#but we’re keeping it for the sake of the quote

[rosewaterandivy]

vena amoris

Summary: some part of me must have died / the first time that you called me “Baby”

Pairing: s.h. x reader

W.C.: 2.5K

Themes: the usual— repressed feelings, smut mentions, Cabaret quotes, Steve ‘down bad’ Harrington™️

A/N: well ahoy there! Did I take a mental health day and brain rot this into being? You bet! Title is Latin for “the vein of love.”

“Oh god,” You’d remarked, with a knowing smirk and lifted brow. “Can you imagine?”

Your tone brokered no argument. It wasn’t a whimsical, starry-eyed, sigh filled statement coming from a naive girl.

No, instead it was a wry, flippant remark laden with sarcasm and pity as the woman by the college green gleefully sobbed out a yes, yes, of course! to a polite smattering of applause as her newly minted fiancé slipped a sparkling band onto her finger.

“And on graduation day, no less.” You bat away the few hairs that had flown into your face buoyed by the summer breeze, your graduation gown fluttering about your legs. “Damn my guy, let the woman have her moment jeez.”

Steve struggled to laugh and maintain composure, because the thing was, he actually could imagine it, and had even done so himself from time to time. The time honored predicament of “keeping it casual” while remaining friends.

He remembers it clear as day, how you’d met in front of the dining hall as he’d overslept (again) and rushed to shove his pockets full of cereal before his morning lecture so as to not fall asleep during Macroeconomics.

”Hey, Buck-o!” You’d crowed from the table riddled with pens, to-go coffee cups, and clipboards, “Are you registered to vote?”

All he can remember thinking, after the pre-requisite it’s too damn early for this was the ever eloquent, well, fuck me.

Nevermind that you were wearing a Reagan Ruined Everything shirt accompanied by the flaming visage of the man. Nevermind that your friend merely snorted at your bombastic accosting of students for the sake of democracy. Nevermind that several people had shoulder checked him in their rush to get waffles and coffee.

”Ritchie Rich,” You’d said with a smile, “Voting solely for your interests or ready to join the proletariat with the rest of us?”

It was an unlikely friendship, to say the least. You, a blue-blood former ballet dancer until “my tits grew in” majoring in poli-sci and him, the sole progeny of a captain of industry on the ivy-league to corporate office pipeline.

So, it really was inevitable that you’d fall into bed together. Even without your grandparents wheedling and match-making attempts. But still, you weren’t dating— he wasn’t that kind of guy and you weren’t even interested in a relationship anyway.

It was sex and friendship, that was all.

Argento movie marathons because it was “a crime you’ve never seen something outside of a cineplex, Harrington,” underneath mountains of a goose-down duvet. Trips to the Cape just to pass the time, M&M’s riddling the hardwood floors in front of a roaring fire with his head between your thighs. Dragging him out on cold autumn mornings to canvass for local elections. Late nights where you’d pass out in front of the flickering tv screen after watching Bitter Rice.

Sure, Robin side-eyed the entire situation and Dustin never failed to remind him how much of an idiot Steve was being. But, in fairness, it was never something that struck either of you as odd.

It was college, people do weirder and more detrimental shit all the time without the evergreen excuse of misguided youth. Who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth?

Eddie was the one to ruin it all.

“Dude,” He’d said, surprisingly serious as he loaded up his bike for the drive back to New York. “Not for nothin, but if I were you Harrington,” He inclined his head toward where you were at the coffee cart. “I’d lock that shit down.”

”Whaddya mean? We’re just friends.”

“Sure buddy,” Eddie laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Keep tellin’ yourself that.”

But did he really think about it after that? Of course not, just continued to careen toward graduation and the inevitable.

He was destined for great things, according to his father: continuing the family legacy and filling the coffers, working abroad in Europe for year post-grad and securing those overseas accounts.

So when he wasn’t suffering through mind-numbing lectures, and being at dear old dad’s beck and call, Steve was doing what he did best: wilding with the gang or hanging out with you.

Which mostly resulted in fucking at increasingly creative locations at your place or his, but he digresses.

His graduation was uneventful— his father sternly nodded his approval while his mother posed them like dolls for a family photo. They’d drug him to a prolonged who’s who of his father’s connections under the guise of a celebration dinner, to which none of his friends had been invited.

Steve had schlepped himself back to the apartment, less drunk than he would’ve preferred given the circumstances. Only to be greeted by you at the door, in one of your more creative get-ups consisting of a 1920’s boudoir set with stockings.

Plum-painted lips split like a ripe fruit, white pearly teeth gleamed in the dim hallway light. And his heart nearly beat its way out of his chest.

“Willkommen, bienvenue, welcome,” You gently kick the door of his apartment the rest of the way open to reveal people packed to the brim inside— Robin, Dustin, Eddie.

“Fremde, étrange, stranger.”

Because of course you’d throw him a going away party, themed no less (“Cabaret only seemed appropriate since you’re Berlin-bound come morning,”). The drinks are flowing and the music is thumping and all he wants to do is kiss you, so he does.

And the world doesn’t cease to turn, the music doesn’t stop, his friends don’t give a damn. No one is shocked by this turn of events, not even the elusive ex of Stanford fame Nancy Wheeler.

Because if there’s one thing that everyone knows, well everyone excluding you because if you somehow caught on to him Steve might actually drop dead right then and there—

What everyone knew was this: Steve Harrington was not and had never been a casual guy.

He heard Eddie mumble something about Sisyphus into his drink before pulling him off of you. Your lipstick was smeared and a little patchy now, but he sure as shit didn’t care, his own mouth was probably branded now too, bruise-colored as if he’d bitten into an overripe stone fruit.

A big deal is made about getting the King a drink, as Eddie all but frog marches Steve to the bar.

“So,” He greets, clapping him on the back, “You’re down bad.”

Steve nearly chokes on the beer, the frothy foam ticking at his nose. He swallows past his heart lodged in his throat, and shakes his head.

“It’s nothing.”

“Tell that to your mouth, Liza,” He sweeps a thumb against Steve’s bottom lip, it comes back riddled in purple lipstick. “You know you leave tomorrow, right?”

Steve turns back to the bar and signals for a shot of something, anything really. He sips at his beer in the interim, letting Eddie’s declaration linger in the air between them.

They drink in silence until Robin stumbles in, dragging Steve away claiming “besties before the resties!”

He spies you and Dustin chatting nearby, you catch his eye with a lascivious and exaggerated wink before throwing your head back in laughter at something the dingus had said.

The party rages on for hours— he’s already packed and ready to go for his flight tomorrow, and he knows you’d put a lot of effort into this send off, but Steve would like nothing more than to wrap himself around you and fall into bed. Eventually someone catches onto this and alerts the guests that they “don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here!”

Steve doesn’t know who to thank for that, Nancy maybe. He’ll figure it out later. At that moment, he was more concerned with getting those glasses out of your hands and that garter belt on the floor.

“Hey, you okay?” You’d asked in the early morning light, watching as he stumbled into his pants and threw on a shirt.

Your face was freshly scrubbed of your makeup from last night, soft and open as your eyes trailed him from your spot in his bed.

He was a weak, weak man when he’d sat down with a sigh and asked, “Tell me not to go?”

He can hear you shuffle across the bed, can feel the warmth of your body as it drapes against his back.

“Tell me not go to,” Steve continues, “Tell me to blow off my dad, the Harrington destiny, tell me to fuck it all and that I can figure something else out.”

You nose along the column of his throat, lips settling at the nape of his neck. His hand finds its way to yours, arms wrapped against his shoulders, fingers dancing along his collarbone. He links a solitary finger with yours crooking into each other like monkeys in a barrel.

“Oh babe,” You sigh, the pet name rolling prettily off your tongue, “You know I won’t do that, as much as I would delight in smearing the Harrington name.”

You grip him all the tighter.

“You have a plane to catch and a life to start. A life you were dragged kicking and screaming into but you know what?”

“What?”

“The only way out is through, Steve.” You rest your head on his shoulder, continuing, “The changes you want to make? Well, it’s your life so make them. Who’s going to stop you? You’re a blue-blood white man in a world built to serve people like you.”

“Are you going to lecture me about the patriarchy? Because it’s too early for that—"

“I’ll spare you, just this once.” You tease, “But no, I’m just saying that you have options and it’s a year away from your father. Take advantage of it.”

Steve knows you mean well, that you’re trying to put a positive spin on his departure but still, it hurts.

He stands back up with what he hopes is a believable smile on his face. He expects to see you settled back in the sheets when he turns around, not hopping on one leg as you attempt to jam your foot into your Vans with one hand, while clawing into a bra with the other. Somehow, you’re already in sweatpants.

He can barely restrain his laugh, “What’re you doing?”

“Uh, accompanying you to the airport, duh.”

And if his heart wasn’t already broken, surely this would’ve been the nail in the coffin.

“No, don’t get up.”

“Too late for that.”

“My bags are already in the car,” He tries again, trailing after you from the bedroom to the kitchen.

“Great! Do we have time for coffee?”

“No, seriously,” Steve catches your hand before it can land on the doorknob, tugging you back from the door.

“But,” Your voice has lost its joking tone and you can’t bring yourself to look him in the eye. “I have to say goodbye. I have to wave at you from the gate.”

“They won’t let you past security.”

“Then I’ll wave from there,” You say with a sniff, blinking the tears from your eyes. “I have to go, please.”

Steve, in that moment, chooses to glance up at the rafters of his loft apartment in an effort to keep his emotions in check. So he misses how greedily your eyes take him in, as if it’s for the last time, how you’re biting your lip so hard as to draw blood.

And by the time he looks back down again, you’ve found a spot on the floor to stare steadily at.

“Hey,” He says, curling a finger under your chin prompting you to glance up. Steve gives you a watery smile at best before imploring, “I need you to listen to me, please.”

He waits for your nod of assent before continuing.

“Everything is all set— I’ve paid the rent on the apartment for the next year, so you don’t have to worry about that. I know you won’t use the car service, but there’s a few more weeks left on that too, so.”

Your face falls with the finality of it all. That Steve is actually leaving, that he’ll be in Europe for the next year “growing up” as his father intended. And that maybe you should’ve done more to help him want to stay.

“There’s a ticket for you on the counter for after midterms, I’ll meet you in London and we can do whatever you want, just like we agreed.”

You nod quickly and take a short breath. He kisses you on the forehead and promises to call once he lands.

As his hand twists open the door, you blurt out:

“Please don’t do this. Let me come with you to the airport. You’re going to be gone for so long and—"

“Baby.”

And you know he’s serious because that diminutive is solely reserved for when you’re at least two orgasms deep and he’s got your knees up by your ears. Sweat-slick and ruddy-mouthed, your whole world narrowed to focus on him, desperate longing veiled by throes of passion.

Steve doesn’t even turn back, and you can hear how his voice shakes. “If you go with me, I won’t get on the plane.”

Your arm drops from where you’d reached after him, hadn’t even registered the action as you did it.

In a small, guilty voice you say, “I know.”

The muscles of his back feather as he sighs, his grip on the doorknob knuckle-white. He knows you can’t really mean it, that it’s the scared, vulnerable part of you stumbling as you offer him an olive branch; a way out.

In the end, he got on the plane anyway.

Smash-cut to a year later, the same college green but this time it’s not him in the graduation cap and gown. Steve took the week off for your graduation festivities, flew back into Logan then rented a car for the drive to Cambridge. Made nice with your parents and grandparents, shook your grandfather’s hand politely when he’d said that Steve was a “fine boy from a fine family,” and tried in vain to forget the fact that this is the same man who’d learned his granddaughter was sexually active with him, mind you, in front of no less than a missionary, a minister, and a rabbi.

But all of that is neither here nor there, as you clap politely for the newly engaged couple, pinning your mortarboard beneath your elbow. And because he knows you, Steve catches your eye roll sequence, surely at the audacity of That Man who proposed on his girlfriend's graduation day, from Harvard no less.

He snatches the satin covered cardboard from you, and throws an arm around your shoulders walking you toward the rager of a graduation party Eddie was throwing at your apartment.

“I know,” He says conspiratorially, relishing as you lean into him. “God forbid a woman do anything.”

Your laugh is a good distraction for him, something loud and joyful to focus on as the ring box in his left pocket sinks like a stone.

[everybody-loves-purdy]

I’ve seen a few people lately share what warriors characters they think represent the seven deadly sins, and I’ve had a think about it too and come to my own conclusions. And I thought it would be fun to include a relevant quote for each one.

Wrath : Darktail

But it wasn't a claw Darktail lowered toward him. It was his head, as he bent down to whisper in his ear. "I will destroy you, and all the Clans, for what you did to me.”

Onestar’s Confession Chapter 29

Pride : Skystar

“That’s the problem Clear Sky.” Thunder lashed his tail. “I can’t tell you anything. You think you know it all. But you don’t! You can’t tell good from bad, you never could. But you’re so determined to be ‘right’ that you’ll twist everything to prove it. If you mistook a fox for a rabbit you’d keep calling it a rabbit while it tore out your throat, just because you’d rather die than admit you were wrong.”

A Forest Divided - Chapter 12

Lust: Ashfur

“Are you ready to fight me?” Squirrelflight demanded. “Because that’s what you’ll have to do, if you want to stop me.”

“No, I don’t want to harm you,” Ashfur meowed. “I still love you.”

Squirrelflight’s only response was to turn away from him with a disgusted hiss. Ashfur blinked and looked away briefly with a dip of his head. To Shadowsight’s surprise, he seemed genuinely hurt, as if he couldn’t believe that the dark ginger she-cat had rejected him. How could Ashfur possibly think Squirrelflight would go along with him, now or ever? Shadowsight wondered. Then he realized that Ashfur wasn’t thinking straight at all. His obsession with Squirrelflight was making him ignore what was right in front of him.

“Why are you forcing me to do this?” he asked plaintively. “If you would just admit that you love me, I could stop.”

The Place of No Stars Chapter 15

Greed: Tigerstar (I)

As Fireheart said good-bye to Yellowfang and went back to hunting, he felt a new surge of determination to bring Tigerclaw's guilt into the open. For the sake of Redtail, murdered; for Ravenpaw, driven from the Clan; for Cinderpaw, crippled. And for all the Clan cats, both now and to come, who were in danger from Tigerclaw's greed for power.

Forest of Secrets Chapter 4

Gluttony: Slash

Juniper grunted. “We shouldn’t have to go hunting when food is rotting in camp.”

“Why doesn’t Slash share it?” Raven growled angrily. “He gives the best pieces to Splinter and Beetle and leaves the rest to turn sour when we’re eating scraps.”

