#also! dont come for me its been along time since ive played an animal crossing game i dont know what any of the frogs are named

[youngpettyqueen]

ummm um fic recs….in a horrible turn of events garak and bashir have to babysit the ds9 kids?

ive been wracking my brains over how Garak and Julian would end up babysitting a bunch of the kids and I had a hard time figuring out something that would work with Jake and Nog, since theyre older and dont really need a babysitter, so I went with them babysitting Molly and Yoshi! I hope that's alright <3

Garak isn't sure what to expect when he the door to the O'Briens quarters slides open. All he knows is that Julian told him to come, and his only answer to Garak's many questions was to repeat himself with a don't ask just do it tone.

So, Garak had. He'd come. In the middle of the work day, something he's not planning on letting the Doctor forget. He'd come, and he steps inside as the door slides open, and he doesn't know what he was expecting to find here, but it certainly wasn't... this.

Julian is sitting on the floor by the coffee table, the infant Kirayoshi cradled securely in one arm. He also has what appears to be a plastic crown on his head, which is several sizes too small, and perches awkwardly atop his hair. The older of the O'Brien offspring, Molly, is sitting beside him, in what Garak would guess is a human princess costume, all shiny fabric and very, very pink.

Garak comes to pause, considering the scene before him. There are little plastic teacups and plates set out. A few larger plush toys are also around the table, with teacups and plates of their own. It's quite the little set up.

"Good morning, Doctor. Molly," He greets, turning a quizzical raised brow on Julian, "Might I ask why I was called here?"

Julian gives him a look that is very, very tired. "Good morning, Mr. Garak," He replies, "You were called here because you have been invited to Princess Molly's tea party." He informs him.

"Tea party?" Garak echoes.

"I'll explain later," Julian tells him, "Just come sit." He gestures to an open space at the other end of the coffee table.

"Wait!" Molly pipes up, quickly standing. Julian winces at her volume, quietly shushing her as he looks at Kirayoshi, who appears to be sleeping. Garak turns his attention to the child, who holds her head up high and informs him, "You have to bow first."

Garak considers her for a moment. He catches Julian stop himself from laughing in the corner of his eye. Of course, Garak knows about royalty systems, so he knows what a princess is. And he can't imagine himself bowing to one, but Molly has a very stern look on her very little face, and he has a feeling he's in for a fight if he doesn't comply.

He bows. Dramatically, with a flourish. Molly giggles, and the sound is... pleasing.

"Thank you for the invitation, Princess," Garak bids her, continuing to play along as he straightens himself, "May I...?" He gestures to the open seat.

Molly, to his surprise, shakes her head. "Not there," She tells him, "You have to sit with Uncle Julian. Miss Flutterhooves will move." She gestures at the plush sitting on Julian's opposite side- an equine, if he remembers his Earth animals correctly, except this one is... purple, and it has a shiny silver horn protruding from its forehead.

He goes with it. Why not, at this point? He's clearly not getting out of this. "Of course," He says agreeable, stepping closer. Since the plush toy can't move, for obvious reasons, he gently picks it up, "Pardon me, Miss... Flutterhooves," He shoots Julian a quick glance, who nods approvingly, and he proceeds with moving the toy to the open spot at the end of table, and then going to take his own seat beside Julian. He shuffles in as much as possible, awkwardly crossing his legs and trying to keep his knees from tucking under the table, "There we are. This is... very lovely." He compliments as he settles into a somewhat-comfortable position.

"Very lovely," Julian agrees, looking at Molly, "You've done a wonderful job, Princess Molly."

Molly gives Julian a pleased little smile. "Thank you!" She squeaks. Then she suddenly perks up again, like she's heard something, "Oh! I have to go get the tea. It's done sleeping." She stands and, tucking up her skirts like a proper lady, she hurries off to go and... wake the tea, apparently.

"Steeping," Julian offers, as Garak gives him a confused look, "She means steeping."

Garak nods. That doesn't explain... anything else that's going on here. "Tea party?" He asks. