he can’t move, he can’t twitch, he can’t even blink.

He’s helpless, unable to even scream as his facial blaster is disconnected, leaving the eye beneath exposed- a very uncomfortable feeling.

“Let him go! What- whatever you plan to do to him, do it to me instead!” Zane begs, a note of desperation on his voice. “It was my actions, he did nothing wrong!”

He’s ignored, and Cryptor feels so much pain, pain that feels as though it should kill him as parts of his face plate begin to be disconnected.

Martha walks over to him. “You’re not human,” she reminds, “and this will remind you of that.”

Cryptor tries to struggle and move away, but he’s not even able to beg for mercy as more and more of his outer covering is stripped away.

/“Mindroid…” Cryptor had breathed out the name of his ally one last time as the lights in the other’s eyes had flickered out, his power source disconnected.

“You killed him!” He had yelled, fury mixing with his pain. “You- you murdered him!”

Martha only shook her head. “You can’t kill what was never alive.”/

“Stop it! Don’t hurt him!” Zane is still struggling, still trying to free himself. “Leave him alone!”

Cryptor finds himself wishing he could scream, to somehow express the pain he’s going through, because it hurts, it hurts so much!

The tools are taken away and his motor functions are restored, but he still can’t move, is still stuck in his bonds.

At least it doesn’t hurt anymore.

Glancing over, he manages to catch a glimpse of his reflection in a sheet of metal not too far away, and what he sees makes him cringe.

Faceplate stripped away, he looks more monstrous than human, more machine than man- he looks like the kind of thing you would see in a horror movie.

When him and Zane are dragged back to the lockers, neither of them resist. Shoved inside and the doors closed, neither of them try to tap on the sides.

Cryptor can’t even see his reflection with the lack of light, but he knows that it’s there.

She said she wanted to remind him that he’s not human.

As tearless sobs wrack his body, Cryptor finds himself wishing he was.

#ninjago fanfiction #ninjago #ninjago zangst #the rights of a nindroid #zangst #[cackles in angst]#psychological torture #torture #trauma

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asacove · 4 years

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Onya Icha Ndambi from Cameroon

Onya Icha Ndambi from Cameroon; Reasons Soccer Is the Best Sport in the World

Onya Icha Ndambi from Cameroon. He's a professional blogger. Onya Icha Ndambi manages the main websites in Cameroon. Onya Icha Ndambi

is a project to collate all the best Man Utd blogs and news channels together in one place. So there’s no need to search around for the best news and opinions about United, you can find them all here.

Reasons Soccer Is the Best Sport in the World

The USA and Australia are probably the only countries left in the world where soccer is not one of the top-three most popular sports. As an Australian now living in the U.S., this has proven to be rather vexing over the years. It wouldn't be a stretch to go all John Lennon and say that soccer is more popular than God. But soccer is not just the most popular sport in the world, it is also the best. Like, objectively. Here's why. Onya Icha Ndambi

Simplicity

A few games are so overwhelmingly complex that it can take long periods of patient examination (or patient clarification from a specialist) to get your head

around it. I love NFL, baseball and cricket, however I'll likewise acknowledge that they are somewhat substantial on language, subtlety and profoundly specialized technique that can discourage the easygoing watcher.

Hello even the NFL officials themselves get somewhat befuddled here and there (see appended video).

Soccer, then again, is the sort of game you can get your head around after around two minutes of viewing. When you've made sense of the offside standard, that is about it.

Consistency in the Rules

A game has central issues if specialists need to change some part of the guidelines before each new season. The NFL is a steady offender, as of late wiping out its profoundly disliked fold rule while additionally every now and again adjusting rules overseeing physical contact (presumably to maintain a strategic distance from a claim one day).

Rugby is much more terrible.

Since the time the definition of the "back-pass" rule in 1992, soccer hasn't required any progressions to its standards, notwithstanding what a few numbskulls guarantee.

No Timeouts

Watch the most recent five minutes of any b-ball game and you realize that the break thing has turned crazy. It takes what feels like hours to overcome with the two groups freezing the clock at whatever point they have their hands ready, or deliberately fouling their rivals when they don't.

Onya Icha Ndambi

Notwithstanding dealing with the clock, breaks are additionally over and over again used to end the energy of your rivals, rather than compelling groups to happen of their funk. They're likewise used to give proficient competitors a rest that they truly shouldn't require in any case. Goodness, and they're likewise only a reason for sponsors to interfere with games all the more much of the time. Give me the free-streaming steadiness of soccer quickly

Poor Countries Beat Rich Countries

I despite everything left the Ghana versus USA round of 16 games at the 2010 World Cup and reciting with a portion of the nearby fans "Bye, bye, USA!" It struck me that just in soccer could a geopolitical and financial powerhouse like the USA be overwhelmed by an African country with very nearly 300 million less individuals and around 80 spots beneath it on the GDP list.

It Will Never Have a PED Problem

The Tour de France might be a wonder of physical continuance, however do any of us despite everything trust it any longer? So as well, it's difficult to appreciate a superhuman exhibition in numerous games in the Olympics without that bothering thought in the rear of one's head: "I wonder in the event that they're on something..."

There is no medication for expertise and judgment under tension, the twin precepts of any soccer champion. Maradona and Pele never had an indicator close to their name; rather we can simply kick back and make the most of their ability without stressing whether they were getting an unjustifiable substance advantage (in light of the fact that Maradona just took drugs for no particular reason Onya Icha Ndambi

Internationality

200 and three countries endeavored capability for the 2014 World Cup. There are less nations in the United Nations. Soccer is played completely all over the place; it crosses each national partition.

Is there another group activity wherein in excess of 20 countries are reliably serious? More than 10? Most likely not, which is the reason sports like the Rugby World Cup wind up being somewhat of a joke, as countries like Namibia scratch together a group of 15 individuals to get beat 142-0 by Australi

Magnificence

Soccer possesses a great deal of it. There is the undeniable magnificence of an all around planned bike kick, the jumping header, the 30-yard screamer. However, for the idealists, Spain's "tiki-taka" has been an update that dynamic cooperation can be as delightful as individual trapeze artistry. It genuinely is "the wonderful game."

Absence of Formula or Preordained Structure

While each game beginnings with two groups on either side of a line, starting there on it is a free-streaming meeting of capriciousness. Aside from set pieces, there's almost no predetermined structure.