Path of Stars - Chapter 12

Sloth: Sol

"Ask me if Sol joined in the fight," Pod rasped. Brambleclaw cocked his ears. "Well?"

"He didn't raise a single claw to help us," the old tom growled. "He wasn't even there to watch! He just strolled in here while we were licking our wounds."

"What happened then?" Brackenfur asked. Jingo twitched her ears. "If he'd admitted he was wrong, it might have been different. But he insisted that we were the ones who decided to fight, and it wasn't his fault that we lost. Then he sat down and started washing himself, and asked Jet to bring him some food."

Sunrise Chapter 11

Envy: Mapleshade

"I earned my place in the Dark Forest. But what made it worse was that the father of my drowned kits took a RiverClan mate! He promised he would only love me! They had a daughter, and she had a son, and do you know who that son was?"

Crookedstar shook his head, trying to keep up. “Shellheart," Mapleshade snarled. "Your father." Her paws were trembling. "Do you see now? Do you understand?"

"Understand what?"

"You mouse-brain! My kin should have been the leader of RiverClan, not his! If ThunderClan hadn't driven me across the river, my kits would never have died. If RiverClan hadn't rejected me, I'd be their father's mate, not some fish-hearted RiverClan queen." Her breath was coming in gasps now. "I’ve endured so much betrayal! So many cats have hurt me beyond measure. And then you came, destined for so much greatness, when you should never have been born!"

Crookedstar’s Promise Chapter 39

[allwaswell16]

[4 pics, 4 quotes, 4 iconic 1D fics]

Iconic Fics by...

- kingsofeverything -

[1]

“It wouldn’t annoy me. I like talking to you. Hearing from you. You know that.”

Louis does know, though he tries not to think about it. Every time Harry says something like that, something kind or sweet or sincere, Louis laughs it off or makes a joke or changes the subject. It’s bad enough that he has to live with Harry, sleep beside him every night, spend all of his time with him… He has to fight it because he can’t let on how easy it would be to fall back in love with him.

It’d end badly. There’s no way around it. Because when Louis leaves in nine months, he’ll be gone for the next five years of Harry’s life. Five years that Harry hasn’t lived yet—Harry’s future—and neither of them know what’s coming. Louis can’t fall for Harry again when he knows it’ll end in heartbreak.

Once was enough.

[2]

“So, um…” Louis taps his fingers against his knee, and Harry wants to lay his hand on top of Louis’ to stop him, but he refrains, unsure what casual touches mean between them anymore. “We’re having a baby?”

Harry turns to find Louis looking at him hopefully, eyes wide. The corners of his mouth twitch upward. “It’s not a fantasy, Louis. Jesus. This isn’t a game.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You didn’t have to,” Harry says. He clenches his jaw and then forces himself to relax. Stress isn’t good for the baby.

“Harry, I’m not— I know this is different.”

“Do you?” Harry asks, because it doesn’t even seem real to him right now.

“Yes! I told you about all my siblings. My mom’s a midwife, for fuck’s sake.”

Harry cringes. “Sorry.”

[3]

“You think you’re going to fix the house by yourself? What if you fall off the roof?”

“I’m not going to fall off the roof.”

“Still. You can’t. I’m not okay with that.”

Harry rolls his eyes and closes his laptop. “Fine. Then after the insurance agent is done with their shit, we get someone else to do the work. I know people in town who can do it. I was just trying to save us money.”

“You misunderstand, Styles. I mean I’m not okay with you doing it by yourself.” Louis crosses his arms and smirks. “I’m going to help.”

Harry laughs so hard that when Louis shoves him he actually slips off of his stool and stumbles a bit. “That is the worst idea I’ve ever heard. You’re going to push me off the roof, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

[4]

Harry glances over, line between his eyebrows, lips pursed. “Okay. Let's start simple. I want you to be the Louis who sits at the desk across from me and sometimes brings me coffee and makes fun of my favorite salad. And I want you to also be the Louis on this trip who tickled me until I almost threw up and who held my hand in a hot air balloon and who cleaned the sand out of my eyes. And, even though you have, like, some other guy out there with like ‘circumstances’ or whatever keeping you apart, I want you to be my boyfriend. At least for a little while.”

“Harold,” Louis says, pressing his fist to his lips and closing his eyes as the feeling of relief settles over him.

“What?”

“The circumstances are that he, well, he had a boyfriend. And we work together,” Louis says, raising his eyebrows, and waiting for his words to sink in. 

“Oh…” Harry scrunches his nose and twists his lips, but can’t hide his smile. “It’s me.”

- answers below -

1- The Second Hand Unwinds 

Louis Tomlinson is one of the first members of NASA's top secret Chrono Exploration Program. When things go wrong and he's sent further back in time than planned, he has no other option than to show up on his ex-boyfriend's doorstep.

2- Say Something

At fifty years old and recently divorced, Omega Harry Styles isn't interested in dating. When his doctor suggests a heat and rut matching service, he signs up out of necessity. It’s the only use he has for an Alpha in his life.

Twenty-eight-year-old Alpha Louis Tomlinson aims to change that.

3- Don't Want Shelter

Louis and Harry have known each other all their lives. Friends as children, they danced around each other as teenagers, and have spent the last twenty-five years either screaming at each other or not speaking at all. Except for that one time ten years ago…

When Hurricane Nicole threatens the coast, they end up stuck together in their families' old vacation home that they begrudgingly co-own.

During the storm, and in the months after, they’re both forced to reevaluate their history and what they mean to each other.

4- Have Love, Will Travel 

Rather than spend the summer working at their desks, Louis and Harry are given the opportunity to crisscross the country together in a tiny camper, filming their adventures for a YouTube series.

It soon becomes obvious to their viewers that there’s something more than friendship between them. Eventually, they figure it out.

[fanartandfanfiction]

Hogwarts Legacy modern AU

MC: -slams door open- We have a problem!

Ominis: -sitting on his bed in pajamas- Oh hello MC, do come in.

MC: Meatball doesn’t have a middle name!

Ominis: What?

MC: He doesn’t have a middle name, or a last one! He needs a full name!

Ominis: For god’s sake, it’s one o’clock in the morning, how did you even get in here?

MC: Sebastian and I just got back, he’s taking a shower.

Ominis: -sighs- What ridiculous adventure did you two go on this time?

MC: The less you know, the better, but focus! He needs a middle name!

Ominis: How much coffee have you had?

MC: Three cups, what about Bartholomew?

Ominis: Why can’t he just have one name? Lots of people have just one name. Cher, Prince, Madonna…

Meatball: Flower is here!

MC: There’s my sleepy boy! Come here. -climbs onto the bed beside Ominis-

MC: Ok Meatball, here’s your buttons. I’m going to read off a list of names, you tell me if you like them.

Ominis: Could we please do this in the morning?

MC: It’s 1:15, it is morning! You can go to sleep, I don’t need you to translate since Meatball has buttons.

Ominis: Like I’ll be able to sleep.

-10 minutes later-

MC: Marinara?

Meatball: -robotic voice- yes

MC: WE GOT ONE! Ominis, did you hear that?

Ominis: -startles awake- wonderful, can you go back to your own common room and your own bed now?

MC: Did Sebastian not tell you? I’m here for the night.

Ominis: WHAT?

MC: They know I sneak out and they’ve assigned extra prefects outside the Hufflepuff dorms so I’m sleeping here with Sebastian.

Ominis: You are NOT sleeping with Sebastian!

MC: Would you calm down? We’re just sleeping.

Sebastian: -enters and yawns- What’s he in a tizzy for?

MC: You forgot to tell him I was staying here.

Sebastian: Oh, right. Sorry about that. MC, do you want the front or back?

MC: Front is fine.

Ominis: You’re NOT sleeping with Sebastian!

MC: I had no idea you were this uptight about sleeping.

Sebastian: He’s probably crabby because you’re keeping him up. He needs his beauty sleep.

Ominis: I’ll sleep on the floor, you can sleep in my bed.

MC: Don’t be ridiculous!

Sebastian: Mate, it’s FINE. Anne used to stay over.

Ominis: Yes, but Anne is your sister!

MC: If he’s just going to freak out, I’ll risk going back to my room.

Ominis: -sighs- no, it’s fine. I’m overreacting.

MC: Anyway, Meatball is now Meatball Marinara. Are we giving him your last name?

Ominis: You know what? Sure. Meatball Marinara Gaunt. Though perhaps he should have your last name, it’s better than being a Gaunt.

Meatball: She’ll have your last name one day anyway, isn’t that what humans do?

Ominis: MEATBALL

Meatball: I want to sleep with MC, but not the asshole.

Ominis: Seriously? Just sleep in your terrarium!

Meatball: You’re having a slumber party, I feel left out.

Ominis: -exasperated- Meatball wants to sleep with MC but not Sebastian because, and I quote, “we’re having a slumber party and he feels left out.”

MC: Aw! I don’t want my little boy to feel left out!

Sebastian: He doesn’t like me.

Meatball: -hits button- Mad!

Sebastian: Knock it off! Melody, get in Ominis’ bed with the snake. Ominis, if you’re going to freak out, sleep with me in mine. Now can we all go to bed?

Ominis: -sighs- alright. MC, are you comfortable sharing a bed with me? I don’t mind moving.

MC: I’m fine! It’s cold anyway, I’ll share your body heat.

-Everyone gets into bed-

MC: Sorry Ominis, I’ll have to be pressed up against you a bit so there’s room for Meatball.

Ominis: -quietly- oh my god

Meatball: You’re welcome.

[cat3ch1sm]

i am single-handedly running the L agenda (jkjk)

with that being said lemme scoot in here and request something that actually came to me in a dream (giving prophecy). this is literally the second time it has happened to me

i just love the idea of the task force continuously embarrassing themselves in front of snarky girlfriend. like these are grown men with many years of investigation under their belt and they get destroyed by someone in their young 20s lyke

that’s how specific the dream was for me. literally no more details 😔

but i trust you bestie.

also so i don’t spam your inbox i am also requesting on the side a lil f*ngering moment if you will. L’s fingers in the manga really speak to me on a personal level 😏

hello, my favorite follower<33 missed u in my inbox. reporting for duty to carry out the L agenda 🫡

for this writing, i pulled that one l, light, and misa date from the anime and put my own spin on it- featuring Y/N as well. i tried my best to directly quote the anime, idk how well i did tho😭 but it’s the same idea, basically. hope you enjoy💚

ೄྀ࿐ fem!reader, nsfw ahead, f!ngering, light and l fight😭ˊˎ-

It was clear that the day was going to be weird when Aizawa, a respectable and work-oriented member of the task force, came into the headquarters with no pants on. Just white boxers decorated with red polka-dots.

Soichiro glanced absently in Aizawa’s direction upon hearing him come in, then did a double take, expression questioning. “Uh… Aizawa… did something happen?”

Matsuda had the same reaction as Soichiro. “Uh- where’d your pants go?”

Pants and belt slung around his arm, Aizawa trudged towards the other two men, looking exasperated. “Stupid security system wouldn’t let me in. In my opinion, Ryuzaki’s gone a little overboard with the security measures.”

“I’m fairly certain we’re past the point of overboard- this is the Kira investigation, after all,” Soichiro pointed out:

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Aizawa admitted, stopping in his tracks to hurriedly put his pants and belt back on before sitting in a chair between the two men. He searched around the room curiously, noticing an absent presence. “Hey- where’d Ryuzaki and everyone else go?”

Matsuda gestured to the screen displayed in front of them. “Oh- Ryuzaki, Misa-Misa, Light, and Y/N are on a date upstairs.”

Aizawa let out a groan. “For God’s sake, Matsuda, will you stop it with this Misa-Misa crap?”

Matsuda offered a sheepish grin. “Ah- yeah, sure.”

“Man… this has got to be the lamest date I’ve ever been on,” Misa groaned beside you, arm propped up on the back of the sofa and her head resting in the palm of her hand.

“Oh, don’t mind us,” L offered, twirling a fork around in his mouth. “Just act like we’re not even here.”

Misa frowned, crossing her arms. “This could have been a cute double date- with me and Light and you and Y/N- even if you guys are super stalker-y. But Light’s sitting over there with L handcuffed to him while I’m stuck over here with Y/N. It’s like this totally fucked-up double date where L is dating Light and I’m with Y/N.” Misa glared at you, and it took everything in you to keep your expression stoic in return. “By the way, I don’t swing that way, so, like, if that’s what you were thinking-“

“Misa, shut up,” you cut her off harshly, gaze as stony as ever. Then you addressed both Misa and Light. “Listen, we get you’re uncomfortable, but you both understand the circumstances we’re in right now,” you told Misa sternly, also sending a look in Light’s direction. “This is only necessary.”

“Yeah, Misa, it’s probably best we not protest it,” Light agreed, gesturing towards you. “Obviously, we both know we aren’t Kira, but given the evidence, it’ll be difficult to change L’s mind about that fact.”

“Ugh, do we have to talk about that boring crap? Light, all we ever do is talk about Kira, Kira, Kira. Why can’t we talk about normal boyfriend and girlfriend stuff?” Misa whined petulantly, and despite the fact that this “date” had just started, you already found yourself wanting to absolutely deck Amane.

“Well, if you haven’t noticed, that’s all there is to talk about,” Light countered, sounding a little agitated. “Neither of us go to school anymore, and I’m very literally handcuffed to L.” He lifted his hand to indicate the chains around his wrist, raising an absent L’s hand in the air as well.

L was obviously thinking about other things, his dark eyes fixated on the slice of cake, adorned with a small red strawberry, sitting on the coffee table. “Are you going to eat that cake, Amane?” L inquired, pointing at the slice with his fork.

Misa glanced at the pastry disdainfully before rolling her eyes to the ceiling again. “No. Cake makes you fat. I’m not gonna eat it.”

“Well, I find that you don’t gain any weight as long as you burn it off with brainpower.”

Misa bristled. “Huh? So now you call me stupid?”

L shrugged and started to reach for the plate, but then a light appeared in Misa’s eyes and she leaned over and snatched the plate last minute. “Hold on. You can have the cake if you-“ Misa glared at you from the corner of her eye- “and Y/N promise to leave me and Light alone.”

“Yeah, right,” you scoffed, folding your arms across your chest. “Even if we did do that, we’d still be watching on surveillance cameras.”

Misa whirled around to face you, cheeks red with fury and pink lips in a pout. “Well- then we’ll turn all the lights off and get under the bed covers! Right, Light?”

Light made a face. “Misa…”

“Infrared cameras exist, you know,” L replied vacantly, still focused on the cake.

