i ♡ Katsuki
@ermespop
[♀️| 19 | 🇩🇴 /eng]
christian baptist
[wttp:@iheartrintaro]
sleeping probs
https://missmees.carrd.co/
Imagine Ghost accidentally conditioning the 141...
Ghost is busy. Always. Too much paperwork, too many reports, too many logistics to handle before training. It’s 1400 before he realizes he’s skipped lunch. Again.
Not a big deal. Not the first time. Won’t be the last.
But he is hungry.
His eyes land on the bright pink bag of Valentine’s Day mini Snickers that’s been sitting, untouched, on his desk for a week. They were part of a bulk shipment to the base; some gift or something.
Not exactly lunch. But it’ll do.
He grabs the bag and heads for the training field. He’s two minutes late, not that it matters much because Soap and Gaz already have the unit ready.
"Where’s Price?" he asks, tearing open the bag as he walks up.
"Got pulled away. You’ve got this one, Sir," Gaz replies, raising a brow as Ghost lifts his mask just enough to pop a Snickers into his mouth.
Ghost doesn’t react, just grunts.
Today’s drill is a simple infiltration exercise. Hell, it's something Ghost or Price hardly have to be here for. Their presence would be more of a formality. Gaz leads the attackers. Soap leads the defenders. The teams get ten minutes to plan, to prep.
And then Ghost sounds the time up, and the groups move.
Ghost watches, leaning against a crate, chewing another Snickers, barely paying attention to one of the new guys—until the kid steps right into a trap. Ghost sees it before he does.
Blue powder erupts into his face.
Soap’s defenders descend, but the kid doesn’t go down easily. Blind, but still fighting back, holding his own until his team pulls him out.
Soap's team wins. Barely.
When it’s over, the teams regroup. Ghost is still eating Snickers.
He turns to the recruit, still dusted blue.
"What 'appened?"
"Didn’t see the wire." The kid shifts uncomfortably.
Ghost turns to the unit. "Who set it?"
One of the defenders raises a hand. Ghost considers him for a moment before reaching into the bag.
He tosses a mini-Snickers at the soldier.
The guy catches it. Looks at it. Looks at Ghost. Eats it.
Ghost turns back to the newbie. "Held your own. Tha' matters. Surprises happen. Don’t let ‘em get you again."
And that’s it. Training’s dismissed. Ghost pockets the rest of the Snickers and moves on.
...
The next day, Price is still gone. Ghost doesn’t skip lunch this time, but he still brings the Snickers bag.
They run the same drill.
Same recruit. Same route. But this time, he checks everything. Quick. Efficient. Finds the wire. Disarms it.
No blue powder today.
Gaz’s team wins.
Ghost eyes the recruit and flicks a Snickers at him. The kid catches it mid-air.
...
By the end of the week, Price is still gone. Ghost keeps the pink bag of Snickers on him during training. Like it's just another part of his kit.
One or two mini snickers get handed out every session. And nobody really notices at first. But the team starts moving differently.
They work harder. Smarter. More ruthless. More efficient. No one wants to be the guy who doesn’t get a Snickers.
Even the veterans sharpen their tactics. Gaz and Soap notice. But no one says a damn thing. If Ghost is going to give them snickers, then shut the gel up and let him give them snickers.
...
They're sent on a mission. High stakes.
They don't lose a single man. Not a single injury.
At the end of it, back on their transport home, Ghost pulls the pink danm bag from some unassuming pocket and hands out the snickers.
The men take them without question. They earned it.
But Ghost is running low. The bag nearly empty.
...
At the next training, Ghost doesn't hand out a single snickers. Not on purpose, but the bag is empty, so there's nothing left to do.
But the others notice. Gaz squints. Soap looks like a confused dog. Head tilt and all. The newbies glance at each other, shifting.
...
Two days later, Ghost swings his door open at 0600 sharp—and pauses.
Sitting just outside his door, neat as you please, is a bag of mini Snickers. Not the Valentine’s ones anymore. Just regular.
Ghost blinks. Hums. Pleasantly surprised, he picks up the bag, inspecting it briefly before stuffing it into his tac vest like it’s just another piece of gear.
He doesn’t think much of it. It’s a good snack.
At training, he does as he always does. Watches. Observes. Evaluates.
And then, without thinking, he tosses a Snickers at a recruit who clears a building faster than expected.
He snaps to attention as he catches it, eyes shining. Ghost does not question it.
The pattern continues.