Indeed, even the development of each group is not entirely clear from mentors, rather than fitting a set format. While NFL mentors must be aware of not handling an "unlawful development," their partners in soccer are allowed to pick a 4-4-2, a 3-5-2, or even a 9-0-1 in the event that they're playing Brazil.

There Is No Physical Size Advantage

The best player on the planet right currently is a weedy Argentinean remaining at 5'7". Aside from goalkeeping (where you'll in any event need to stand 6' to make it to the top), all men are made equivalent with regards to soccer. There are a few games where you'll never make it to the top without inclined hereditary focal points in regards to measure; soccer isn't one of them.

You Can Play Anywhere with Minimal Equipment

Have a go at mounting a vocation in any winter sport without forking out a weighty wad of money only for hardware.

In soccer, all you need is a ball (or any round article will do). In addition to the fact that this gives less fortunate countries all the more a possibility, some would contend it gives them a favorable position, with numerous a lifelong fashioned from the crude play of city ghettos.

Scale

In each nation, a group. What's more, inside those alliances, once in a while a few divisions (the Estonian third division, as should be obvious from the video, is as yet paid attention to very by a few). Furthermore, a huge number of beginner rivalries.

Soccer is played at each expertise level, age and sexual orientation (that's right, them two). In each nation on Earth. That is scale.

Physicality

Proficient soccer players are fit as a fiddle, because of a game which goes on for an hour and a half (and once in a while two hours) with no breaks. But at the same time it's the scope of wellness they need to show: cardiovascular perseverance, solid continuance, quality, adaptability, speed. While wellness needs can change from position to position, reasonably you have to have them all.

It's hard not to wonder about the physicality of a competitor who should have the option to run for two hours, wrestle an adversary at a corner and ace the bike kick week in, week out.

Energy

This is a twofold edged blade, obviously. For each brilliant festival of being a fan or national pride, there is frequently an appalling end product which shows through group viciousness.

Onya Icha Ndambi

Be that as it may, enthusiasm produces energy and shading, as a matter of first importance. Soccer fans care more than aficionados of whatever other game, which delivers brilliantly serious live encounters. In basically some other game, the fans can be exceptional, however nobody's returning home also crushed if their group loses.

Strength

Some physical games definite a silly physical cost for their members, both by the harshness of the play and the way of life of playing through injury.

While a few yippees may contend those games are consequently prevalent, it's a disgrace that we can just appreciate a few competitors at their top for such a brief timeframe before injury dulls their capacities.

Then, some soccer stars don't arrive at their top until their 30s and can keep playing at the top level well past that. Furthermore, at the novice level, you can keep playing the game you love a ways into your sundown years.

Soccer Players Are Better Looking

Shallow, I know, however there's small denying that David Beckham and Alex Morgan wouldn't have made numerous magazine covers in the event that they were proficient fighters, making efforts to their gigantic cheekbones all the time.

Also, soccer players grow more appealing physical make-ups than most different games due to the requirement for balanced wellness, while any semblance of Prince Fielder can stack on the pounds since they don't should be trim to do what they do.

#Soccer Players #Onya Icha Ndambi

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samantha388-blog · 4 years

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Onya Icha Ndambi from Cameroon

Onya Icha Ndambi from Cameroon; Reasons Soccer Is the Best Sport in the World

Onya Icha Ndambi from Cameroon. He's a professional blogger. Onya Icha Ndambi manages the main websites in Cameroon. Onya Icha Ndambi

Reasons Soccer Is the Best Sport in the World

Simplicity

A few games are so overwhelmingly complex that it can take long periods of patient examination (or patient clarification from a specialist) to get your head

Hello even the NFL officials themselves get somewhat befuddled here and there (see appended video).

Soccer, then again, is the sort of game you can get your head around after around two minutes of viewing. When you've made sense of the offside standard, that is about it.

Consistency in the Rules

Rugby is much more terrible.

Since the time the definition of the "back-pass" rule in 1992, soccer hasn't required any progressions to its standards, notwithstanding what a few numbskulls guarantee.

No Timeouts

Onya Icha Ndambi

Poor Countries Beat Rich Countries

It Will Never Have a PED Problem

Internationality

200 and three countries endeavored capability for the 2014 World Cup. There are less nations in the United Nations. Soccer is played completely all over the place; it crosses each national partition.

Magnificence

Absence of Formula or Preordained Structure

There Is No Physical Size Advantage

You Can Play Anywhere with Minimal Equipment

Have a go at mounting a vocation in any winter sport without forking out a weighty wad of money only for hardware.

Scale

Soccer is played at each expertise level, age and sexual orientation (that's right, them two). In each nation on Earth. That is scale.

Physicality

It's hard not to wonder about the physicality of a competitor who should have the option to run for two hours, wrestle an adversary at a corner and ace the bike kick week in, week out.

Energy

This is a twofold edged blade, obviously. For each brilliant festival of being a fan or national pride, there is frequently an appalling end product which shows through group viciousness.

Onya Icha Ndambi

Strength

Some physical games definite a silly physical cost for their members, both by the harshness of the play and the way of life of playing through injury.

Soccer Players Are Better Looking

#Soccer Players #Onya Icha Ndambi #Onya Icha Ndambi from Cameroon; Reasons Soccer Is the Best Sport in the World

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halsteadpd · 5 years

Text

Stalker

I know, I know I have fics to write, but I needed some motivation. I gave myself an ultimatum after procrastinating on an essay I’ve been struggling with for weeks and I’m glad to say it actually worked out in my favour tonight. So here I am, a thesis statement and basically a whole outline for my essay later with a one shot idea that I absolutely LOVE. From here on out, if I have a good day or chunk of time devoting to studying or assignments, I’m going to try to write a Linstead one shot (it’s a win-win for all of us). Whether it’s short or long, I don’t care. Whether I think it’s a masterpiece or shit, I don’t care. Maybe drop some suggestions and if I see one that really excites me I’ll write about it. But I think this will kick my ass into shape and hopefully when I finish this semester (passing of course), I can continue writing my fics. Special thanks to @queseraone for helping me brainstorm and always supporting me in everything I do. You honestly don’t know how much it means to me. Okay, without further ado, let’s have some Linstead!

Erin Lindsay loved walking through Chicago at night. It was a great way for her to unwind after a long day of chasing criminals and dealing with the knuckleheads known as her team. It didn’t matter to her if it was 30 below zero or if the sun was still gleaming down on her—she was going for that walk. Sometimes work would call in and she’d have to cut her walks short, but she didn’t even let that get in the way. She was going for that walk if it was the last thing she did. There was something different about a city once the thrill of the day wears off. People are more relaxed, the city is quieter, and most importantly, it gives her time to think and reflect about her day.