Misa recoiled, sticking her tongue out as if she was a toddler. “Ewwww! You pervert! Will you just stop it with your creepy hobby?”

“You can call me whatever you like. Last chance for cake,” L announced, standing up and scooping the plate off of the table. Misa hmphed and turned her nose up.

There was silence for a little while- Misa fuming while L started on his cake, you and Light simply silent. But then Light spoke up, turning to look at L with a confused expression on his face.

“What’s wrong with you?” Light queried, tone a little bit accusing and making your focus shift to him instantly. “I thought moving here was supposed to help us to catch Kira. But since we’ve been here, you don’t seem all that motivated to me.”

L paused for a moment, swallowing a bite of cake and setting his fork down. “Hm. Not motivated…” He trailed off, in thought, before facing Light and replying, “You’re right- actually, I’m depressed.”

You almost flinched. With your status as L’s partner, you’d obviously noticed the shift in L’s overall mood, and you two had already had a very similar conversation to the one you believed L and Light were about to have. However- you knew for a fact that Light was bound to react a lot worse than you did.

Light, meanwhile, pressed on. “Depressed? What for?”

L dragged the fork along his teeth before glancing up at the ceiling and answering. “Well, he began dubiously, “briefly all this time I thought you were Kira, and my entire case hinged on that fact.” He sighed. “I guess I just can’t get pass the fact that my deduction was wrong. Although having said that, I’m still suspicious of you. That’s why we’re wearing these.” L lifted his arm that was attached to Light’s, making the handcuffs jingle. “And we also know that Kira can control people’s actions. Which means… it’s highly likely that Kira was controlling your actions so that I would suspect you. If I assume both you and Misa were being controlled by him, then everything we’ve observed so far makes a lot more sense to me.”

“So… if what you’re thinking is correct, that means Misa and I were Kira at one point, right?”

L glanced at Light sideways. “Yes. I don’t think we could have been wrong about that. The two of you are Kira.”

Both Light and Misa frowned, Misa pouting in a stubborn expression, but much to your relief, remaining silent.

L continued his monologue, although you could tell he was talking more to himself than to Light at this point. “If what I was thinking was correct, when your confinement began you were Kira. I don’t believe it’s coincidence that as soon as you were imprisoned, all the killings stopped. Until then, everything pointed to you being Kira. But after two weeks… criminals actually began dying again. Based on that evidence, I can only conclude that Kira’s power passes between people.”

Light’s expression softened, and he nodded thoughtfully. “That’s an interesting idea. But if it’s true,” he noted with a frown, “it’ll be nearly impossible for us to catch Kira.”

L nodded as well, staring straight ahead. “Yes. That’s why I’m overwhelmed. Even if we catch someone under his control, they are likely to lose their powers and any memory of their crimes. So in the end, pursuing them becomes futile.”

Light was quiet for a little bit. “But… at this point we have no way of knowing if that’s the case,” he offered halfheartedly. “So cheer up, would you?”

L? Cheer up? You almost couldn’t stifle your laugh.

L seemed surprised by this for a second, but shook his head slowly. “Cheer up? No. I’m sorry, I can’t. It’s probably better if I just stop trying so hard. By chasing Kira so desperately, we’re just putting our lives at risk for nothing.” Again, he twirled the fork around in his mouth, gaze directed at his feet. “Yes…it’s just a waste of time.”

There was more silence- but this time, you felt how tense it was rather than thoughtful, and you suddenly felt a little uneasy.

Then, Light: “Ryuzaki…”

“Hm?”

Your head snapped towards Light a split second too late. The next thing you heard was the sound of Light’s fist meeting L’s face- hard, and suddenly the two of them were flying- L backward and Light forward, unwillingly pulled along by the handcuffs that joined the two. Ryuzaki knocked into the table just before hitting the ground, and it flipped over, sending L’s unfinished slice of cake to the floor.

You and Misa both got to your feet abruptly, and you could hear Misa’s whimpers of disgust as she accidentally stepped in the smushed cake. Misa, however, was far from your concerns. “What the hell?” you demanded, eyes furiously darting from L on the ground to Light, bent over and breathing hard. “Light, what do you think you’re doing?!”

Light whirled around to face you. “What? You can’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same thing!” Then he turned back to glare daggers at L, whose eyes were wide with surprise and his hand cradling his cheek where Light had punched him. “That’s enough! You don’t feel like doing anything just because your genius deduction was wrong and I’m not Kira?!”

L stared up at Light, the look in his eyes unreadable. “Hm… perhaps I phrased that the wrong way. I meant that it would be pointless for us to make a move, so why even bother…”

Your face twisted with annoyance. Good grief. Couldn’t L see he was just adding fuel to the fire? Half the time you didn’t know if he was genuinely unaware of his actions or just doing it on purpose.

“Man, I didn’t think this date could possibly get any worse…” Misa whined from behind you, now wearing one sock because of the cakey mess on the other one.

“Misa, be quiet, for Christ’s sake,” you snapped, and Misa recoiled before eventually shutting up, plopping herself down on the couch and putting on a petulant pout. “You two- stop being ridiculous and get off the floor. Can’t you see this isn’t helping anything?”

L peered at you from behind Light’s angry form. “You know, Y/N is really right…”

“Don’t change the subject,” Light snapped. “If we don’t chase Kira, he’ll never be caught. Is that what you want? If you’re just gonna give up, then why did you involve all those innocent people? More importantly, what was the point of putting Misa and me behind bars?”

L mulled over this for a moment. “I understand. But still, whatever the reason…”

You knew exactly what was coming next when L slowly climbed off the ground, a dark twinkle in his eye. And he struck Light back, fist buried in his eye and eliciting a pained grunt from the student.

“An eye for an eye, my friend.”

Again, the two men flew- but now it was Light’s turn to fly backward and L forward, the handcuffs holding fast. They both hit the floor with a massive thud, and you knew without a doubt that the task force downstairs could hear you all now.

Why aren’t those idiots doing anything?

Misa let out another dismayed cry, and you finally decided you had to intervene. Before either one of them could land another blow, you got in between the two, preventing them from reaching each other.

“Are you both insane?” you snarled, giving both of them equally vaporizing glares. “What the hell are you fighting like some schoolyard children for? Can’t you see how idiotic the both of you look? Blindly swinging instead of effectively talking about this?”

The pair paused, seemingly taking your words into account, but stares still fixed intently on each other, and you knew they both were aching to swing again.

Finally, L spoke up, but it was directed at Light. “It’s not my deduction that was wrong,” he panted, eyes burning into Light’s. “The fact is, I can say that Light Yagami is Kira and Misa Amane is the second Kira. But it won’t be enough to solve the case. And that’s why I’m a little depressed. Is that so unreasonable?”

Light wasted no time retorting, “Yes. Yes, it is. Besides, you said it yourself. It is as if you won’t be satisfied unless I am Kira.”

L considered this, briefly averting his gaze from him. “Hmm…I won’t be satisfied unless you’re Kira.” Another lapse into silence. “Well… there may be some truth to that. In fact, now that you mention it… you’re right.” Now L’s stare were more piercing than ever. “I think I wanted you to be Kira.”

Before you could even blink, Light’s fist had slammed into L’s eye, but the detective seemed unfazed this time.

“As I said before, an eye for an eye,” he rasped. “I’m a lot stronger than I look, you know.” And he raised his fist to return the blow.

But now you’d had enough of watching these two grown men brawling like middle school kids. They’d ignored your previous words and warnings, but they would soon learn that that was a mistake.

So, as the two went flying into the wall yet again, you darted in between them at a speed you didn’t realize you were capable of, took hold of the handcuff chain, and just when Light moved to hit L again, you yanked as hard as you could on the cold metal chain. The combined force of your hand and the growing strain on the chain from Light and L jerking it around made it snap right in two, sending the detective and scholar positively soaring in opposite directions. Misa let out a shriek and rushed to Light’s side as he slammed into the floor with a very painful-sounding thump, but you didn’t move to help L when he barreled into the wall for what had to be the fifth time in the past ten minutes.

When the chaos finally settled, both men were still on the ground, wincing from their collective injuries and struggling to get up. One of the legs on the table that Light had rammed into was actually beginning to splinter, and the cake L had dropped earlier had made a big mess on the carpet what with Misa stepping on it and trailing it across the carpet. The wall L was flopped over against had a gaping hole where L’s head had hit, the cracks spreading from behind L’s hair like some twisted spider. And finally, there was you, standing exactly where you’d been standing with the severed chain dangling from your closed hand, staring at the metal like you yourself couldn’t believe what had just happened.

It was totally silent for at least five minutes straight. Nobody moved, taking in all that had just occurred and the damage in the room. But the awestruck silence was disrupted when the phone, which had slid off of the table near the spot where L was sprawled out now, rang.

At first, nobody moved to answer it. But when it kept ringing, L at last picked it up, holding it between his index finger and thumb like always.

“Hello?”

The voice from the phone was unclear from where you were, but you could tell it was Matsuda.

“Ryuzaki, I’ve got great news!” he chirped, his overly enthusiastic voice making you cringe slightly. “Misa-misa’s number one in “Eighteen" magazine’s reader popularity poll!”

Matsuda was usually too invested in totally useless things at totally inappropriate times, but this time you could see right through him. He’d heard the chaos going on upstairs and had wanted to try and de-escalate the situation, so here he was with this stupid stuff.

To yourself, you muttered, “Jesus Christ.”

L blinked at you and then blinked at the phone. “Ah. I see.”

“And get this- she’s gonna get a lead role in Nishinaka’s next movie!”

Light’s head popped over the toppled table, face bruised. “What was that?”

L promptly dropped the phone to the ground . “Matsuda’s acting stupid again.”

Light chuckled dryly. “Well… that is his specialty.”

Yet another moment of silence. Then, a tiny voice from the phone L hadn’t hung up properly: “I can hear you, you know.”

It had been several hours since the earlier incident, everyone from the task force having gone home and Misa sleeping in her hotel room. You and L were the only ones still awake, perched beside each other on the desk in front of the monitors; the normally bustling center of operations was now quiet and dark. Since you’d broken the handcuffs earlier and L had yet to replace them, you got to be alone with him for the first time in a while.

“You know,” L spoke up, breaking the calm silence, “I wasn’t expecting you to jump into me and Light’s brawl like that earlier.”

You gave L a look. “How could I not? You were both embarrassing yourselves. That was completely senseless behavior. I wasn’t expecting you to indulge Light’s impulsivity.”

L cocked his head at you a little questioningly. “You sound pretty ticked off.”

You blinked, realizing that he was right, and let out a long exhale. When you spoke again, your tone was softer, but your words were still harsh. “Being around Misa all day irritates me, anyway. You both acting like idiots didn’t really help my mood. And now we’ve got a busted-up hotel room with a hole in the wall and the broken table.”

L considered this, then nodded slowly. “Yes. That hurt, by the way.”

You let out a wry chuckle. “I bet.”

Neither of you spoke again for a little while- but you still felt L place his hand on your thigh.

“What are you doing?”

L’s eyes lifted to meet yours. “I figured you’d want to unwind a little. Is that alright?”

You paused for a moment. “Yes,” you replied airily, squirming just a little bit with your legs swinging from the table.

Nodding to himself, L moved his hand up your thigh, opting not to indulge in foreplay and teasing. Brazenly, he flipped up the lacy hem of the slip you’d put on to go to bed, and you felt a shiver go down your spine when his hand made direct contact with your skin. Carefully, he reached for your panties and tugged them out of his way before dipping two slender fingers in your rapidly dampening entrance, making your back arch slightly.

You bit your lower lip to stifle any sounds lest you two alert Watari, making the only audible noise in the room the wet sounds of L gently moving his fingers back and forth, slightly curled and brushing against your sweet spot. Despite your efforts to silence yourself, as he slowly picked up the pace and you neared your climax, a few breathy moans escaped your lips anyway, and you could feel the familiar heat building in your lower body and spreading across your face.

You allowed yourself a broken gasp when you came, a small amount of thin, sticky liquid flooding from your dripping hole and coating L’s fingers. His fingers slowed inside you, helping you make the most of your orgasm, and when you’d finally come down from your high he gingerly withdrew his fingers and watched the wetness pool beneath your slip and dampen your underwear. Then he promptly popped his index and middle fingers into his mouth, his tongue swirling around them and licking your taste from his skin.

After a minute or two L turned to look at you again. “Well, you look like you feel better.”

You instinctively dropped your eyes, uselessly fighting the color spreading across your cheeks. “I guess I do…”

L’s eyes were wide as he stared at you, his expression betraying nothing. “No matter how many times we do this, you’re always so flustered after you finish…”

You groaned and dropped your face into your hands, and L laughed.

[poemnic-tarot]

Channeled Message from Your Soulmate’s Higher Self

(Disclaimer : This is a general reading please only take what resonate. For entertainment purposes only)

🧚🏻‍♀️ 💕 🍀 🌷 🌸 You are Loved 🌸 🌷 🍀 💕 🧚🏻‍♀️

Pile 1🌠 “Twin flames”

“I want to acknowledge your mastery of your own emotions. I love that you’ve learned not to control or shame your emotion but accept them for what they are. Your inner strength really shine through and it wasn’t easy so I want to congratulate you on that hard earned achievement, my love. Now your emotion can’t hold you back anymore from taking action. They do not dictate what you can or cannot do because frankly, there is nothing you can’t achieve in this world. You can basically manifest anything.

You are very intuitive and even psychic when we first met and I noticed that about you. I was surprised by how much you were able to pick up on. My feeling particularly because I was not that expressive. You’ve showed me how to balance between true inspired action and just doing things for the sake of doing it. It was hard for me to give something up or abandoned things I’ve started, even when I know it was passed due to do so. Leaving things,letting go of attachment is hard for me. I am the type to keep on reading a book or watching a movie till the end even when I am dead bored of them. There’s no reason for me to continue but there wasn’t a reason for me to leave either. So I’m stuck I guess, I’m very good at getting myself stuck, in the middle, hanging in- between staying or going. But you told me you found that endearing for some reason and gently took my hand and guide me out of my self- imposed prison. You have helped me heal my wound of abandonment, maybe that’s why it was hard to say goodbye to things and leave them, even though they do not serve me anymore.

I admire your sense of adventure, you are the most expressive person I’ve ever met. Even if you don’t know that about yourself. I feel quite a strong kinship with you, like this is not our first rodeo on this earth. Perhaps, we often have more adventures in our dreams, I know I do dreamt of you quite often. I just want to let you know that I love you, I love who are and who you were and who you are trying to become. Every versions of you amazed me cause your true strength alway shines through every time and I will alway recognised your bright essence anywhere.”