And when he starts running low, Ghost finds a fresh bag of Snickers waiting for him.
Somebody—somewhere—has decided that the Snickers will not run out.
...
At training, at drills, in the field, there is a silent expectation. A new, unspoken rule. Do something exceptional? Get a Snickers.
The machine of the 141—the deadliest operators in the world—now snaps to attention at the crinkle of plastic.
They move with a ruthless kind of precision, bodies coiled, eyes sharp—waiting, anticipating.
Even Gaz and Soap are part of it now—though everyone refuses to acknowledge it outright.
But the moment Ghost hands one of his men a Snickers, he takes it.
Silently. Gratefully. Like a goddamn reward.
Ghost does not acknowledge this. Not out loud. But he keeps handing them out.
And they keep earning them.
They'd quite literally kill for a Snickers. (imagine what they'd do for an expensive piece of chocolate)
...
And then Price comes back three weeks later. He walks into the training area and pauses.
Something is off.
The unit is too sharp. Too focused. The newbies stand stock still in their group, as if waiting for something.
Gaz and Soap exchange a look. Soap refuses to meet Price’s eyes.
But he doesn't acknowledge it, until he begins unwrapping a plastic sleeve holding a new pen. The plastic is thick and loud. And half of their fucking head snaps his way. The hungry eyes of three dozen of soldiers latching on him.
Ghost, standing at the edge of the group, tears open a fresh bag of Snickers.
And now the entire fucking unit reacts. Subtle shifts in stance. Focused attention. Expectant silence.
Price squints. Frowns.
Ghost flicks a Snickers at a recruit. He earned it today.
The recruit catches it like it’s a holy offering and eats it immediately.
Price’s frown deepens. Slowly, carefully, he turns to Ghost. “The fuck did I miss?”
If you do this with my fics, or anyone's fics, please know I HATE you. I hate you more than every troll comment, every "your writing sucks kys" comment, every "update soon" comment. I hate you. Other authors hate you. If you want my fic, you either WAIT for it or you pay me for it. And if you won't do one of those things, you don't deserve my fic or anyone else's.
Voilà mes pensé.es sur Kirishima et pourquoi Bakugo prendrait sa main et pas la de Midoriya. Ma thèse est qu’il est à cause de leurs méthodes morales.
Midoriya comme un personnage est motivé par les gens dans ses éthiques. Il sauver des autres parce que il voudrait eux aider dans un façon individuel. On peut le voir avec Kota et Eri. Quand Midoriya faire du héroïsme il pense des personnes il voudrait de secourir et ceux qui a se soutenu. Il est motivé pas l’empathie.
Mais Bakugou se voir sa empathie comme la pitié. On peut observer se fait avec leur enfance. Bakugo se déteste l’apitoiement parce qu’il a leur d’être se prendre de haut. Et pour quel raison il ne peut pas accepter l’aide de Midoriya. Il verrait la compassion de Midoriya comme la condescendance.
Pour contre, Kirishima se suit l’éthique de la virtu avec une accentuation sur la virtu de la virilité. Sa motivation première pour aider des gens c’est car c’est quoi un vrai homme ferait. On peut le voir dans les pensés de Kirishima chaque fois il est dans une crise. Parce qu’il a ce motivation dans ces actions morales je ne pense pas qu’il a décidé de sauver Bakugo parce que il est Bakugo mais parce qu’il est un ami et camarade de Kirishima et un bon homme quand leur ami est en une situation dangereuse l’aiderait.
Donc pour Bakugo c’est facile de prendre la main de Kirishima et pas Midoriya puisque pour Kirishima sa motivation d’offrir sa main n’a rien à faire avec Bakugo mais plus sur le principe de la solidarité entre amis et ça à se permettre Bakugo de ne l’a pas vu comme la pitié.
im practicing french with this 😈
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Hello,
I hope you’re all doing well. 🌿
I need your help to share my family's story and raise awareness about our struggle. Every voice counts, and your support means the world. 🙏
💬 Please reblog my pinned post or, if you're able, consider donating just $5—it could be life-changing for those facing unimaginable hardship.
Your kindness and solidarity make a real difference. Thank you from the bottom of my heart! 🤍✨
how to explain to mutuals that while yes you can have my discord, and i wanna hang out! my response time is anywhere between 3-7 business days
stray cat that's very affectionate and enjoys spending time on the porch with you but disappears once a week and after a while you think you'll never see them again until you open the front door and theyre sleeping in your boots
my bad