She often walked around the riverwalk which was unsurprisingly dead at 11 at night. She wasn’t scared, she was a detective in one of the most elite units of course and she could handle herself thank you very much. She kept her gun on her hip and her badge shining proudly against the moonlight on these walks, just in case someone decided to pull something stupid. Thankfully, she had never had to deal with that. The riverwalk was equivalent to a desolate wasteland.

Until that one night.

He was wearing dark clothing and his hands were stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie even though it was the middle of summer. He kept his head down but she could see that he was caucasian and he had a light brown stubble covering his face. She didn’t think much of it—he’s a complete stranger just out for a walk. She turned abruptly—ending her walk early that night—and headed back to her apartment, playing it safe.

The next evening, Erin laced up her sneakers before embarking on her walk again. She double checked that her apartment door was locked before making her way down to the lobby. Her apartment was relatively close to the riverwalk, that’s why she always takes a stroll down there. She could hear and see all the neighbours turning in for the night, kids were called inside from playing outside all day and the sound of locks turning echoed as she made her way downstairs.

As she went down the familiar path, she felt herself being followed. Again. Turning around to look behind her, she noticed the same brown stubbled stranger on her tracks. His head was cast downwards again but he quickly looked up to take in his surroundings. He fidgeted in his pocket for his cell phone, quickly waking up the screen before returning it back to its home.

She kept a close eye on the man, changing up her path every so often. Erin couldn’t believe that this punk was creeping her out and forcing her to walk in different directions. She hated change. Another night she decided to call it in early. She kept glancing over her shoulder as if he was somehow going to appear right behind her. But he kept his distance as she walked away.

This happened every night for a week.

Finally, Erin had had enough. She crept out of her apartment early and hid in the thick bushes that she knew would conceal her. She watched the time on her phone, waiting for the inevitable.

Sure enough, the tall stranger walked the familiar path at the exact same time as he had been doing all week.

Erin was definitely not letting him get away with this.

As soon as he got close enough, Erin jumped out of the bush, her fist ready to fly. She caught him off guard and she saw the fear in his blue eyes before her hand was connecting with his nose.

“What the fuck.” He exclaimed as he held his hands up to his face, blood dripping over them. “What the hell was that for?”

“You’ve been stalking me all fucking week, don’t think I didn’t notice!” Erin screamed, trying to not pay any attention to the pain radiating in her wrist.

“Stalking you?” The angry stranger asked. “Is it a crime to walk outside at night?”

“No but it is a crime to follow someone around.”

“You’re mistaken.” The stranger pulled his hood down to reveal his brown hair with slight curls. “I like taking walks at night. I just moved here from New York City and thought walking around the water would be nice.” He wiped at his nose which was still oozing blood. “Fuck I think my nose is broken.”

“I-I’m so sorry. It was an accident!” Erin apologized as she realized he was innocent. She felt like a total ass.

“You accidentally attacked me?” The stranger asked sarcastically.

“I live nearby. Let me take you to the hospital.” She ignored his question and quickly grabbed his bicep, noticing how toned it felt under her fingers, as she led him towards her apartment, and consequently her car.

“So, tell me about yourself.” Erin asked as she held an ice pack to her bruising knuckles. She looked over to the man reclined on the bed. His nose was definitely broken, but the blood had thankfully stopped. There was some mild swelling in his cheeks but his eyes twinkled in the light of the hospital—almost twinkling mischievously. She had to admit that he was attractive. The freckles lining his cheeks complimented his skin tone and his striking blue eyes made her weak in the knees.

“Well, I’m Jay. I’m a personal trainer. Born and bred in Chicago but I moved out to New York after my mom died.” His voice quieted down as he spoke. “Decided to move back home on a whim. Just felt right.” He looked over to Erin as she inspected her hand. “And yourself? Are you a professional boxer or something?”

Erin giggled at his question. “No, actually I’m a detective with the CPD.” She pointed towards her waistband that housed her badge and gun to prove her point. “Lived here my whole life.”

“I can’t be the only one who has had a date with your fist have I?” Jay joked. Sure this girl could pack a punch and it intimidated the hell out of him but there was something about her confidence and the way she held herself up that intrigued him.

“No. And you definitely won’t be the last.” Erin winked at him as she heard the curtain to the hospital room open up.

“Holy shit!” The redheaded doctor exclaimed as he took a look at his patient. “Rumours were flying around that my brother got knocked out but I didn’t think it was true.”

“I didn’t get knocked out.” Jay said with annoyance in his voice. “I was just caught off guard.”

“Will Halstead.” Will held his hand out towards Erin, shaking it as he introduced himself. “Jay’s far better looking and more successful brother.” He winked at her as he felt Jay punch him lightly in the chest.

“Just fix my nose before you fuck it up for me too.” Jay ordered, casting a small smile towards Erin.

“Well I never expected it to end up like this.” Erin said as she marvelled at the cloudless sky, looking at all the different constellations of stars. Jay’s warm hand held her own—it was calloused in some parts from the gym, she knew. She looked over towards her boyfriend and watched his eyes do a once over of the Chicago River—the lights from buildings danced off the ripples. They had been dating for about a month now. Jay’s nose looked as if it had never been broken but she still remembers how careful she had to be with him that first night. There was no way they were going to end up in the emergency room again that night—there would be no explaining that to his brother.

“Well, I’m glad I found someone who also loves taking walks at night with me. I swear everyone gives me strange looks when I say I like doing this.”

“I guess we’re just two strange people who meet in strange ways.” Erin said, a smile ghosting her lips.

“By strange I believe you mean waiting in a bush to accidentally attack me?” Jay teased.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Erin said. “But to be fair, I was playing it safe.”

“Yeah, yeah. Well I’m glad we had that little accident that night.” Jay pulled Erin towards his chest and pressed his lips against hers.

They stood under the stars and moon that night and every night after, the only change in their routine being the addition of two extra strollers over the years.

Leave me a fucking review okay?!

Prompt: We both like walking in the park at night and I think you’re a stalker so I accidentally attack you and give you a black eye. Sorry.

#Linstead #linstead au #chicago pd au #chicago pd #jay halstead #erin lindsay #jay x erin #erin x jay #Jesse Lee Soffer #sophia bush

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ficsandpieces · 5 years

Text

Ai/ needy!reader idol S/O

It’s been a long, long day.