Love,

Your Soul Family

Signs: Rose, Lion/big cats, 111, Infinity, Pine trees,Crescent Moon

Love Quotes: "In the end, we all just want someone that chooses us over everyone else under any circumstances."

Song: I See the Light from Tangle

“….And at last I see the light

And it’s like the fog has lifted

And at last I see the light

And it’s like the sky is new

And it’s warm and real and bright

And the world has somehow shifted

All at once everything looks different

Now that I see you

Love Poem verse : Twin flames by @cant-find-my-name

…I recognised negative traits needed

To be discard,

When we met, I think I’ve found myself

The missing piece, part of my soul

Ah, you’re my Twin flames

When I met you I know

We’re one and the same

🧚🏻‍♀️ 💕 🍀 🌷 🌸 You are Loved 🌸 🌷 🍀 💕 🧚🏻‍♀️

Pile 2🍄 If Magic Was Real

"I hope you are taking time to fully sit in your emotions and grieve. It is okay to express your emotion, in fact, it is crucial if you need to cry or break down or just lose it emotionally. Give yourself that permission to do so. You might think that it's strong of you to keep it together for the sake of others or yourself. That it is so mature of you to do so but darling, there need to be a balance. You need to heal but you won't be able to heal if you won't let yourself feel all of your sadness. If you need to cry, cry it out I will be here with you. You are not alone in your sorrows. I would like to give this song to you, maybe it would help "Chiquitita by Cher". It seem you have broken a feather but don't worry, we will try to patch it up together.

I want to tell you that a renewal is coming to you. It was a hard chapter that you just experienced and I hate seeing you pretending to be fine. But your sad eyes is not fooling anyone. It is okay to be sad,to be angry, to let it all out ( in a healthy way not in a self destructive way please). I admired you for holding it together for this long, but more than anything, I want you to let go. Be vulnerable with yourself, I think that is the most beautiful thing. Witness the spectrum of human emotions, it is beautiful. It is time to rest in your nest for awhile until you’re able to fly again. Take all the time that you need, grieve all that there is, broken relationships, friendships, nostalgia. Whatever it is, I am alway there. Listen to music because I love sending you messages through these songs, it has really helped me through my hard time. So I’m hoping music could be a little comfort to you at this time. Take some time for yourself love, cause you definitely need it. Trust me that the sun will rise once more, and all that happened will just been a hard learned lesson and you’ve definitely learn a lot from it.

I know that the real you is not a sad person. You are the most vibrant, radiant, happiest soul I know. And sadness doesn’t suit you one bit, as well as pretending to be happy. You shine best when you are true to your feeling. Winter is over and I cannot wait to welcome you back into the season of spring.”

Love,

Your Soulmate

Signs: Black feathers, birds, 55, Tears drop

Love Quote : “He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”

Song : Chiquitita by Cher

Chiquitita, tell me the truth

I’m a shoulder you can cry on

Your best friend, I’m the one you must rely on

You were alway sure of yourself

Now, I see you’ve broken a feather

I hope we can patch it up together

Love Poem verse: If Magic Was Real by @cant-find-my-name

.. The world seem kind

When you’re around

To believe again

Is easy

When you’re with me

If Magic is real

It is where you’ll be

🧚🏻‍♀️ 💕 🍀 🌷 🌸 You are Loved 🌸 🌷 🍀 💕 🧚🏻‍♀️

Pile 3🫧 I’ll Never Forget

“You’re working so hard and so am I. We’re trying to do our own work, slowly building strong foundation for the future. Maybe out of fears than anything. This anxiety to keep on going, to do better and better, to improve, constantly striving for a better future. I get it, I feel it too, however, if we keep on going like this eventually our life forces will run out. And physically we can become ill and I really don’t want that for you. So I’m here to let you know that you can slow down, what you feared will not come true. Your deep, dark fears will not come alive. If you think you can’t stop because you think that the fears you feel will transpire. No, it will not, you’ve work hard enough. Outwardly and internally, I’ve watched you tried and tried and alway striving to do better. To be better, but honey, you are already enough for me. You alway will be, regardless of what you did or what you didn’t do or what you will do. I will alway believe that your existence alone is enough for me. To sooth my soul, to lift my spirit up. You don’t have to do anything for me, I am happy just to be with you, to exist with you, to be by your side and bath in your lovely presence

I know you have struggled from a lack mentality, I don’t know if you notice that about yourself. And that is nothing to be ashamed of , I‘m struggling with it too. I understand how you feel, no matter how much you have or how much you do, you just feel it’s never enough. True abundance come from the inside. And you are already enough with the proof that your heart beats for you, the blood flowing in your vein is proof that we meant to exist here as we are. No more, no less.

Please rest assured love, and take a break once in a while. Do something that’s not related to work. I want you to practice winding down, practice letting go and relaxing. No one ever teach us how to truly relax and it is a skill, it doesn’t come naturally to us and we can help each other relax. We can practice together, practice just existing without shame or guilt, or a pit in our stomach that things will go wrong if you don’t do anything. I want you to learned to have fun because when we’re together, it’ll become a skill that will help our relationship a lot. I want to have fun together with you and for you to tell me all about your adventures, your travels and your crazy journey. I can’t wait to just sit down and be with you. Take a vacation with you and have the time of our lives. You are my vacation home.”

Love from,

Your Honey bear

Signs : 88, Roses, Games, Festival, Spider, Designer brand

Love Quote : “I know from that first moment we met. It was not love at first sight exactly but familiarity. Like ‘oh hello’, it’s you. It’s going to be you.”

Song : Voyage by Kep1er

“The sound of waves surging in

Far beyond the horizon

Between the clouds, we going high

Follow me in my way

When the gentle breeze blows

Close your eyes and feel it

We arrived to an unfamiliar island

slowly open your eyes

Love Poem verse: I’ll Never Forget by @cant-find-my-name

Loneliness is a disease

But I think you’ve just cure me,

You make me so happy

I don’t recognise myself,

You warmed my hand

Around your coffee mug

And asked if I’m alright

Your voice sounded worried

And there’s concern sincerity’s in

Your eyes.

🧚🏻‍♀️ 💕 🍀 🌷 🌸 You are Loved 🌸 🌷 🍀 💕 🧚🏻‍♀️

Pile 4🌙Each Night

“Good evening, I hope to meet you again in our dream. I know you dreamed of me and questioned it. Believe in yourself my little star. Your dream is not lying to you. It is alright to hope, to wish, to believe in the impossible. Please don’t think that it’s ridiculous or childish to believe in true love, in soulmate and fairy tales. Because you’re not wrong to hope. Your soulmate exist and you know that but your fears trying to convince you otherwise. I am your soulmate and my message to you is to believe in me. I want to validate your feeling, your extraordinary senses. Your wish in that little star?, I heard it, the universe heard it too and we listen. To all of your wishes and it was not ridiculous of you to wish for love, true love. It is not unrealistic, or rose colour glasses. It is just something that you know you deserve and want to feel. We do not shame or guilt ourself for asking for more love.

I am alway with you, in your dream, in your waking life, in our past lives. That is why you can feel my presence so strongly. It is not just from your imagination. I want to assured you that, it is real. I am as real as the bark of a tree. I can feel you too but truthfully, my 3D self is not as intuitive as you. I tend to brush things off when they don’t make sense, so please don’t be like me.Things doesn’t need to make sense now,it will eventually come together. Unfolding naturally, beautifully. I know you see my signs everywhere and is questioning reality. You are not going mad, just a head up from me. We will meet soon, in a way that you won’t believe. I won’t either but we both know that we wish for this desperately. Earth has been achingly lonely for me. And knowing you exist have helped alleviate the ache a bit. I want you to take your time with life, don’t rush cause when we come together, we can continue this journey together in an even pace,step by step.

Love,

Yours

Signs : North Star, Dove, Diamond shape, Cocoon of a butterfly, 8910, 2020

Love Quotes: “He loves you very much” she said, but more than that, he cares for you. Sometimes love is not as important as truly caring for the other person.

Song : Surefire by John Legend

“Let me breath you in ‘till gravity bends

And we fall through the hole in the light

Make this our kingdom

Somewhere where good love conquers and not

Divides”

Love Poem verse : Each Night by @cant-find-my-name

Oh distance shore

I beg of you

Please no more,

Please don’t keep us apart

I can’t take it

This is destroying my heart,

We are one and it’s time to be

Together again

Next to each other

Hand in Hand

Feel you touch my skin

Smell your scent

I breathe you in………

🧚🏻‍♀️ 💕 🍀 🌷 🌸 You are Loved 🌸 🌷 🍀 💕 🧚🏻‍♀️

Thank you so much for reading!. If this resonate please leave a tip if you like. See you soon!

Check out more of my original poems at @cant-find-my-name .

[sprixxistix]

Don’t know what possessed me to make this but I really like how this page turned out

It’s based on an idea that I’ll ramble about, if you don’t wanna read it and you’re just here for the art, that’s cool! Just stop reading the post here bc I’m letting you know now the rest is just going to be me rambling for a while. Mild spoiler warning maybe? Not for any major game event, mostly lore stuff.

So, my idea doesn’t really work since I found out through the wiki that apparently the reason why the player character keeps reviving is because Mr. Lopee revives them for some reason? And is also the one forcing Sebastian to help the player further by running the Dead-Drop Shop and showing them documents. I haven’t seen the end of the game and I won’t until I beat it so I’m just working off my preexisting knowledge and what I read on the wiki (that I felt wasn’t a spoiler) But I’ll think of it like an au. The basics of it is some Resident Evil type shit with the black and green glowing substance that you can occasionally find infesting the Blacksite (I’m assuming it’s rotten coral and will just call it that for convenience sake) being collected, mixed with some other substances or whatever, and injected into selected expendables as a very experimental and last ditch effort because we’re 3000-5000 prisoners in before the player gets there and every single one of them is dead. And realistically how many can you take before people start getting suspicious or you run out and need to start sending actual Urbanshade workers? Plus, if it goes smoothly, maybe it can be used for personnel who are particularly at risk, like guards. Or even Mr. Shade himself to keep him alive and running the company. (because he should be like 118-119 years old. He was born in 1906 and somehow is still alive when the lockdown happened? Which is sometime in 2025 I think.) But this could explain why you revive, why sometimes HQ will tell you “don’t fear death. Fear failure” before a run, and why sometimes the text at the bottom of the screen speaks to you. (I’ve gotten things like “the Blacksite breathes, the Blacksite hungers” which ofc I included in the drawing bc that quote goes hard, or “(don’t) fear the reaper” and the most fascinating one to me of it saying something like “TAKE US BACK TO THE LIGHT” when I swam away to try and get the document for getting your pdg exploded) And you can tell I’m very inspired by Resident Evil because in my mind it’s like, if you die, you can be revived through either your heart being salvaged and brought back then you regenerate your body from there, or you just eventually crawl out of some rotten coral “hub” if there’s nothing left of you and go back down to do it all over again. And to me, the voices are either the thoughts of other people connected to the rotten coral, past lives of yourself warning you (which my friend suggested and I love that idea), or people who died near the rotten coral and had their last thoughts “recorded” by it, or a mix of all three. Sort of like the megamycete hivemind.

Anyway, I’ve rambled for way way way too long, thank you if you read it. I’m a simple creature whose mind is fully consumed by Pressure and I’m hyperfixated on it so much rn. Thank you again, have a nice day ^^

[twisted-dork]

Buddie incorrect quotes #1 Ring Ring

This idea came from @Caitpatmosh from TikTok

*At the grant/nash house athena took the kids out*

Chimney: Hey Buck do you still have that movie I lent to you

Buck: I think so. Where did I put it

*Buck unknowingly showed the ring he was wearing on his hand*

*Chimney Gasp*

Buck: What?

*Chimney excited mode*: Oh my god Oh my god it finally happened . DID IT FINALLY HAPPEN

Buck: Did what happen?

Chi: Yes Maddie and Hen owes me 50 bucks. GUYS GET IN HERE

Bobby : What’s wrong?

Maddie: What happened Chim?

Hen: What is going on over here?

*Chimney points to Buck’s hand*: Look. At. His. Hand.

*Everone sees the ring and gasp*

Maddie: Shut. Up

Bobby: Oh Buck

Hen *Frustrated that she lost the bet*: Oh for Goodness sakes

Maddie: Damn it Ev. You couldn’t have waited another year.

Maddie: I mean I’m happy for you but now I owe Chim 50 bucks

Buck *realizes what they think happened*: Oh this. This is not—

Chimney: Okay so obviously I’m the wedding planner

Hen: God help us all

Chimney: Hey keep sassing and you’re going to be flower girl

Bobby: Buck you have always been like another son to me

Buck: Guys this is sweet but there’s a misunderstanding

*Eddie comes over*

Eddie: What is all the commotion over here

Hen: Dude run

Eddie: What?

Bobby: EDDIE

Chimney: There’s the lucky dog *punches Eddie shoulder*

Eddie: Ow. What the hell

Buck: Sorry Ed’s I’m trying to explain

Chimney: Okay okay. Let me get out my emergency party planner

Hen: You carry an emergency party planner

Chimney: KAREN

Karen: How can I be of service

Chimney: Hey you’re still ordained right

Eddie: Ordained

Karen: Are you and Maddie finally getting married

Chimney: Ha ha I wish. No this is for Buck and Eddie

Eddie: Wait WHAT

Chimney: Are you in or out

Karen: Yes I look forward to it

Maddie: So how did you do it? Where did you do it? Did he cry? Did you cry

Bobby: I’m crying right now

Hen: I think we could tell

Eddie: Uh hello. What the hell is going on

Maddie: Wait who’s going to walk Ev down the aisle

Bobby: I will do it

Buck: Really

Bobby: It would be the single greatest honor of my life

Buck: Oh my god I’m going to cry

Eddie: I think we’re getting carried away here

Chimney: Next Eddie you gotta pick your best man

Hen: This is ridiculous

Eddie: Yeah none of you are gonna be my best man

Hen: You wouldn’t pick me as your best (wo)man

Eddie: Ay Dios Mío

Taylor: Hey guys can I help with the wedding too

Eddie: Noo!

Chimney: Sure you can be the ring bearer

Hen: That is way too much responsibility for her

Chimney: Oh yeah your right. You can be the usher

Maddie: That still may be too much

Buck: You guys this is so sweet but there’s not going to be a wedding

Chimney: Evan "Buck" Buckley. I will die from a rod to the head before you get married in a courthouse

Maddie: And I’ll be damned if I’m not the best woman

Bobby: I will walk you down any aisle Buck

Eddie: We are not engaged

*Everyone shocked pikachu face*

Chimney: What?

