They’re dressed for a game which took place September 2nd, 2011, where in Austria’s hopes and dreams of qualifying for the 2012 UEFA European Championship were dashed straight to Hell thanks to Germany.
I imagine Austria is a bit of a sulker once losing. Meanwhile, Prussia is bouncing around, expecting a hug and some praise like Old Fritz used to give him.
I’m sure these two always find a way to make up later…
So I was heading to work one morning around 10:00. My city has an interstate that circles the perimeter and in a lot of curvy, hilly places the speed limit is 55, and rabidly patrolled by the police.
I was going up a long hill around a corner, not much traffic around me when this loud, jacked up pick-up truck comes up behind me. He has plenty of room to go around (it’s like 5 lanes wide, for f*ck’s sake, and I’m in the center lane), but I’m only doing like fifty miles an hour, and I guess he didn’t like it.
Of course, I slow down a little more just to be a d*ck and he finally roars up beside me and honks his horn. I see him flash “fifty-five!” with his hand and then he flips me a bird and blows by me.
About that time we crest the hill, and you guessed it, Karma must have had a hard-on for reckneck d*ckheads that day, as a state trooper pulled out behind him with the lights on. If I had to guess, he was doing about 70 in a 55, and had just honked and road-raged at me, which I hoped the cop had seen.
As he slowed down and moved to the right I passed him on the left, still doing about 50-ish. We made eye contact and I just smiled and flashed “fifty-five” with my hand and mouthed the words “fifty-five, a**hole, fifty-five”. Petty revenge, motherf*cker, petty revenge.
An unusually handsome man, he has been painted with brush and pen a hundred times, but yet there is always something to say of that noble, unostentatious figure, the perfect poise of head and shoulders and limbs, the strength that lay hidden and the activity that his fifty-five years could not repress. Withal graceful and easy, he was approachable by all; gave attention to all in the simplest manner. His eyes—sad eyes! the saddest it seems to me of all men's—beaming the highest intelligence and with unvarying kindliness, yet with command so firmly set that all knew him for the unquestioned chief. He loved horses and had good ones, and rode carefully and safely, but I never liked his seat. The General was always well dressed in gray sack-coat of Confederate cloth, matching trousers tuck into well-fitting riding-boots—the simplest emblems of his rank appearing, and a good, large black felt army hat completed the attire of our commander. He rarely wore his sword, but his binoculars were always at hand. Fond of the company of ladies, he had a good memory for pretty girls. His white teeth and winning smile were irresistible. While in Savannah and calling on my father, one of my sisters sang for him. Afterwards, in Virginia, almost as soon as he saw me he asked after his ‘little singing-bird.’
Gilbert Moxley Sorrel’s description of Robert E. Lee in his memoir, Recollections of a Confederate Staff Officer
Please, please check out the art by @piercelovewonton found here. There is a second set of art that contains spoilers for the fic you can find here. All of the art really is spectacular. I am so amazed.
Word Count: 20K
Pairings: Soul x Maka
Warnings: Semi-explicit sexual content and graphic violence.
It’s mid-shift and the cafe is packed to the
rafters as it usually is in the afternoon. Already tired from a grueling
morning of midterms, Maka would love to take her break. It’s so crowded,
though, that they need her on register, so she greets the next customer in
line, barely able to keep the plastic smile on her lips.
“Welcome to DC Cafe, can I help you?”
She’s so used to orders being barked at her by
busy business people and frazzled college students that the hesitation gives
her pause. She looks at the guy in front of her, really looks, and
notices startling red eyes beneath a shock of somewhat messy white hair that he
runs his hand through almost nervously, his eyes darting between the counter
and the rest of the room.
“You want coffee?” she prods helpfully.
“Yeah.” He scratches at the back of his neck,
and Maka uses his averted gaze as a chance to inspect him more closely. He just
seems so familiar somehow. Though she’s sure she’s never seen him
before–she’d definitely remember a guy with white hair and red eyes–she still
feels like she should recognize him. It’s strange, and she’s not quite sure
what to make of him as he looks up at the menu like he’s trying to read Attic
“Tall–house blend–cream and sugar, maybe?” she
helpfully supplies the most common order.
“Uh, no.” He squints up at the board, eliciting
a chorus of huffs and groans from the line behind him. “Americano. Gigante, I
“Seriously?” Maka scoffs, unable to stop
herself. She’s seen a lot of ridiculousness in the name department in her time
at the the cafe–Jack Hoff, Fah Que, Mike Hunt, the list is long–but this is a
“As a heart attack.” He meets her gaze for the
first time and holds it and she feels–something. Something warm and
strange in her chest that she wants to stifle and let die, that she wants to
fan and make burn bright, that she just doesn’t understand.
Tearing her eyes away to the register, she
forces out, “That’ll be five-fifty.”
“Seriously?” It’s his turn to scoff.
“As the zombie apocalypse.”
He laughs and shakes his head as he hands over a
ten. “Pfft, you’re terrible at this.” His voice is deep but warm, and she likes
the way it rumbles through her even from a few feet away, the way she can
practically feel it in her bones. It still seems so much like she knows
him from somewhere, his face, his voice, but she doesn’t, and it’s
nagging at her like an itch she can’t quite scratch.