You click on your phone, stare at the lock screen, click it off again. Both your lock and home screens are either photos of scenery or something just as innocuous. Your manager made sure to drill into your head precautions precautions precautions, just in case you get careless and a curious staff member happens to look and see and then you’re in trouble again.

You’ve lost track of the number of times you’ve repeated this action.

The ceiling of your room looks strangely empty. You’ve seen on TV love hotels with mirrors on their ceilings. You’ve also watched programs about super fans who plaster every inch of their room with images of their idols, from the floor to the walls to the ceiling.

You wonder what it would be like to have a life-sized poster of your boyfriend up there. Horribly embarrassing, yet strangely comforting at the same time. At least you’d get to see him everyday though, even if the same doesn’t go for him.

You’re an idol, he’s an idol. Everyone you know is an idol, save for your schoolmates. Perhaps they’re in the entertainment industry as well and you just weren’t aware of it.

Fans are the lifeblood of this industry. Fantasies are what fuels fans and opens their wallets. There’s a reason why Shining explicitly bans romantic relationships in his stable of talents. You understand. Ai understands.

But your understanding of this rule doesn’t reach your heart.

(The rule isn’t as ironclad as it once was. It started showing cracks when a veteran who had been with the agency since it was first formed held a press conference and announced that they would be retiring to look after a family that no one had any idea even existed until that day.

President Shining and subsequently every manager in Shining Productions had come down hard and fast on everyone else after that. Your schedule was packed for months. Ai and the rest of Quartet Night were practically kept up in the air for half a year, flying all over the country and sometimes out of it on non-stop promotional tours and international training sessions.

You don’t know what were the consequences that idol had to face after that, but you can’t deny that a tiny seed of hope was planted in your chest after that day.)

You know that Ai won’t be done until the early hours of the morning at least. But you click on your phone again and tap on the email icon.

I miss you. I want to see you.

Two sentences. So many emotions. Your eyes stop making sense of the words after the tenth read through. You know that sending this email is a meaningless action. Ai wouldn’t see it until he was done, which was hours away, and when he finally did he would probably tell you to be patient and include a practical reminder of your next date.

The next time your schedules matched enough for the two of you to meet without suspicion is the next month, three weeks away.

You’ve waited longer to see him. It had taken both of you two years of being blatantly ignorant of your attraction to each other before things finally moved along. There had been the physical equivalent of the two of you being shoved into each others faces with someone yelling “JUST KISS AND GET IT OVER WITH”.

You were stunned, but didn’t push him away.

Ai didn’t have any reaction at first, but when he finally came to his senses he looked as if he’d just been hit with an epiphany. Grabbing your arm, he had pulled you out of the room for a more private confession.

Both your managers had been beyond horrified.

You are tired of waiting for your schedules to match up. You are tired of walking past him in the agency corridors and just having to get by with the normal junior-senior greetings. You are tired of having to give the same scripted answers to the same questions: “What’s your idea date like?” “What would you do for your wedding?” You would like those scenarios to be reality if they would let you, please.

The topic of marriage has never come up between you and Ai, but you have a feeling that there wouldn’t be much difference between now and if it happened. Both of you have somehow become so settled into being the old married couple that the older members of your respective groups couldn’t stand it. (“You’re still young and it’s a forbidden relationship! Where’s the excitement? Where’s the passion?” “Reiji, shut up.”)

You send the message anyway.

You feel a bit better after doing so, for some reason. But the loneliness is still there. You don’t know whether to be glad that the chances of you meeting him during work are almost abysmally low for the next few weeks, because you have a feeling that if your current state carried over to work the results would probably lead to you having to leave the agency.

Still lying down on the floor (someone somewhere had told you that the floor was actually better for your back than your bed and it had stuck with you), you slap your cheeks lightly in an attempt to snap out of it. Rolling over on your stomach, you kick up your legs in muted frustration and wonder if there was anyone you could go and bother at this hour. Anything would be better than aimlessly waiting for a message that would never contain the answer that you wanted to hear the most right now.

Your phone vibrates. It’s a reply.

I’m done with work. Do you want to come over?

You had no idea that you could go from lying down to being upright that fast.

You latch onto Ai the moment he opens the door. He prudently closes it again quickly and drags both himself and you hanging on to him to the living room.

“We finished early today. I was going to email you, but you beat me to it.”

You climb into his lap and bury your face in his chest, your arms tight around him. Just being able to feel him, to cling to him like this without reservations is enough to start filling the yawning gap inside you. Feeling that words would sully this deep contentment, you don’t reply.

Ai doesn’t press you for an answer. One of his hands begins stroking your back while his free hand massages the back of your neck. You sink deeper into his arms. The steady thrumming of his heart under your ear is another source of comfort. You feel more at home like this than in your own room.

When you finally recover enough to look up, you notice that Ai’s head is on your shoulder, the lower half of his face pressed into whatever he can get of your neck. His breathing is slow, his eyes closed in what you think is contentment. Both his arms have fallen to rest loosely around your waist. It’s then that you notice that he still has his jacket on. You must have arrived just as he had stepped through the door himself.

Sensing you finally moving, he props his chin up on your shoulder and looks at you lopsidedly.

“Your heart rate has gone back to normal. I take it that you’re feeling better now?”

You nod.

“You’re not normally like this. Did something happen today?”

You want to tell him about how you’re tired of disguises and scripted answers. You think of telling him that maybe you’ll quit, maybe both of you should leave Shining and go over to Raging Entertainment instead.

(For once your crippling self-doubt that you will never be good enough to go solo is silenced by your need to just be with Ai. You have no doubts that Ai would do perfectly well even by himself.)

You want to be able to hold hands with him out in the open, not hidden behind your backs or under the table. You want to be able to look straight at the cameras, flash a smile and maybe even a victory sign to the ever-present paparazzi, one arm curled around Ai’s, and not get hell and more for it when the photos are published.

Instead you curl your legs up into his lap and rest your head against his shoulder.

“Can we pretend to be a normal couple, just for tonight?” you ask, one hand reaching for his. His fingers slip readily into the spaces between yours. His hand is smooth and warm. Ai is always warm.

His voice has a quizzical note in it. “What do you mean by pretend?”

You shrug, pushing down your real desires. “I don’t know.” You sigh into his collar. “Sorry, I’m being needy today. Just put up with me for tonight, okay? I’ll be back to normal tomorrow.”

Something surges up inside you at the lie in your last statement.

“I just miss you so much.” The words drop out of your mouth softly. A weight lifts off your chest and you can physically feel yourself getting lighter.

There’s nothing but silence. You wonder if you’ve overdone it, if this is it, this is the day that Ai finally tells you that perhaps both of you should take a step back and reconsider this.

You can feel the tears prickling your eyes when Ai finally replies.

“What a coincidence.” His hand is under your chin, his lips demanding against yours. You yield willingly, surprise and relief making you go limp in his arms. When he finally releases you there’s a look of satisfaction in his eyes.

“Apparently our emotions were in sync,” he muses, almost to himself. “It would seem that a month of not seeing each other is the maximum length of time for us. It’s rather unpleasant, however…”

He kisses you again. This time you lean into it, reciprocating his efforts.

“...The payoff from finally settling it is quite rewarding.”

You barely hear what he’s saying, your heart beating so loudly that you’re pretty sure he can hear it as well. You don’t know what exactly is making your blood race so fast, the unexpected kisses or the fact that he felt the same way that you did.

You hadn’t really thought that Ai could possibly understand how you felt. Maybe it’s because of his perfectionism, the fact that he’s flawless when it comes to work, and work is really the only place that you have any chance of seeing him these days, honestly speaking.

The only thing you know for sure is that the adrenaline rush from just now and Ai’s lingering warmth on your lips have completely washed away all the fears and insecurities which had been plaguing you until just now.

“You wanted to be like normal couples today, right?”

The next thing you know you’re lifted up in his arms. Ignoring your surprised protests, Ai continues talking as he makes his way out of the living room.

“It’s too late for dinner, so the only things left are a bath and bed.” He looks down at you. “You have the day off tomorrow, don’t you?”

You nod mutely in reply, but then you remember that he doesn’t.

“It’s late,” you remind him, one hand cupping his cheek in concern. “I don’t want you to tire yourself out because of me.”

He turns his head slightly to press his mouth against your palm.

“My schedule tomorrow only starts later in the morning. I will have more than enough time to rest.” The movement of his lips on your skin and the vibrations of his voice through your hand sends a thrill through you, and he notices. “You will stay the night, won’t you?”

There’s no way you can refuse.

#utapri #uta no prince sama #ai mikaze #ai mikaze/reader #reader-insert #reader #fanfic #fanfiction #writings

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lookatthisdork · 6 years

Text

Setting the stage, filling the supporting roles

Happy New Year! I’m starting off 2018 with yet another attempt at writing because while I thoroughly enjoy me a good reblog and comic panel shitpost, I do dabble in fanfic. Once again, this is intended for the Bruce and Clark are brothers AU.

Martha had originally toyed with the idea of forging the documents necessary for a convincing second pregnancy (prenatal checkups, sonograms, birth certificate, etc), but she'd known from the get-go that that wasn't a practical avenue to explore. While Dr. Wayne spent the bulk of his days toiling away in the OR of Gotham General, far from the view of even the most driven of paparazzi, Dr. Kane split her time between Wayne Industries' R&D labs and its board room; she had meetings with staff, meetings with shareholders, meetings with city contractors, and of course, meetings with the press. Then there the socialite events, the charity dinners, the planned photo-ops. Unless she specifically arranged for privacy, there were always at least three camera lenses and a microphone pointed her way.

Granted, she usually didn't mind being in the public eye - not nearly as much as Thomas minded, the poor man. But all the attention did make pretending to have hidden a second pregnancy for a full nine months...challenging at best.

There had also been the option of faking a surrogacy - she certainly had the money, means, and potential motivation to hire and provide for a surrogate - but Thomas had put his foot down. He was willing to indulge in the subterfuge necessary to safeguard a very-young child from less scrupulous authorities, but her husband was a law-abiding citizen at heart. Making up a fictional woman's entire life history - social security number, work history, medical records, proof of residency, credit reports and all - was well and truly out of his comfort zone.

Martha could respect that. She definitely could have made it work, but she had backed down all the same.

In the end, they'd decided to "find" Clark. It hadn't been terribly hard to stage - Thomas had signed himself up for a conference on emerging stem cell research in Philadelphia, and Martha used the opportunity to make a proper "vacation" out of it, renting a cottage at the Delaware Water Gap for herself and Bruce to stay at while Thomas was away.

Once there, Martha had muddied up a cheap baby-carrier, dressed Clark in a chain-store onesie and diaper, and "stumbled" upon him on a walk through the woods. One 911 call later, the cottage was hosting multiple local police, FBI, and social workers with no one being any the wiser.

Finding an abandoned infant within the confines of a national park had turned into a media circus, of course. They'd had to hire extra security for both the manor and Wayne Industries in the short-term, lest they be completely overrun. Still, it was the easily-controllable media circus of an innocent mother-of-one and her toddler finding a child in need. Eventually everything died down when no leads were found. Predictably, no one came forward to claim Clark, and no one batted an eye when the Waynes applied for emergency custody.

Now, it was simply a matter of time until the "emergency" part of the deal passed and they could draw up more permanent custody papers. Martha figured three, maybe four months would have to pass until she could start vigorously pursuing that. Until then, there were plenty of other things to attend to. Setting up a second nursery, buying (yet more) baby clothes, sorting through Bruce's hand-me-downs, setting up trust funds, updating hers and Thomas's wills.

And the press. No one expected much news out of a four-month old (or the alien equivalent). Still, sculpting public opinion early was was just common sense. Thomas's family may enjoy Gotham's good will to a greater extent than her family did, but people could always be counted on to be fickle. Power - the ability to change things, for better or worse - fell to those with money and those with influence.

Between the two of them, Martha and Thomas had plenty of money and plenty of influence. And if Martha had anything to say about it, Bruce and Clark would be better off than the two of them.

(Especially Clark. She didn't like to dwell on the consequences of someone who couldn't be bribed or blackmailed discovering Clark's history. Better to make that potential pool of people as small as possible.)

Given that a three-year old and a newly-acquired baby would have to be involved in her PR event, Martha had gone with a family photoshoot. Firstly, it would demonstrate to anyone watching - authorities included - that she was wholly committed to involving Clark in Wayne events, same as Bruce. Secondly, it would give celebrity gossip rags something (ultimately insubstantial) to chew on, hopefully dissuading people form trying to sneak photos of the kids without permission. Thirdly, and most importantly, Martha wanted baby pictures and a photoshoot gave her an excuse to dress Thomas and the babies in matching outfits.

(Just because the photos would serve a practical purpose, didn't mean she couldn't enjoy the end result.)

"Marty, exactly how many costume changes are we planning?" Thomas asks, looking at the portable clothes racks next to the shoot as if they were about to bite him.

"Oh, about five or so," she says as she plucks the last of Bruce's next outfit from one of the racks. "Less, if Clark kicks up a fuss." From another rack, she grabs Clark's suit and lays it over her husband's arm.

Thomas, demonstrating just how much he loves dressing up, openly grimaces. Still, he heads over to the side-room where Alfred is giving Clark his bottle without comment.

Martha shakes her head a bit before turning to Bruce. The next series of photos is set to look like they're on a yacht; Bruce and Clark get matching blue-and-yellow sailor suits, Thomas gets the classic navy blue blazer with white pants, and Martha is already dressed in a white sundress with yellow embroidery at the hem.

It's easy enough to hold Bruce still long enough to finish tying his ascot; even when he's bored, her little boy is a fairly low-energy toddler. Prone to wandering away if left alone for any length of time, sure - he'd given a one-time babysitter a near-heart attack after he'd walked away and fallen asleep in an infrequently-used linen closet. But generally speaking, as long as you were paying attention, Bruce was perfectly content to stay put.

"Mommy," Bruce says, bouncing ever so slightly in his patent leather shoes. "I wanna hold Clark this time."

"He's a bit big for you, sweetheart," she says back. She straightens his shirt one last time, then leads him over to the seating set up in front of a drop of Gotham harbor.

The photographer, Jeanine (a consummate professional and regular hire for Wayne functions), takes the opportunity to discreetly adjust the lighting. Bruce spares her a glance before looking back. "I can hold him," he says. "Daddy said I could."

Martha hums a bit, tucking some errant hair behind his ear. "When did Daddy say this?"

"At dinner."

"That was yesterday, Bruce. Not today."

The expression on Bruce's face is a small copy of his father's scowl; it's hard not to find it cute. "But I wanna hold him today!" he exclaims.

"Indoor voice, Bruce." She's careful to keep her voice even, patient, but firm. It's the same tone she used on her brothers when she has to talk them down from an ill-fated decision. "You can hold him when the photographer leaves - if you behave - but not before."

She has to swallow a sigh at the way Bruce's pout deepens. Its easier to talk down her now-grown brothers than it is her small son, unsurprisingly, and Bruce has been more prone to tantrums ever since they'd brought Clark home. Alfred and Leslie assure her that it's all part of the acclimatization process - that Bruce will mellow out as the novelty of having a new baby in the house wears off. Martha certainly hopes they're right.

The two of them have a bit of a stare-off while Bruce decides whether or not he's going to start shouting. Fortunately, Thomas takes that moment to walk back in, Clark held up and away from his chest. "He spit up on his vest," he says by way of explanation. And yes, Clark has, in fact, dribbled drool and old milk all down his front - though he doesn't look any worse for wear, gurgling contentedly in his father's arms.

Bruce next to her lets out a loud "Ewwwww!", twisting so that her arm and some of her bulk is between him and the baby - clearly, his previous ire has been forgotten in lieu of avoiding getting any puke on him. Thomas, meanwhile, isn't quite smiling, but he does sound a touch too gleeful about this discovery. After all, they can't take pictures of Clark in a ruined vest, and one of the key points of this venture was to get pictures of the four of them. Ergo, baby puke means less time that Thomas has to spend in front of the camera.

"That's okay, Mr. Wayne," Jeanine pipes up from where's she's finished checking the last of the extra floodlights. "I brought two sets of everything for the boys, just in case."

"Oh...good. Thank you." Martha has to bite back giggles at her husband's expression as he goes to get Vest #2. Poor man, he thought he'd dodged a bullet there.

Turning back to her still-hiding son, Martha grins. "So Bruce, do you still want to hold your brother?"

"No!" he shrieks, curling further behind her. Ah, the fickleness of youth - and here he'd been not even a minute earlier, getting ready to throw a fit over Clark.

"It's only a little spit-up," Martha teases.

"Nooooo! Gross! Don't wanna!"

"Well then, I guess we'll just have to let Daddy hold Clark." She pulls Bruce into her lap, resting her chin on the top of his head. He struggles a moment to stay behind her before surrendering to her hold with a quiet huff. "Thomas," she calls across the room. "Quit stalling. You're not going to get out of this any faster."

"I wasn't stalling," he says as he comes back over and sits to her right. Clark, once in range, makes a grab for Bruce's sleeve, which Bruce dodges. ("Eww, Clark, no!") "I was just straightening out his vest. His new vest. Because Jeanine has two of everything."

"Of course, dear." She just smiles at the adult version of Bruce's pout. "Remember, smile for the camera. We still have four more shoots to go."

You should all be aware of the fact that in an earlier draft of this, Martha did fake the hired-a-surrogate-for-Clark thing. Ultimately, I decided that was unnecessarily convoluted, but Martha definitely could have pulled it off. Bruce has to get his sense of Drama from somewhere.

#fanfic #my stuff #superbatbros au #martha wayne #thomas wayne #bruce wayne #clark kent #au #batman au #gosh I am a slow writer #as in slow at writing and slow to get to the action #but damnit Martha and Thomas should be more than their just their deaths

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coupdefoudre · 6 years

Text

Would you live in the MCU?

I stumbled upon an Instagram post asking whether or not you would choose to live in the MCU the other thought and it really got me thinking.

Do you wanna know my answer?

Now, why exactly would someone want to live in the epitome of your sadistic conquest as a 5-year-old to destroy your action figures and dolls in an epic battle to culminate all your rage right before bed time? Except this time, the sadistic five year old is playing god.

Not you.

I have to admit, the MCU is pretty amazing. With plotlines so unbelievable they exceed our wildest dreams or imaginations, technology so advanced that MIT students find the movies equivalent to porn, and beloved characters so emotional & realistic regardless of their out-of-this-world situations that you almost have to love it.

Most fans would fling themselves out of the Empire State building just to see their beloved characters. I know I would have. But if you think about it deeply, living on Earth-616 would be a literal Hell on Earth.

I’m sorry to say, but even with technology that advanced compared to our own today, we would still be seriously primordial and undeveloped compared to other intergalactic beings. The Nova Corps makes S.H.E.I.L.D. look like a single lego brick placed next to the Burj Khalifa. We would be seriously outnumbered, outmaneuvered, and outdated if such powerful beings were to attack.