Buck: Yeah

Karen: I’m confused

Chimney: Where’d you get that huge ass ring

Buck: It’s from one of Jee’s bath bomb that has Jewelry in it.

Buck: *shows the ring* It’s pretty right

*Everyone glares at Eddie*

Bobby: So you didn’t propose

Eddie: Nooo

Chimney: Well when the hell are you proposing man

Eddie: W-Uh I mean uh

Eddie: What’s that Chris you need me I’ll be right there

*Hen who knew all along*: Jesus Christ

[jamiesfootball]

The more I roll it around like a piece of candy, the more I think that the reason for the coaches putting ‘Jamie’ down as ‘Jamie’ was…. as simple as letting Jamie be Jamie.

They’ve had their eyes opened lately about a lot of things lately- one of which was Ted’s belated realization about Zava, and his small acknowledgment that Jamie made the right call about that guy. When he originally brought them his concerns, their dismissal of him was partly rooted in the image they had of Old Jamie.

Which again is one of those things where we, the audience, saw much more of his changing than they did. Not only do we know that he’s not Old Jamie, we also understand that Old Jamie wasn’t really Old Jamie - it’s only ever been Rough Draft Jamie, who has a lot of work left but who’s come so far, and we’re starting to see how fucking bright his future could be.

And now that’s really in front of the coaches’ faces as well. They’re starting to see how much growth there’s been, with the fall out from Zava, and they all know he’s been doing extra training with Roy.

I think they started writing down names, got to Jamie’s, and then just…. Didn’t want him to feel like he was being Zava’d again.

He’s a good kid - for fucks sake even Beard can’t help but be sentimental about him now (talented player; beautiful dumb dumb) - and in their hearts, well? Of course he’s their striker. And no, they’re not worried he’s gonna be a Precious Moments figurine anymore - not in a fragile way at least. Just in a precious and special sort of way.

So what do they do? They give him a signal, this time a note, and tell Jamie to just be Jamie. That’s it’s okay if Jamie is just Jamie. Because this may be a new strategy they’re testing out, but that fact will always be true. They just want Jamie to be Jamie. There’s no problem with that anymore. It’s a perfectly good thing to be. And they’re here to support that now.

“That’s not a mistake. We just figured you’d wanna keep doing what you do best for us. Playing striker and scoring goals, right?”

It’s an olive branch. They thought about what Jamie might want, and they’re willing to offer it to him. No questions asked. Well, one question asked:

“Right?”

Because this is Ted we’re talking about. And just like the quote about leaving room for God, Ted is always going to leave room for people to grow. He is a Coach after all. So he leaves that door cracked open for Jamie. He may not be sure what Jamie’s going to do with it, but he’s gonna leave it open all the same. He believes in Jamie Tartt.

And Jamie takes that in stride, with a sweet befuddled smile at this sudden show of acceptance, and a weird tension in his eyes because he’s beginning to wonder ‘but what if I could be more?’

And by the end, when they’re all crowded around a whiteboard, listening to this kid crack the code on the whole shebang - the strategy, the team dynamics, where every player’s strength is gonna come together and help them win - that’s the real pay off. That’s Beard finally looking at Jamie with the full force of his analytical intellect and having approval in his eyes. That’s Roy, neither surprised nor knowing, giving him the nod like ‘you’re onto something here, keep going’, completely willing to listen.

And Ted. Ted. Ted’s face kills me here. Because he is so quietly, deeply stunned that he looks like he’s wearing his entire soul on his face.

This why you leave the door cracked open. You may not know what’s going to come through if you do - and what shows itself may be beyond your wildest dreams.

You’ve outdone yourself, Coach Lasso.

Jamie Tartt is going to be your trophy one day, mark my words. And he’s already the Son Shaped Trophy of your Coach Shaped Heart.

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Fragile - a Malevlent fic (Intermezzo spoilers)

Arthur got low in Larson’s house. He hit bedrock; he admitted, brokenly, that they won.

John didn’t let him drown. Which is ironic, because John was already drowning.

Spoilers for Intermezzo.

AO3

———-

Humans were fragile.

John knew this. He’d known it since before he was ‘John,’ when wicked memories seeped through the torment of loss and damnation.

Arthur was fragile, too.

John did not know this, and this new and acidic knowledge threatened the unset foundation John had built his everything upon. 

#

Your hands, Arthur. You have broken pieces of his eyes under your thumbnails.

Hardly like John hadn’t done things like that  when King, hadn’t done things like that for Kayne, hadn’t torn people apart until he knew them down to the cellular level. It wasn’t that eyeballs were gross, or the violence was too much; it was that Arthur was the one who did it.

Arthur. Who’d stayed so strong through cult and coma. Who’d kept his head in the prison pits, and forgiven John more than any saint could.

Who’d cut his own damn throat to keep the King from winning.

John knew it had been less than a day for Arthur. (It had been… longer, for him.) Less han a day. How could Arthur change so much in less than a day?

“I…” Arthur sounded fucked.

Instinctively, John tried a lever, tried to use that name to prize Arthur from the mud. Imagine what she would think. Faroe wouldn’t want her father to be this. To lose himself in this way.

The lever did not work, and Arthur slumped down, bleeding, and wept. “I’m lost,” he said, and It was a terrible sound. “I’ve lost. I’ve sunk too far.”

Less than a godsdamned day.

No, said John, scrambling in the wake of shock. I know you, my friend. You are in there. You saved me before. (Arthur had, everything he’d done, everything he’d said, had saved John in the Dark World, had kindled his only lingering light and hope. Arthur could not lose. He could not sink. If Arthur did…)

John vowed: I will not let you drown.

Arthur sobbed.

A good sob? A broken one? Don’t be scared. 

“They’ve won, John,”  Arthur wept in a high, unrecognizable voice. “He won. Faust. I… I wanted to kill him. I wanted to fill his blood within my hands. I wanted to feel the crunch of his bones beneath my palms. They won.”

This couldn’t be happening.

No.

No.

Arthur was his light. Arthur was his hope. The source of a purpose in a life so short, the proof they didn’t have to win!

Kayne’s voice might only be in his head, but it rang cruelly true: If he was this wrong about not letting them win, what does that say about his hope for you?

No!

Humans were fragile. Arthur was less fragile than most, but still human, and John...

John knew what to do. 

He was ashamed of it, this innate, easy understanding of manipulation, of control, of (pleasure it had always brought him pleasure as the King) pretty words to make Arthur do what he wanted, to shift Arthur’s sails and steer him from the rocks.

He felt ill. Sick. He shouldn’t do this. Good people did not think like this.

Would it really be “good” to let Arthur wreck on the rocks of himself?

It would not (and John told himself it was for Arthur’s sake and not to shore up his own cracking foundation), and so John made his choice. Followed his instinct, and manipulated. How could they have won? We’re nowhere near finished.

That was the exact right delivery, and it snagged Arthur’s attention like a lure (fish, Arthur, now caught). 

Next, communication the way Arthur thought in his quietest hours: Whose woods these are, I think I know... Because Arthur thought in music and poems. Because Arthur’s sobs slowed as John quoted, pulling the verses from the shared well of their mind. 

My horse must think it queer, to stop without a farmhouse near... Because Arthur might deny that gloriously artistic part of himself (of which John, as King, was keenly aware), but he could not resist the siren-song of rhythm and introspection and beauty, and he’d listen to this when he’d kick all else in the teeth. 

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep, but I have promises to keep… and miles to go before I sleep. He would not lose this man today (maybe if the King had used poetry instead of compound fractures, he would have gotten somewhere). And miles to go before I sleep.

It worked. (Of course it worked. It had to work. It was back to the Dark World if this didn’t work.) Arthur, as John knew he would, responded. “I’m sorry, John,” he said, and he finally sounded like Arrhur again. “I’m so sorry. For everything.”

(He’d missed him so much, his changeability, his chosen softness.) I’m sorry, too.

“Why? For what? You…”

For what?

For what he’d done to get back here.

For the lies he’d told.

For the wickedness he’d wrought.

For—

For leaving you for so long. But that was too close to the truth of things Arthur must never know. Now. Let’s leave this place.

“No,” said Arthur (because his stubbornness took no time at all to reassert itself). “We need to help those people. Down in the mines.”

And there he was. The Arthur Lester of John’s imagining. The flawed but willingly good human, the anchor to which John clung, the mortal for whom he’d debased himself, for whom he’d died.

He’d done… so many things to stop being dead. Arthur (canonized in memory, precarious on his pedestal) would never understand.

How could he? Arthur was human. Humans were fragile. And even Arthur had people he would not forgive.

He could never know. It’s a new beginning, Arthur. A clean slate. For both of them.

“No, no. Not a clean slate.”

John’s metaphorical heart clenched. No? I thought that’s what you wanted.

“That was easier than to remember what I’ve learned, what I���ve preached, not only to you but myself… that we can’t escape these things we’ve done,” said Arthur, fragile human, with no idea he was telling John that John was beyond hope.

John had to escape the things he’d done. He had to.

This confirmed it all: If Arthur knew what John had done, he’d never forgive him, and that flickering hope-light in would finally go out.

John couldn’t really reply. Okay.

“But it still is another,” said Arthur, sounding like his soul had shed a thousand pounds. “And I’d rather greet a new day like an old friend—with fondness and appreciation.”

Oh, Arthur. How did that fragile hope always survive? (He could never know.) Okay, Arthur.

“My friend. Let’s leave this place.”

And of course, Uncle’s body was still there, still shaking Arthur with reminders of savagery.  “I… I lost…”

Damn it. You’ve beaten yourself up enough over this, Arthur. It’s fine.

It clearly was not fine. “You’re right,” lied Arthur Lester.

Nope. Misdirection time (and John refused to think how easily the manipulation came). Oh! There’s a corpse in the bed.

And just like that, the detective switch was flipped, and finally, Arthur actually was fine.

It would all be fine.

It had to be fine.

The danger was past. John would never, ever need to tell him what he’d done. Arthur would continue to hope in John. It would be fine.

He couldn’t handle all that horror, anyway, John told himself as they dove into mystery and memory. Arthur was fragile, after all.

[tinyozlion]

“True Friends” - Understanding Mr. Treize and the Contradictions of OZ

“Treize himself has a tremendous disdain for any tactic that allows for excess casualties. Ignoble behavior on the battlefield sullies any victory, and civilian death makes a mockery of what a True Soldier fights and dies for. For Treize, there is nothing more hateful than removing the human component from battle, or the cowardly avoidance of responsibility for human death.”

Gosh! What a great quote! I wonder who said that? Oh right, that was me! I did. I wrote that in the entry about “True Soldiers: Aesthetics, Honor, and Chivalry”.   

Let’s examine that a little more, shall we? 

“His Excellency doesn’t want battles that involve civilians.”

Everyone who knows Treize best, his “True Friends”, who grew up with him, who were trained by him, who understand him, all seem to agree: His Excellency wouldn’t stand for needless casualties. OZ may be ruthlessly pragmatic and underhanded, but that couldn’t be Treize’s fault– no, it’s always Lady Une! It’s his fanatically devoted colonel who always chooses the path of greatest violence, heedless of any collateral damage– she’s the one to blame! Treize would never give an order that risked civilian lives.

…Right?

…Right?

Surely he would stop her, admonish her, make her face serious consequences for the atrocities she was willing to commit. He’d leave no room for doubt that she had failed him and disappointed him.

...Right?

Yeah, that’s right, a firm slap on the wrist oughta do it. Tell her to try a little harder next time to understand the value of human life. Just do better! It’s alright to use mobile suits to attack a school, but we’re going to put a stop to it because I’ve changed my mind about killing a teenage girl, as a personal favor to a friend. 

–Friends of His Excellency would certainly like to believe that he would never knowingly sacrifice civilians, but he sure doesn’t seem to mind benefiting from someone else doing it for him.

How well do Treize’s friends really understand him, when they seem unaware of how wide a margin of error he finds acceptable in pursuing his ideals? 

Well, ideals are fine and all, but war is war, and some amount of pragmatism is necessary to stay on top. Treize isn’t the one calling all the shots (yet), and the organization he reports to expects results. You have to break a few eggs to make an omelet, right? That’s why it pays to have a Chief Omelet Maker working for you, so she can break all the eggs, and murder school children, and threaten nuclear assault, and you can come away still smelling like roses. 

…But what sort of effect does that have on her? 

It’s better for a ruler to be feared than loved; being hated is the perfect motivation to stay strong; fighting will never disappear from the world, so the strong should rule it for the sake of damage control; God was too lenient when he gave mankind the free will to rebel; people find comfort in being controlled by the powerful. 

--These are some of Treize’s stated ideals. 

So Lady Une devotes herself to fulfilling those ideals unflinchingly, no matter how much blood ends up on her hands. Better her hands than His. OZ has to be the strongest. OZ has to win. OZ must be victorious at any cost. Damn the Colonies, damn the politician’s daughter who made herself a liability, damn the wounded soldiers left behind at New Edwards Base– she’s going to make OZ so absolutely unfuckwithable that their enemies shit themselves at the mention of its name, and she’ll do it herself if no one else will. Because THAT is what His Excellency wants. She understands him. 

...So why does he keep telling her– ever so gently, ever so gracefully, that she’s wrong? If making sure the strongest rule and the weak obey isn’t what pleases him, then what will? 

Killing is simple– anyone is capable of killing anyone, so you mustn't abuse that capability. The Earth is fragile and infinitely beautiful. Human life is fragile and infinitely beautiful. One must always take responsibility for the fates of those who fight for you, and honor the sacrifice of those who die. Tragedy in war is inevitable. 

--These are some of Treize’s stated ideals. 

So Lady Une devotes herself to fulfilling those ideals with grace and empathy, to bring an end to needless bloodshed. The world needs a strong, compassionate leader, who is capable of loving humanity and guiding them to a peaceful future, where loss and war are tragedies of the past. Order and peace can be maintained without sacrifice, by using technical advancements to replace soldiers on the battlefield and keep them out of harm’s way. That is what His Excellency wants. She understands him.

...So why does he tell her– so sadly, plaintively, that she is wrong? That he is not who she thinks he is, that the future she has so carefully laid out for him is a fantasy of her own making? Why does he plead with her to come back to him, as the person he once knew so fondly?

Civility and honorable conduct on the battlefield is worth more than victory. To fight for something one believes in with perfect clarity is the purest endeavor of mankind. The tragedy of loss is what gives a battle meaning. Honoring the sacrifice of those who have died for your cause means being willing to die for it yourself. To fight, to lose, to die for a noble cause is to move the hearts of all humanity, to touch immortality. 