“You can pick up your drink at the other side of
the counter–have a nice day!” Maka calls out to his back with forced cheer as
he makes his way to the pick up area. She tries to track where he goes, but
it’s so busy that she loses sight of him as she helps other customers until she
finally gives up and forgets what had been so interesting about him to begin
“Do you remember all those years ago when you told
me we’ll be together until the day you’ll die?”
“I-I never thought you’ll be serious about it…”
Hinata, for a moment, stopped to cough and she reached for her medicine, her
wrinkled hands catching her attention. She retreats her arm and looked down on
her hand, which had become so worn out over the years.
Naruto gazes at her and he follows her line of
direction. His eyes softened and he squeezed the hand he was holding. He didn’t
have much strength left—he was around his 80’s after all—but for Hinata, who
was his wife for more than twenty years and who became the love of his life,
he’ll do anything for her. He knew how much their age worn down Hinata and he
couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out why. He loved her still, like he did
when he was nineteen or when he was thirty or forty five or sixty six. It
didn’t matter what age they were in, he still believes she is the most
beautiful woman in the planet.
“Hina…” His other unoccupied hand caressed her
wrinkled cheek and tucked a strand of indigo with white streaks behind her ear.
Her droopy eyes tendered and she pressed closer to the palm of her husband, of
her love, of her life.
“Hai, Naruto?” Her voice was no longer smooth like
she was young but it still held that tenderness that melts his heart.
“You’re so beautiful.” Even after these years, he
can still make her blush.
“D-Do you really think so?” She shyly glanced at the
ground. She felt her hand get squeezed and she gazed into deep blue eyes that
still look so alive like when he was younger. His face carried wrinkles and his
blond hair was barley shown because of his white streaks, but she still ran her
hands over his hair and she cuddles with him like no tomorrow. Her love, even
at this point, still proves to be strong. But ever since she first saw the
signs of aging, she worried Naruto might leave her because she will no longer
look so beautiful. But she was wrong.
“I know so, Hina. Why do you doubt yourself?” Many
years living together and in love comes with benefits. There were no lies or
mistrust. There was only love and understanding.
“L-Look at me. I’m so old…”
He chuckled and his wrinkled hands racked over his
short—nearly gone—hair. “I am looking at you. You’re beautiful like the first
time we shared our first kiss…” He wiggled his eyebrows and she laughed a sound
so deeply rich that he had to take a moment to just look at her and take it all
in. As he aged, he grew more afraid of Death. Not necessarily for him, but fear
of Hinata dying before him. But while that thought wasn’t always in his mind,
he also experienced a sense of calamity and started to appreciate the things
around him even more. He began to soak in every minute he had of his Hinata and
he couldn’t help the tears that escaped his eyes when he realized that he had
shared his life with someone who loves him. He found someone to love and that
someone loved him back even more. He created a family and continued the legacy
of his heritage. He achieved the greatest dream he ever dreamt of, bigger than
being Hokage: he created a family and found someone to love.
“N-Naruto, what’s wrong? Do you need your medicine?”
Hinata reached for her cane but he stopped her. He kissed her wrinkly, old
hands and kissed her nose. She was so beautiful. He kissed her lips and he
relished in her touch. He loves her so much.
“I-I love you.” Being old makes you emotional…well
that was his excuse.
“I love you too.” And she understood him because
she, too, became overridden with tears at times with a simple glance of her
husband. How she lived so far in life and she never regrets a single moment.
He kissed her once more before the door to their
small house opened.
“Ew, gross. Kids don’t come in here because your
grandparents are kissing!” yelled a fifty five year old Boruto, his facial
expression eerily familiar to Naruto’s.
“Nii-san, don’t say that! They were sharing a
moment!” scolded a fifty year old Himawari, who grew to be as beautiful as her
Naruto and Hinata shared a look before standing up
with shaky legs. Naruto supported Hinata who leaned against a cane. But they
were both smiling, their eyes crinkled in happiness.
The next few days they were found in their bed,
snuggled close together with smiles on their face with no heart beat. Their
hands were interlocked and their foreheads were touching, their wedding rings
glistening when the sun hit them.
Chris doesn’t realize he does it, but he walks aimlessly downtown for nearly an hour. Once he figures out where he is, he makes a left, left, right and then he’s standing in Battery Park, allowing memories of the past flood his brain. He smiles to himself, brushes a single tear off his cheek.
Jily AU Week, Day 2 | Survival AU/ Muggle AU To separate them is unthinkable, but what happens when the unthinkable becomes reality. Beta: the wonderful nonthinkingbrain | (ff.net)
Shaufa didn’t want anyone to die, so I killed off someone.
Trigger Warning: Depression, Self-harm
Music starts playin’ like the end of a sad movie, It’s the kinda ending you don’t really wanna see. It’s the kind of ending you really don’t want to see Cause it’s tragedy and it’ll only bring you down Now I don’t know what to be without you around And I can’t breathe without you But I have to.
-Breathe (Taylor Swift)
The battle was dirty and rough. Mud underfoot made things complicated. James slipped and slid across the ground, throwing spell after spell over his shoulder, in front of him, next to his ear. He felt rather than saw his mates running around doing the same thing he was. But in this dark and dirty mess, he prayed the spell hit its mark and not a loved one.