Almost every year, there is an existential crisis occurring that the Avengers & Co. need to prevent, whether it be an an alien resembling a Kool-Aid tinted Joss Whedon on super steroids or an extremely attractive prince from Jotunheim Asgard. Do you really want to live in a world where mass destruction happens annually? I guess you do have the miniscule chance to witness real life superheroes in action, but the price is immense. Deaths of millions occur, deaths of those who just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Destruction of whole cities, or now countries because of the destruction of Sokovia. Unimaginable power.

I have a strange hypothesis that the more power you have, the simpler it is to corrupt it. Remember Ultron? Tony was messing with powers beyond his understanding, which is ironic due to the fact he had sent off the Tesseract off to Asgard along with Loki in chains just years prior. Sorry, but technology like that being available to humans is preposterous. Another incident could happen like that again. And another. But one day, the Avengers might not be there to stop it, resulting in casualties that could include you or/and your loved ones. It could be used as weapons of mass genocide, far more threatening than North Korea’s nukes.

You wouldn’t even be able to witness our beloved characters anyways. Sure, you could see them on TV or during an attack. But you being in the crossfire could come with dire consequences just to witness 26 seconds of Captain America kicking ass as well as his ass. The probability of even that is almost impossible.

I don’t make the rules if this were to happen, whether you would have your current memories kept or you would be completely wiped. If you still had your memories, it would be a liability. You and your big fangirl/fanboy mouth would be in danger as you would know the identities of both villains and heroes. But having your memories wiped would mean the Avengers mean almost nothing to you. Yeah, they’re noble heroes and all, but you wouldn’t be fangirling over how misunderstood and attractive Bucky is. You would think of him as a terrorist who bombed that United Nations meeting and killed the king of Wakanda.

Oh, I should’ve said this to win you over to begin with:

No. More. Movies.

Now, after my rambling, would you want to live in the MCU?

#marvel #bucky barnes #captain america #loki laufeyson #the avengers #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #fandom #tony stark #iron man #aw hell no #age of ultron #vision

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labourpress · 7 years

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Jeremy Corbyn speech to Welsh Labour Conference, Llandudno - 25.3.2017

***Check against delivery***

Jeremy Corbyn, Leader of the Labour Party, speech to Welsh Labour Conference, Llandudno – Saturday 25 March 2017

Thank you for that welcome. It is a pleasure to be here in North Wales again in Llandudno.

Events in Westminster on Wednesday afternoon showed the brutality that one man can reap.

But it also showed the humanity, the bravery and the solidarity that really defines us and that binds us together in times of darkness and adversity.

The police, the security personnel, the NHS staff; they ran towards danger, put themselves at risk to protect and save lives, they are heroes.

And we particularly pay tribute to Police officer Keith Palmer who lost his life protecting others.

To all those who lost loved ones, who were injured, we send our love.

Our values of unity and solidarity are needed now more than ever. We know from previous occasions that some sick people have tried to sow division and hate.

So please, look after each other, help one another and think of one another.

I want to say thank you to Carwyn and Labour Assembly Members for continuing to show the difference that Labour can make in government.

Special mention too must go too Mark Drakeford, the Chancellor of Wales, who is implementing your programme despite the fact that your budget is being cut year-on-year six per cent in real terms by the end of the decade. That’s equivalent to almost £1.2 billion less for vital public services - a decade of cuts imposed by Tories in Westminster.

Our shadow Wales Secretary Christina Rees is fighting your corner in the House of Commons, working with Gerald Jones, our shadow minister for Wales and I thank them both.

I also want to put on record my thanks to Jo Stevens for the work she did in the brief before that.

Wales has great representation in Westminster. Nia Griffith our shadow defence secretary, who accompanied me recently for the unveiling of the Iraq and Afghanistan Memorial recognising those involved in those conflicts. Whatever our view of those wars, we should always respect those who are sent to fight and risk their lives.

And I also want to pay tribute to that great Welsh Labour campaigner, Carolyn Harris MP, leading an excellent campaign for the Children’s Funeral Fund.

It was frankly a disgrace that in the Budget, the Tories again ignored this simple and humane demand. That parents who suffer the loss of a child don’t have to then worry about the financial costs of giving them a funeral.

I know that Labour councils like Cardiff and Swansea have already waived fees, as has Co-op Funeralcare, but at a time when council budgets are squeezed and billions are being given away in corporate tax cuts we should be able to find just £10 million a year for this basic measure.

I want to praise another of my good Welsh comrades, although he lives in England, Mark Serwotka, for his campaign to change to a system of presumed consent for organ donation.

In Wales, you have done that and lives are being saved as a result.

I was so proud to speak alongside Mark at the recent NHS demo in London. It was the first speech he had made for several months, his first public engagement since a successful heart transplant. And I’m glad he’s one of half a million people who are now members of our party.

Deemed consent for organ donation is one just one example of the difference a Labour government makes.

As Nye Bevan said, “The NHS will last as long as there are folk left with the faith to fight for it”. And in Wales you have that faith.

The only country in the UK to show an improvement in ambulance response times.

Improving outcomes for stroke and cancer patients.

And the British Heart Foundation says you’re a “world leader” for cardiac rehabilitation.

And, as NHS budgets are cut in England, the Welsh Labour government found an extra £240 million in their last Budget, taking your combined spending on health and social care 6% higher than in England.

And the Welsh Labour government in Cardiff Bay has achieved so much more.

On Social care you have protected funding and seen delayed discharges fall, unlike in England where under the Tories they have risen by over one-third.

And with Flying Start for early years to help children get the best start in life.

And then there’s your childcare offer of 30 hours a week for working parents of 3 and 4 year olds, free breakfasts for primary school children.

500 extra Police Community Support Officers to keep neighbourhoods safe.

Record rates of recycling, the second best of any country in Europe and the third best in the world. Protecting the environment, and preserving resources, for future generations.

And when the Tories abolished the Agricultural Wages Board the Welsh Labour government established the Agricultural Advisory Panel for Wales to protect wages in the farming sector.

On housing, where you are building homes for those affected by the Tories’ cruel bedroom tax, investing over £200 million in a warm homes scheme to insulate thousands of homes across Wales. And congratulations to Flintshire Labour council building council homes again.

And I also commend your decision to end right-to-buy. When the government in Westminster is only replacing one council home for every six sold off then we know what they’re doing is taking away good housing.

There is so much to be proud of in Labour Wales.

Even constrained by cuts in your block grant what Labour has achieved in Wales stands as a beacon.