--These are some of Treize’s stated ideals. 

And so she does– she sacrifices herself to save the Gundam pilots and turn the tides in outer space, rejecting Romefeller, rejecting the Mobile Dolls. At last, she understands him. 

…But didn’t she always?

Except perhaps in the case of using Mobile Dolls to replace soldiers (an idea that was easily manipulated by its inventors to fit into her worldview at the time), her understanding of Treize’s ideals wasn’t ever wrong, just fragmented. She focused on a single facet at a time, each time excluding the contradictions of the other sides– light bouncing off a solid plane without revealing the rest of the prism’s convoluted geometry. 

She isn’t mistakenly interpreting him– HE is a mess, and she is representing him accurately, one dimension at a time. 

What is more significant is that he finally understands this about her.

Treize is mortified to realize what sort of effect he has been having on someone he cares about, during a period where he is questioning the validity of his own beliefs and significance. He may mistakenly believe that he is responsible for having fragmented Lady Une’s personality– which is not how the condition she has operates– but he is not mistaken in taking responsibility for her distress, and the danger he has put her in.

Losing her, or believing that he has lost her, is devastating. Rather than moving him to action, it moves him to inaction; aware that he has come to represent ideals that are too easily manipulated by people who he fundamentally disagrees with, that the idea of him is too powerful to be used responsibly by the current rulers, he withdraws. 

Treize cannot switch off the magnetic field of his charisma or its continuous pull on the soldiers who take inspiration from him, but he refuses to willingly lend himself to a cause that he finds irresponsible. In fact, he refuses to join any cause until one presents itself that he can have complete faith in– and complete control over. 

The people whom Treize considers his True Friends are the ones who “understand” him– this includes his enemies, the ones who oppose him but nevertheless espouse values that he can respect. In fact, ANY strongly held ideal, even ones in opposition to him, and ANY display of courage, is more admirable in Treize’s estimation than lip service to his own ideals or those of his organization. The “fighting spirit” that is of paramount value in his worldview is not limited to combatants– he expresses immense respect for Relena Peacecraft, more so even than his respect for the Gundam pilots, who he comes to idolize. What matters is the strength of conviction. What matters is courage.

He respects and admires Lady Une, even when her errors in judgment have megaton consequences, because she is so singularly and ferociously dedicated to her goals. He tolerates the violence and inhumane actions of the Specials and OZ soldiers because they are fanatically ambitious and ready to die for their ideals. As long as the ultraviolence isn’t cowardly or self-serving, then Treize can and will overlook the body count– noble sacrifices, all. He’ll memorize their names later on today.

Treize’s ideals are flawed and contradictory. There is a tipping point in the series where he gains enough self-awareness to recognize this fact. This does not stop him from believing in his ideals– he can’t simply turn away completely from what he values and loves about humanity and its “fighting spirit”– but it does allow him to appreciate those who see his hypocrisy for what it is, and who despise him for it. 

“You’re only capable of looking down on others; you’re only fighting to satisfy your ego. How many people have died because of you?”

The fact that Treize has memorized the names of all 99 thousand people who have died for him does not do anything to improve Wufei’s opinion. For Treize, that number is a sacred personal burden; to Wufei, it is evidence of offensive, monstrous egotism. 

Wufei, of all the Gundam pilots, is best acquainted with how wide the margin of error is in Treize’s ideal of chivalry. Nataku herself, the namesake for Wufei’s gundam, fell neatly into that margin and died in it. Long before they met and dueled, Wufei knew of Treize as the OZ official jointly responsible for an attack on his Colony. While General Septem of the Alliance (then in control) would have murdered everyone on the Colony indiscriminately with biological weapons, Treize’s solution was more sporting: OZ sent in Mobile Suit troops to directly eliminate the rebel element, who were armed with nothing but a single decrepit prototype Leo and an unfinished Gundam with no ammo-- a much more chivalrous way of sterilizing a Colony, allowing the largely unarmed group of dissidents to die fighting rather than be killed with the push of a button.

Would the deaths of the Long Clan have been meaningful sacrifices in Treize’s eyes? Was exterminating civilians for the sake of convenience a noble cause to fight for?

One could argue that the existence of the then-in-development Gundam was enough of a threat to justify an attack, but at the time the idea of gundanium mobile suits was no more than a rumor. Could Treize, back on Earth, have reasonably predicted its invention? 

Not if we are to believe his own words, which clearly indicate that the Gundam’s existence was unknown to him until reported after the attack.  

For those who fall outside of his cult of personality it is easier to see past the charisma to the reality: no matter what his soldiers think of him, Treize is not a god. He is only a man, and no one person has the right to decree some deaths necessary to the future. 

–And Treize, for his part, would agree. He is a single individual, whose ideals people put too much faith in without fully realizing the essence of what they mean. But the belief people place in him gives Treize a level of power that must be acknowledged and used responsibly, and to the best of his ability, he tries to use it for the good of Earth and humankind. 

As a symbol, he is far more influential than he could ever be as a man, and his awareness of that fact leads him to choose the path of martyrdom, knowing that his very existence is a threat to peace. The only way he can neutralize his own power as a military icon is to join the sacrifices to the cause. And what more iconic way to do that than with a duel?

Treize may have resigned himself to being an anachronism and a dreamer, but if he is going to die for the sake of the future, he will at least go out according to his ideals: gracefully, nobly, at the hands of an enemy he respects. 

For personal and aesthetic reasons, Milliardo is Treize’s hopeful first choice as a dueling partner, but Milliardo had his own role to play in their final performance, which prevented him from participating in a duel for their mutual actualization. So Wufei is the right choice; Wufei both understands him and has a justified reason to want him dead. Besides, it’s an elegant, symmetrical solution– the continuation of a duel that he predicted they would be destined to finish in mobile suits.

--And what effect does that have on Wufei? Perhaps expectedly, a fracturing one. 

It shouldn’t be surprising that Treize’s ideals resonate so powerfully with someone who was raised in a warrior culture, especially someone who only knows how to express his beliefs and sense his self worth through combat.

Wufei, too, lives with contradictions that he cannot fully unify. 

Treize Khushrenada cannot live in the world he wishes to see realized. 

 If he were to win the war against White Fang, the cycle of oppression and resentment would continue. Even if he were to immediately relinquish his power to Relena and demilitarize the Earth Sphere, the end result would lead to more conflict; his refusal to take control of the Colonies would be seen as capitulation, and a betrayal of those who fought for him against the threat of annihilation from space. Even the considerable power of his charisma would evaporate overnight if he were to appear to be turning his back on the soldiers whose fanatic loyalty had allowed the unified mobilization of Earth’s military forces under his banner. But, as a general leading from the front lines in a noble defense of Earth, dying gloriously in battle for the sake of peace lends all that charisma to the future he fought for. 

--The message left to the surviving soldiers is not: “His Excellency led us into battle and then abandoned us when he won”, but instead: “this is the peace His Excellency died protecting.” 

Indeed, after his death, Treize’s name IS used in an attempt to lend legitimacy to the argument that soldiers have been devalued in a time of peace, and that continuous war to determine the strongest victor to lead humanity is his true legacy. But it doesn’t stick– the would-be dictator who tries to use Treize’s name in service of his military takeover is killed by a nameless soldier, whose change of heart is motivated by the memory of what Treize actually died for. 

--It is not a victor who moved the hearts of the people, but a glorious loser.

[she-wolf09231982]

Chapter 3- The Letter

Summary: The US Navy had fled allowing the Japanese control of the sea, leaving the marines to fight the battle for Guadalcanal alone. They were vastly undersupplied, and many were on the verge of starvation and some at the mercy of malaria. As thousands of Japanese reinforcements poured onto the island, Kate, Blanche, and the boys were strafed and bombed relentlessly. It was during these harsh times Kate found herself becoming closer to the guys and in a constant state of worry when Hoosier isn't where she could hear or see him. 

A/N: Mature audience, BillHoosierSmithx!FemMedic, WW2, OC/Kate Danaher, Female Pronouns, Cursing/Swearing, Derogatory Slurs, Womanizing Comments, Military and Medical Terminology, Inappropriate Nicknames, HBO The Pacific References, Mentions/Descriptions of Death, Blood, Weaponry, Smoking, 💚Very small Band of Brothers cameo quote…if you blink you might miss it💚

Story takes place Episode 2 Basilone Chapters 1-5

*These stories may not fall entirely in accordance with the TV series timeline. I do not know the real Marines the actors portray in this series, so please understand I show no disrespect. Some or most of historical events and character interactions in my fanfics are fabricated purely for the sake of the enjoyment of fiction* 

~~~~~~~ 

Guadalcanal 

September 1942 

“What’s wrong with him?” Sgt Stone asked Kate while she kneeled over a young marine. 

She had been holding a thermometer to the man’s mouth, and when she removed it, it read 105. 

“His temp is 105. He’s clammy and sweating bullets but says he feels cold-has to be malaria, sarge.” Kate finalized with a frown. 

Sgt Stone shook his head, “He’s the fifth marine to catch this shit.” 

“He won’t survive here if he stays. I don’t have anything to treat him with since that cruiser sank with all the supplies we needed.”  

Sgt Stone nodded, “I’ll try to arrange for transport if it’s available. We’re pretty much on our own out here.” 

Kate nodded, “I’ll do what I can for him, sir.”  

~~~~~~~ 

H Company was due to push forward the following day upon hearing D Company making contact with the enemy some 15 miles ahead. The men were instructed to police their gear to be ready by 0500 the next morning for the convoy. Around sunset, Hoosier scavenged beyond the camp for anything palatable to bring back to his buddies and himself for dinner. 

Leckie, Runner, Chuckler, Sid, and Gibson sat in a 7’ by 8’ foxhole they had dug for all of them to fit in. 

As darkness engulfed the island and thunder rolled through, Hoosier returned with chow. 

“Supper’s on, supper’s on.” he announced as he jumped into the hole. 

“Anything good?” Gibson asked hopefully. 

“What are those?” Runner asked skeptically. 

“Army rations from 1918. Quartermaster at Dog Company claims they’re edible-” Hoosier began as he handed each of them a small, unmarked package of food. 

He noticed the look of disgust stretching across each of their faces as they tried biting into the stale hard-tack crackers that were stiff enough to crack their teeth. 

“-after you suck on them for about an hour or two.” Hoosier added. 

“This is all you could find?” Chuckler asked. 

“You fuckin’ forage next time.” Hoosier spat back. 

They all begrudgingly continued to eat. 

Kate appeared kneeling over the edge of their foxhole. 

“Hey, guys. Just making rounds. Everyone doin’ ok?” she asked. 

“Yeah, just havin’ some dinner while Leckie reads us his letter to his girl back home.” Runner replied playfully. 

“Who said I was writing to anyone?” Leckie retorted. 

“Come on, you can tell us. Go on, read it.” Chuckler pushed. 

“We’d do it for you.” Runner added. 

“Guys, leave him alone.” Kate chuckled, knowing it was all in good fun. 

Leckie shook his head and returned to writing on his pad of paper. 

“So, you guys are ok, then?” Kate reiterated. 

They collectively responded, “yeah yeah,” knowing she’d keep on them until they answered her. 

“Ok, good. Make sure you keep hydrating, too. See you guys later.” she reminded them before standing and walking off. 

“Speaking of girls; how’s that bet going Hoosier?” Runner asked. 

“I’d say I’m in the lead.” he stated assertively. 

“That’s because I’m giving you a head start! She won’t be able to resist me once I’ve unleashed my charm on her.” Chuckler countered. 

“Yeah, and he’s a Corporal now! The ladies love rank.” Runner pointed out. 

Hoosier scoffed, “Yeah? Well, I don’t think she’s that type of girl. She’s not impressed by the number of stripes on a marine’s sleeves.” 

“How would you know?” Chuckler asked. 

“I had a little visit with her yesterday. Sat and talked to her for about two hours sipping on that shit Jap wine that we had left.” Hoosier revealed. 

They all stared at him waiting for him to continue, but he remained silent knowing the anticipation was killing them. 

“And!?” Leckie prompted. 

“And she told me she was only here to do her part for her country by keeping us alive. No matter what I said or did to “charm” her, she went right back into talkin’ about medical mumbo-jumbo or about her two brothers in the 101st airborne,” he paused, “she’s actually real smart.” Hoosier explained. 

“Well, maybe you just don’t got it like I do.” Chuckler returned. 

Hoosier laughed, “Have it at, pal, I’m tellin’ ya, she’s a tough cookie to crumble. She doesn’t melt over the same things most dames do. You’ll have your work cut out for you.”  

“We’ll see!” Chuckler shot back confidently. 

~~~~~~~ 

By midafternoon the next day, H Company caught up with D Company, setting up outlook posts about a mile away in case the enemy approached. With an entire battalion in the same area, a proper aid station was available with tables and cots to tend to the wounded and sick. There was also a chow tent serving hot meals which none of the men have seen in weeks. 

Hoosier, Leckie, Chuckler, and Runner sat in a semi-circle with their plates of hot rice. 

“I hear the army finally landed.” Leckie shared. 

“Nice of them to join the party.” Runner stated sarcastically. 

“They have no idea what they’re walking into.” Chuckler added. 

“Yeah, well word is they came with loads of crates filled with some good shit.” Hoosier voiced. 

“Oh yeah?” Leckie asked, his interest piqued. 

“Maybe we can get at some of that!” Chuckler suggested. 

“If you do, see if you can get some clean bandages, and some morphine. And get me some goddam scissors, I can’t get any.” Kate requested as she walked past the group after hearing them scheming about the army supply delivery. 

“Yes, ma’am!” Chuckler confirmed enthusiastically as he shot a cheeky grin at Hoosier. 

Hoosier released an exasperated sigh as he rolled his eyes at him, 

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot, Juergens.” 

~~~~~~~ 

As the Army staged the dozens of wooden crates and drawstring laundry bags on the beach, an air raid siren sounded off alerting the men of an enemy attack. The newcomer soldiers, unaware that the siren was signifying the attack on the airfield and not the beach, started running for cover leaving the boxes and bags unattended and up for grabs.

The marines waiting in the brush of the jungle like predators waiting to pounce, watched as the last few soldiers disappeared before they took advantage of the situation. 

Platoons of marines scattered out of the tree line like roaches, breaking open boxes and foot lockers, and dumping bags to grab what they could before the army came back. 

Hoosier found a good-sized crate with a red cross insignia painted on it.  

“Has to be scissors in here.” he thought outloud to himself. 

He looked around and found a crowbar lying on the ground. Snatching it up, he got to work on opening the box. As he removed the final nail, he pushed the cover off revealing an assortment of medical supplies to include cases of morphine and first aid kits.  

Hoosier scanned the area around him, “Hey Runner! Come here!”  

Runner trotted over to him and looked into the box, “Nice, you found the medic supply.” 

“Help me grab a few of these, will ya?” Hoosier asked as he handed him a couple cases of morphine.  

“Why don’t you ask Chuckler?” Runner teased as he tucked the box under is arm. 

Hoosier laughed, “You snooze, you lose.”  

Runner snickered as he grasped the handles of three syrette cans in his right hand while slinging a sack filled with tactically acquired treasures over his left shoulder. 

Leckie ran over, “Here! Throw some of those in the bag so we can carry more back.”  

He presented a large empty duffel bag for Hoosier to throw more syrette cases and first aid kits in. 

“Perfect.” Hoosier commended. 

As he tossed as many as he could into the bag, the army rushed back shooing the marines away. The marines took off running towards their camp, each cackling triumphantly at the soldiers behind them. 

~~~~~~~ 

After the excitement settled down, Hoosier, Chuckler, Sid, Gibson and Runner sat in a more secluded area of camp shifting through the prizes they obtained. Leckie sauntered up while carrying his drawstring bag of goods, sporting his new pair of moccasin slippers to the foxhole as a campfire kindled.

“Anything happen while I was prospecting?” Leckie asked the group outloud. 

“Betty Hutton stopped by giving out blowjobs,” Hoosier replied, “What’d you get?” 

Leckie took a seat on the log and showed off the items he got. While he was handing out cans of peaches to the guys, Kate approached them. 

“Hey, guys, did you hear that the army was looted during the air raid earlier toda-”

She stopped a few feet behind Hoosier as Chuckler was waving a can of peaches at Runner who had been sitting by the tree line with his pants down dealing with a bad case of diarrhea. 

“Peaches? I’ve got the goddam runs, and you had to get peaches.” Runner hissed at Leckie. 

“They were all out of cheese, Runner.” Leckie called back. 

The puzzle pieces started to come together as she looked over the scene in front of her. She noticed Leckie with a pair of comfy patent leather house shoes on, the multiple cans of fruit, and the brand-new M-1 rifles next to each man where they sat. She watched as Leckie excitedly carved an opening in his can, eager to eat the peaches and drink the nectar inside. 

“Uh, Bob, you’ll wanna take that slowly,” she cautioned, “you haven’t had real food for weeks, you might-” 

“I’ll be fine, Ace.” Leckie insisted cutting her off. 

Not at all heeding her warning, he inhaled the peaches and sugary liquid from his can. He slowly lowered it looking suddenly alarmed and pale, apparently regretting his hasty decision. He began gagging as he rushed over not too far from where Runner was and vomited the peaches he just consumed onto the grass in front of him. 

Runner laughed at Leckie, pleased and entertained by his misery. 

“Ugh, I told you, Leckie.” Kate pointed out with her hands on her hips shaking her head at him. 

The others sniggered as they slowly ate from their cans so as not to end up like Leckie. 

“Well, I was going to ask if you guys heard the air raid siren earlier, but I assume you did.” she continued as she crossed her arms in a motherly fashion. 

The guys responded with a collective, “Mmhm.” 

She waited, her lips pursed together as she scanned each of them with skepticism to see if they’d own up to what they had been doing during the air raid. They remained quiet, hanging their heads as they avoided eye contact with her while eating their peaches. She already knew, though. She just wanted to see if they’d confess without her outright asking them. She shook her head again, deciding it best to let it go. 

“Hey, Ace-” Runner called out to Kate, “my ass is killing me, can’t you do anything about this??” he begged. 

“Is there blood?” Kate asked invasively outloud in front of the guys. 

Runner’s eyebrows creased together inquisitively, “Huh?” 

Kate huffed irritably and walked closer to Runner, “Is there blood in your stool?” she clarified, speaking slowly. The others groaned in disgust, each placing their cans down. 

“Um-” Runner looked over his shoulder, “-no.”  

“Ok, good,” she stated as she turned on her heel to walk back, “When you’re finished relieving yourself over there, come see me. The nurses over at Dog Company gave me a case of sodium solution that can help that.”   

Kate walked past the group, “Enjoy your haul, you hooligans.” she said with a playful smile, winking at Hoosier as they made eye contact when she passed. 

Leckie slumped back onto the ground across from Hoosier, “When are you giving her the morphine and shit?”  

“Tonight.” Hoosier affirmed. 

“No way! You found her some morphine? What about bandages? And scissors!? How!?” Chuckler asked genuinely befuddled when Hoosier nodded. 

“Simple, I looked for it.” Hoosier responded smugly as he leaned back on his elbows. 

The guys laughed as Chuckler grimaced, resentfully drinking more juice from his can. 

~~~~~~~ 

That night as Hoosier was preparing the aid kits and morphine to bring to Kate and Blanche, fire clouds exploded in the distance and were steadily progressing closer towards them. Japanese aircraft’s were heading towards them dropping bombshells in their wake.

Whatever man wasn’t under the safety of cover dove into the nearest foxhole they could get to.

Enemy aircrafts soared over H and D Company posts, relentlessly deploying one bomb after the other as they passed. Multiple men shouting to take cover, and some crying out in fear, there was nothing they could do other than wait it out. 

The following morning, every marine across the camp that wasn’t injured or stuck beneath the sand was either digging to find survivors that were buried alive or carrying the wounded to the medical personnel. The entire site was in shambles with Jeeps destroyed and burned to a crisp while fallen palm trees lay across where the men’s foxholes were, trapping marines' underneath. 

The hustle and bustle of the aid station was never ending. Kate and Blanche along with a few Dog Company medics and a couple of nurses scampered from one man to another trying to keep them alive while able marines brought more wounded on stretchers. 

“Put him on that table there!” Kate directed to the men who brought another marine with a wound to his right leg. 

Kate rushed over, “What do we got?”  

“Right thigh wound. He said shrapnel impaled him after one of the explosions went off right by him when he was running for cover.” one of the men explained quickly. 

Kate tore through the pantleg to get to the wound. She knew right away by the saturation of the blood that the artery was severed. 

“Blanche! Bring me gauze, sulfur and bandages! I need to pack this, NOW!” Kate yelled across the floor. 

Blanche hurried over with what Kate needed, unraveling the long bandage and opening a bottle of sulfur to clot the wound. Kate balled up the end of the dressing, pushing it down deep into the gash packing it as tight as she could. The man shrieked and bawled, kicking and grabbing at Kate to escape the torture. 

“Jesus, hold him down! I can’t do this if he’s moving around like that!” Kate bellowed. 

The two men that brought him in pinned him down by his arms while Blanche secured his legs by his ankles. Kate layered the bandage hard into his wound, then when she couldn’t fit anymore, she placed a padded bandage over the top wrapping the ends snug around the thigh tying it down to maintain pressure. The bleeding had finally stopped. 

Kate took a syrette and injected it into the meatier part of the marine’s shoulder. 

“Take him over there where the rest of ‘em are.” Kate panted as she weakly motioned over to the treated casualties, recovering in the shade of a hanging tarp. 

“You doing ok, Kate?” Blanche asked. 

Kate nodded, “Did you see Sid?”  

“No, thank goodness,” Blanche breathily replied, “What about Hoosier?”  

Kate looked at her shocked, “Well, no. But I haven’t seen Leckie, Chuckler, Gibson, or Runner either.” she added.  

Blanche raised an eyebrow at her best friend, “Honey, I know you fancy the man. You don’t have to hide it from me.” 

“I don’t know what you’re-” 

“Ssshhh...” Blanche shushed Kate placing her fore finger over Kate’s lips, “your secret is safe with me.” 

 Kate scoffed at her then rolled her eyes, “We got more work to do.”  

She turned around and made herself busy with the next injured marine. 

~~~~~~~ 

Kate sat alone behind the rickety medic shelter, taking a minute to let her brain rest by closing her eyes and humming a tune quietly to herself. The hum of her voice slowly became words as she sang the song softly outloud.  

“There you are.” Hoosier’s voice came crashing through Kate’s tranquil thoughts. 

Kate gasped as her heart and body jumped from surprise. 

“Bill, you have GOT to stop sneaking up on me like that!” she told him clutching the front of her uniform. 

Hoosier chuckled, “I am sorry, I really don’t mean to.”  

Kate released a long exhale, “Glad to see you’re ok, though.” she admitted looking up at him through her eyelashes as he stood over her. 

“You, too.” he returned. 

Kate blushed, smiling weakly as she looked down at her lap. She looked behind him and noticed a dog sniffing around.

"Looks like you got yourself a new friend." she acknowledged.

Hoosier looked over his shoulder, "Yeah, after all the bombings last night this little fella slipped into our foxhole, so I grabbed him. Hasn't left my side since." he explained.

The dog looked up at him as if he knew Hoosier was talking about him.

"He's adorable." Kate cooed.

“I have something for you.” Hoosier declared. 

“For me?”  

“Yep. But you need to close your eyes.” he instructed. 

Kate narrowed her eyes in suspicion, “Why?”  

“Trust me.” he insisted grinning proudly. 

Kate clicked her tongue at him but closed her eyes as he requested. 

“Hold out your hand.” 

She presented her hand palm up in front of her.

"Stay." she heard him command to the dog.

She felt his calloused palm gently slip under hers. His surprisingly tender touch sent electrical currents up her arm and through the rest of her body. She almost wasn’t able to contain her shudder. 

Just then, she felt a hard slender object placed on her palm as he slowly removed his hand from under hers. 

“Ok, you can look now.” Hoosier told her. 

Kate opened her eyes, face to face with Hoosier kneeling right in front of her, his eyes as blue as the water behind him. She looked down at her hand to find a pair of scissors.  

Kate’s eyes widened with excitement as she smiled at him. 

“You got me scissors!” she squealed throwing her arms around his neck pulling him into a hug. 

Hoosier chuckled as he loosely embraced Kate around her torso, “Yeah, I found a crate full of first aid kits and morphine and grabbed you a whole bunch of ‘em.” 

Kate leaned back looking at him in disbelief, “You did?” 

Hoosier nodded, “Leckie and Runner helped, too so we could get as much for you as we could. I brought them over and left them by the aid station for you. There are at least a dozen scissors over there so you’ll never run out of them again.”  

Kate’s heart almost rocketed out of her chest.

“You didn’t get anything for yourself while you were out there?”

“Nah, I don’t need much.” he dismissed.

She beamed adoringly at him and pulled him back for another hug. 

“You missed your chance to get something for yourself to get me what I needed? Thank you.” she whispered to him.

He squeezed her tighter, “Of course.” he purred back. 

They pulled away slowly, still smiling at eachother. Kate patted Hoosier’s shoulder before standing up. 

“I’m going to go take a look at those kits before anyone tries to get their mitts on them.” Kate proclaimed as she headed towards the casualty collection point. 

Hoosier fixated on Kate as she walked away. He was lost in a daydream relishing the feeling of her pinned against him when they hugged. It was the closest feeling to home he’s felt since he got to Guadalcanal. 

Kate stopped and turned to Hoosier, “You comin’?”  

Hoosier snapped out of his trance and clumsily scurried over to join her for the walk back to the aid station. 

~~~~~~~ 

As D and H Company fixed up the camp as best they could, they returned to foxholes to keep watch of the line. Col Puller (known as ‘Chesty’ to the marines) disclosed intelligence that the enemy was going to try to take Matanikau which was south of the airfield where the Americans currently had control. Most of the battalion was to join the 5th and 1st marines there to help defend the coast road into the airfield to maintain that control. This meant that Dog Company would be entirely alone on the front lines as they relocate to sector 3 of the island. H Company had their own orders. 

Hoosier and Runner were tasked to set up a listening and observation post 30 yards inside the treeline. While they were gathering their weapons and gear, Kate walked up with two ammo cans in her hand. A look of concern appeared across her face when she saw a tired rough looking Hoosier with his dog and Runner packing up gear behind him. 

“Where you two going?” she asked. 

“We’re settin’ up a little less than a mile that way along the perimeter.” Runner replied pointing in the direction they were going to be heading. 

“Oh?” Kate queried. 

“Yeah, the Japs decided to go around us to hit the airfield. We got the first watch for two hours at sunset.” Hoosier explained. 

Kate looked down at her boots inadvertently kicking at the sand, “I see.” 

Hoosier stopped what he was doing to look her over and noticed what she had been holding. 

“Whatchya got there, Ace?” he asked gesturing with his head at the small metal boxes. 

Kate’s breath hitched in her throat as she looked up at Hoosier, “Oh-” she looked back down at the cans perplexed like they just appeared in her hands, “-it’s for you guys. I figured you’d need these more than me and Blanche.”  

She walked closer to Runner and Hoosier handing them each a container. Runner opened the can and saw stacks of crackers neatly packed to the brim. Hoosier looked into Runner’s can, then beamed back at Kate. 

“I heard you guys traded your saltines for the peaches and figured once you ran out of fruit you’d need more rations in the field. Good thing I caught you before you two took off.” she remarked. 

“You’re giving us your food?” Runner asked utterly surprised while Hoosier gaped at her. 

Kate’s eyebrows drew in together, “Of course. Someone’s gotta take care of you boys.”  

Kate averted her eyes to Hoosier.  She blushed seeing he had been gazing at her the whole time, his lazy smile and droopy blue eyes, ready to worship the ground she walked on.  

“We’re so lucky to have you.” Hoosier muttered. 

“Yeah, thanks, Ace!” Runner said as he ascended into the cubby hole shelter they all built to share the fresh crackers with the rest of the group. 

“Anytime, Runner!” Kate called out. 

Hoosier, still smiling, walked towards Kate, leaving very little room between them when he reached her. Kate hiccupped when he stood inches from her, looking up at him with her sparkling green eyes. 

“You didn’t have to do that, you know?” he asserted. 

Kate grinned, “I know. You guys would do the same for me and Blanche.”  

Hoosier’s smile widened, “Absolutely.”  

“I have one other thing,” Kate stated as she dug into her dungaree pocket, “-here.” 

She held a sealed envelope with the name ‘Bill’ written in cursive on the front. He took it from her and as he looked it over, he realized he didn’t recognize the handwriting.  

He looked back at her, “Who’s this from?”  

Kate laughed, “Me, silly!”  

A smile returned to his face, “But why?” 

“Well, I heard you saying something about Leckie having a girl back home to send letters to and that you didn’t. So, I wrote you one.” Kate explained. 

Hoosier’s heart melted, practically becoming a puddle at his feet. He looked back at the letter smiling so hard his cheeks started to ache. 