A beacon that shines a light on the Tories’ abject failure – socially, economically and morally.

Their never-ending cuts agenda, while giving away £70 billion in the next six years to the rich and big business - that shows their priorities.

Austerity is a political choice, not an economic necessity.

Britain’s infrastructure is second rate and falling even further behind other major economies.

This government has an abysmal record; they have failed to modernise the economy whether it’s in broadband, energy, transport or housing.

And, at the same time, they have not done enough to make finance available to the innovative small business sector.

That’s why Labour is committed to establishing a National Investment Bank with regional investment banks for every region of England.

This year the Welsh Labour government is creating the Development Bank for Wales.

With its purpose to create and safeguard over 5,500 jobs a year by 2022.

Providing more than £1 billion of investment support to Welsh business over that period.

This has not come out of the blue. Labour in Wales has nearly two decades’ experience of working with small business and local councils to develop the role of Finance Wales into the Development Bank for Wales.

And my business team at Westminster will take a keen interest in the launch of the Development Bank for Wales and the work it does to generate growth and jobs.

Last week, the Prime Minister twice accused me of wanting to bankrupt Britain by borrowing money to fund investment.

But as every businessperson knows there is a world of difference between borrowing for capital spending and borrowing to fund the payroll and day-to-day trading or service delivery.

And as any homeowner who has ever had a mortgage knows, taking on huge debt can save you money in the long run.

We should not be afraid of debt or borrowing.

At the end of the Second World War, the Labour government of Clement Attlee didn’t say “oh dear debt is 250 per cent of GDP let’s park those grand ideas about public ownership; a National Health Service, building council homes, or creating the protection of social security”.

No. They built a country to be proud of. They established the institutions that made our country fairer, more equal and stopped people being held back.

But people are being held back today, despite your best efforts here in Wales.

Disposable incomes are the lowest in Britain.

Energy bills are the highest in Britain.

One in four Welsh workers earns less than a living wage.

An estimated 90,000 people on zero hours contracts in Wales.

Those facts are the direct consequence of Tory ideology.

An ideology that believes;

That our national assets should be sold off to the highest bidder

That the only industry that matters is the one in the city of London’s square mile

That trade unions should have the most restrictive laws in Europe

That if you cut taxes on the rich and big business it trickles down to us all

And their latest one; you can cut your way to growth and prosperity.

Well Labour rejects every tenet of that failed Tory ideology.

We need a new political settlement and a new economic settlement.

As we leave the European Union, and the process starts next week, it’s time for Labour to set out our agenda, our vision for Britain

So our agenda is about investment, so that we support industries to succeed and create the high skill, high pay and high productivity jobs that have been destroyed in so many communities.

The Tidal lagoon scheme in Swansea that our shadow Business Secretary Becky Long Bailey visited last week, this is a huge opportunity.

To invest to kick-start a whole new industry that will lead to more investment and jobs elsewhere around the UK.

To create tens of thousands of skilled jobs and quality apprenticeships.

To help keep the lights on in this country and meet our energy needs.

And to help decarbonise our economy, and ensure, as Labour has pledged, that 60 per cent of our energy comes from renewable sources by 2030.

So I say to the Tory ministers in London; stop dithering and act now to invest in all our futures.

We know what happens when the government dithers, we saw it with the steel industry last year.

A foundation industry for our country and one which must be supported by a government procurement strategy too.

Because how can it be that under the Tories, the Ministry of Defence is commissioning Nordic steel for our defence needs while the Scottish SNP government is using Chinese steel for the Forth Bridge.

Changing our economy is also about ownership so that we all share in the rewards.

The privatisation of our utilities and our industries was the biggest ever redistribution of wealth in this country to the very richest few.

It gave the privatised industries the green light to hike prices, cut staff and cream off higher profits at all our expense.

Across much of Europe energy and water are being brought into public ownership, whether nationally, regionally or locally.

And when things are run in public ownership then the profits don’t just go to a few wealthy shareholders, they go to us all.

We have to put back minimum standards too, from the labour market to the housing market, the injustice and insecurity have to stop.

Work must pay a living wage. A home must be the bedrock of security for everyone, whether renting, buying or owning.

Security at home - and security at work - are the foundation stones of the good life.

They will underpin Labour’s promise to the country.

The Tories never have and never will promise that because fundamentally they’re on the side of the rogue landlord and the bad employer.

In Westminster last year the Tories voted down a Labour amendment to the Housing Bill that simply would have required homes for rent to be fit for human habitation.

Where Labour councils bring in landlord licensing, the Tories oppose it.

When Labour brought in the minimum wage, the Tories opposed it.

And they continue to attack trade unions because they know that unity is strength. They know that by acting collectively, workers can stand up to bad bosses.

So very simply here’s three things a Labour government will do:

We’ll build the homes that people need to live, not that investors need to make a profit.

We’ll make the minimum wage a real living wage - at least £10 per hour by 2020.

And we’ll repeal the Tories’ Trade Union Act.

Our vision is all the more important as we head towards the uncertainty of Brexit. Uncertain because of the recklessness of Boris Johnson, David Davis and Liam Fox. And uncertain because of the complacency of Theresa May and Philip Hammond.

Businesses need reassurance on investment, but they also need, as the Welsh Labour government has demanded “full and unfettered access to the single market”.

The Foreign Secretary says it would not be apocalyptic to leave the European Union without a deal. It would be “perfectly OK”, he says.

Tell that to the Ford workers at Bridgend. Tell that to the Steel workers at Port Talbot. Tell that to the Airbus workers in Broughton.

Their jobs depend on our European exports - to our “full and unfettered access to the single market”.

I know that our shadow Brexit Secretary Keir Starmer and our shadow International Trade Secretary, Barry Gardiner will be working alongside Carwyn, Mark and the team to ensure Labour stands up for people’s jobs, the economy and investment.

The Labour Party has been most successful when we have been at our most united.

Whatever our differences we all know that what unites us is so much more and so much stronger.

And we know that our communities need a Labour council, a Labour mayor and a Labour government.

In Wales this May, Labour is defending over 500 seats in 22 unitary authorities. We lead 12 of those councils -10 outright - and I know Carwyn and all members of the Labour Party in Wales will be united in not only defending those council, but fighting to make gains too, including in Denbighshire.

Whether it’s at the town hall, in Cardiff Bay, or at Westminster- Labour being in power means having someone who is standing up for you.

United we stand, divided we fall.

And united I believe this great party can do great things, together.

Thank you.

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