“Well, thank you Kate Danaher. That’s about the nicest thing that any broad has ever done for me.” he admitted. 

“Glad to hear it. Oh, and you should wait to read it when you’re feeling crummy during one of your watches. It’ll cheer you up.” she insisted. 

“What if I want to read it now?” Hoosier asked with a mischievous smile. 

Kate laughed, “Defeats the purpose of me writing it for you! It’ll be worth the wait, cross my heart!” she promised as she drew a crisscross over her chest with her fingers. "-And when you do read it, you'll have to write me back. Those are the rules."

Hoosier was absolutely mesmerized by her childlike innocence. 

“Ok, I’ll save it.” he pledged placing the letter in the breast pocket of his uniform. 

Kate standing on her tiptoes snaked her arms over his shoulders pulling him into a hug as his arms instinctively embraced her pulling her flush against him.

“Please be careful. Both of you.” Kate whispered. 

Hoosier’s heart pounding against his ribcage had his chest heaving as his strong hands kneaded Kate’s upper back. He nodded, agreeing to her request. 

“Promise?” Kate implored. 

“I swear it.” Hoosier reassured; his voice low and calm like a song to Kate’s ears. 

~~~~~~~ 

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Dan’s Tour/We’re All Doomed! (2) Masterlist

part one

A Birthday Reunion (Welcome Home Dan) (ao3) - beepsnbops

Summary: Dan’s been on tour for a bit, but he would never let exhaustion and a busy schedule keep him from seeing Phil on such an important day of the year.

another day (ao3) - wearealldoomed

Summary: “It’s another day in the forever house. It’s been a day since uploading ‘We’re All Doomed’ to the channel that started it all. Dan Howell gets to live another day.”

Codependent? Maybe Just A Little (ao3) - hygge

Summary: Dan leaves to go on tour and Phil’s a little bit of a mess.

Continents Apartment (ao3) - floweretfairies

Summary: Dan’s stroking his cock, reaching for his phone. He needed his man, but they were continents apart.

dangender (ao3) - classichysteria

Summary: it’s late at night and dan just wants to talk about what’s on his their mind

falling into lava (for a second, forever) (ao3) - jonsaremembers

Summary: Dan did a thing and Phil's so proud of him.

Flying home to you (ao3) - harrysbabyboo

Summary: I just found out Dan flew back from the Australian leg of his ‘we’re all doomed’ tour for Phil’s birthday and I am DEVASTATED.

Home Is Wherever I’m With You (ao3) - howell_slide

Summary: “You being here is the best birthday present I could ever ask for,” Phil murmurs.

Or, Dan flies home from his tour to come celebrate Phil’s birthday.

I missed you so much I dyed the towels green (ao3) - chuuyaswife

Summary: A few of Dan’s shows get cancelled while he’s on the WAD tour so he decides to surprise his boyfriend back home for a few days. Fluffy reunion ensues.

It's only you. (ao3) - KirstieVic

Summary: Dan is away on tour for WAD and he and Phil have an agreement.

loud heart (ao3) - phiclets

Summary: "Phil has quoted Dan's original announcement tweet, so the endorsement sits on top of Dan's name, glowing with pride. A few things happen at once in Dan then. First, there's the impulse to snort at the nickname danny, which is Phil being silly (and succeeding at it, as he always does). Then there's the warmth that suffuses his entire chest from Phil Lester openly expressing his emotions for Dan's sake on a public platform, an occurrence so rare it still shocks (and essentially assaults) Dan whenever it happens. Then, from that warmth, comes the immediate, overwhelming, not so inexplicable urge to sob his lungs out."

The orange heart reply was a cultural moment; this is my vision of what might have led up to Dan posting it.

one & only (ao3) - daliddl

Summary: Dan just finished his very last We‘re All Doomed show in London and a certain unexpected guest is waiting for him in the dressing room.

[orange heart emoji] (ao3) - natigail

Summary: WE'RE ALL DOOMED finds its home on YouTube and Dan breaks the whole phandom with one single emoji. It's okay. If Phil can be earnest, then so can Dan.

so you don't have to be brave (ao3) - Jamez

Summary: Dan is having trouble sleeping on tour. Phil helps.

The Habit of Confidence (ao3) - howell_slide

Summary: The first time he saw Sister Daniel, Phil had to say a little prayer.

Or, how Phil really feels about Sister Daniel.

“This is a lot, even for you.” (ao3) - yikesola

Summary: Phil should’ve known Dan was going to pull a worried move like calling PJ. Phil had shown Dan the result of his latest dying adventure. A ficlet about surviving and thriving.

This Love (ao3) - ForeverJustAnEmoKidAtHeart

Summary: Dan cannot wait until he's reunited with Phil in LA after two months apart, but the reunion doesn't go as he planned.

well, you gotta do something (ao3) - lagoonlarry

Summary: how i envisioned dan's WAD tour conception, and those conversations with phil

WE'RE ALL DOOMED! (ao3) - idkspookystuff

Summary: it's 2022, the sun is about to explode, and dan and phil go to the woods to reflect on the end

we’re (not) all doomed (ao3) - possumdnp

Summary: It's Dan's last-ever performance of We're All Doomed! and he's feeling emotional.

[sullustangin]

Finished Fic!

Pairing: Theron Shan x Smuggler

Rating: E (T this chapter)

Quick Quote:

Sana-Rae waved a hand, and an ancient medical file appeared.  It was not Eva’s. 

Theron took a step toward the information.  “That’s Revan’s file.”  He paused.  “It was part of the file I had to recover after the media broke.  He was housed in a machine for hundreds of years – they had to track his vitals for the Emperor’s sake.  Monitoring everything.”

Eva had a brief flash of a broken wrist and a medical evac for someone who shouldn’t have been alive.  And that froggy bastard that welched on the payment.  “I…I think I pulled that file – never read it, that wasn’t the job.  Just yank him and yank the memory bank of the life support machine he was hooked up to.  Figured the Pub would need it to keep him alive – otherwise why hire me?”

“Your prudence has rewarded us, many years later!”  Dr. Oggurobb crowed.  He nudged Sana-Rae aside and began his symphony of motion and data, his arms flapping almost enough to get some lift-off.   “The scientists affiliated with this feat of life support believed that the Emperor was utilizing the Revan patient to continue to observe this galaxy while he was attending to other matters.”

“Which ultimately turned out to be the reason why we’re here,” Theron filled in.

Oggurobb waved a hand in caution.  “I still must express skepticism as to the ability of any being to perform what this Emperor supposedly has.”

“Normally, I’d be right there with you, Dr. O.”  Eva managed a half-smile.  “I…have insider info that makes me give credence.”

[haveihitanerve]

Avengers: Age of Ultron is my favorite movie, and I am not going to attempt to explain it because I really don't think i can, but here are some of the best quotes from Ultron that I feel the need to share

“Language” “I know, just slipped out” “for gosh sake watch your language” “thats not going anywhere anytime soon”

“Oh look theyre all lining up” “yeah well, theyre excited” fucking obliterates them

“Somebody wanna deal with that bunker?” *destroys it* “thank you.”

“Guys, stop we gotta talk this through.” *shoots all of them* “it was a good talk.” “no it wasn't.”

“Please be a secret door please be a secret door please be a secret-.... Yay!”

“Thor report on the hulk.” “the halls of val halla are filled with the screams of his victims.” *bruce, buries face in hands, steve looks at the roof like lord give me strength, nat looks at thor like what the hell, thor anxiously scrambling to save it and does not succeed*

“Boss?” “Oh no hes the boss, I just design for everything and pay for everything and make everyone look cooler.”

“Hes fast and shes weird.” 

“How is he?” “Unfortunately hes still barton.” “Oh how terrible.” 

“I don't have a girlfriend.” “that i can’t fix.” 

“I've seen her flirting. Up close.” *walks away* *wait a min-*“w-what do you mean up close?” 

“No more renovating.” *in the middle of battle* “you know i think ill make the dining room a little space for laura.” Nat: no one eats in a dining room

“That the best you can do?” “you had to ask.”

“The city is flying, we’re fighting an army of robots, and I have a bow and arrow.” 

“Steve, he said a bad language word.” “You tell everyone about that?” 

“Very very interesting theories. I have a simpler one, you're all not worthy.” *groans, clint sticks tongue out at him*

“Cap doesn't like that kind of talk.” “you know what romanoff..”

“Aw junior. You're gonna break your old mans heart.” “Clearly you've never made an omelet.” “he beat me by one second.” 

“Go to sleep go to sleep go to sleep.” *hulk: roars* “...sorry.”

*steves face when clint greets his kids*

“We would have called ahead but we were busy having no idea that you existed.” 

“Do me a favor. Try not to bring it to life.” *tony: this bitch again? Why are you around every fucking corner you overprotective stalker*

*tony throwing darts* *clint throws a bullseye while hes taking his darts out*

“They're a mess.” “yeah. But they're my mess.” 

“Don't take from my pile.” 

“Just an old man who cares very much about you” tony being the only one to call fury Nick. (and maria hill but in a different movie so wtv)

“What were you napping?”

“Cap you got incoming.” *cut to steve trying to breathe on a car* “incoming already came in.”

“You get hurt, hurt ‘em back. You get killed… walk it off.”

“Evacuate the city.” *no ones moves* “get off your lazy asses.” *fires gun*

“🎶Ooooooh i'm decrypting nuclear codes and you don't want me to.🎶” (tony drop the full album im waiting)

“You're not a match for him cap.” …. “Thanks barton.” 

“Cap can you keep him occupied?” “What do you think i've been doing???”

“Beep beep.” 

“Stark is right.” “oooh its definitely the end times.” 

*everyone's faces when vision lifts the hammer*

“Iron man the ones hes waiting for.” “thats true, he hates you the most.”

“You cant save them all. You'll never-” *gets yeeted off city* “Ill never what? You didn't finish!!!”

“Keep up old man” *lifts bow* “nobody would know. Nobody. Oh last i saw him and ultron was sitting on him. Yeah he’ll be missed. That little bastard. I miss him already.” 

“Fury you son of a bitch.” “Whoo! You kiss your mother with that mouth?” 

“Its terribly well balanced.” “Well if theres too much weight you lose power on the swing so..” 

“Romanoff. You and banner better not be playing hide the zucchini.” 

“I was born yesterday.” 

Thor: says something serious and meaningful. Steve:...But if you put the hammer in an elevator..” Tony: itd still go up. Steve: elevators not worthy

“Im gonna miss these little chats.” “then don't go.” 😭

“Besides this one” *smacks tony* “theres nothing that cant be explained”

“That man has no regard for lawn maintenance.” 

“I will miss you tony.” 😭

“You wanna keep staring at the wall or do you wanna go to work? I mean, it is a nice wall.” “thought you and tony were still gazing into each others eyes.” 

Just them having casual conversations mid battle. I love. 

Its just that they are able, allowed to be a team, to be friends, we get to see them bond, not hate each other, we get to see serene team moments, we get the original six, its just them having a lot of fluff even with all the angst

[oddlittlestories]

42 + 44 for House, 27 + 37 for Wilson!!

- Housethemd (can’t ask from a sideblog, how annoying)

@housethemd

Ooh making me work for it with Wilson

House

3 comfort items:

The softball canon answer is (1) his ball of unknown origin (2) his motorcycle and (3) his instruments. (Add to that his t-shirt collection, his favorite fruit apron, and his assortment of desk items collected randomly over time. House is a secret collector. He loves his things.)

But I think I can push it further with 3 fun headcanons / fan ideas.

1. Favorite book—maybe Moby Dick (for obsession and a flight of fancy, characters who are even more intense than he is as a way of release) or Twelfth Night (yearning and gender fuckery plus you know he was that kid who devoured Shakespeare in middle school just to prove he could). For a genuinely “really, Bee,” option—the collected works of Sherlock Holmes. There are lots of Sherlock adaptations House wouldn’t relate to but the original works are not one. Anyways whatever it is it would be some old fancy volume with paper thin pages and a leather binding. Smells great. Feels great. Looks great on the shelf. He’s read it so many times he can quote from it so he doesn’t pull it out much anymore.

2. Weighted blanket. This man would love and needs a weighted blanket, but maybe he has one already. He would use it an unreasonable amount. Imagine the Ducklings rolling up to ask him a question and he’s in Thinking Mode but with a weighted blanket.

3. French press. He likes the way it makes coffee, it’s copper and he likes the way it looks. He likes the ritual of it. Yeah. French press.

Also he should have a tiny comfy (as much as possible) folding chair in his kitchen. Just saying.

His happiest memory:

I think this strongly depends on what time in his life we’re talking about, so I’m gonna play with that a bit.

Pre-infarction: the paintball game with Stacy. Can you imagine the sexually-tense snarking? The glowing feeling of meeting someone who implicitly understands you - or at least can match your blunt deviousness? A fun way to meet someone so much like you.

Post-infarction to s3: I like to think that somewhere in there was a fun & tender moment with Wilson that something reminds him of and makes him smile on occasion.

s4-5: his whole relationship with Kutner tbqh. Kutner blowing up patients. Kutner switching to no. 9. Screwing with Kutner in the cat episode.

s6: when Wilson buys the organ.

Thereafter I think his happiest memory is doing the spud gun thing with Thirteen and when she tells him that promising to kill her was the best way she’d ever been loved.

Wilson

Guilty pleasure:

I’m just gonna redefine this as “embarrassing pleasure” for my own sake.

Canon: Telenovelas. Look at his defensiveness. Look at the plea in his voice when he begs for the season finale. This man is not learning Spanish. He knows Spanish. And loves telenovelas.

Headcanon: stuffed animals. He doesn’t keep any in the house for a long period of time, but he buys them as gifts as often as possible. He can’t help but anthropomorphize them and likes to hug them and do funny voices. If he was more able to allow himself to do what he wants and fly in the face of convention, he’d have quite a few. (Not hundreds or anything, bc he’d connect with each one, but maybe four or five. They’d live on the bed or the couch.)

What he really thinks about himself:

See now this is the tough one. So many (all?) of the House MD characters are layers within layers, and Wilson is tough bc he’s often unaware of what’s going on with himself. So what he *really* thinks of himself? Hmm.

I think he thinks he deserves better in so many situations. I think sometimes he might be waiting for someone to save him, that if he’s good enough maybe he’ll deserve it & it’ll happen. I think he believes he has to be as giving of a person as he can be or else he is committing a crime / causing harm / not fulfilling his moral and ethical responsibilities. I think he knows he goes above and beyond but is terrified that isn’t true. (And I do think the one hc that he has moral perfectionism OCD makes a lot of sense.)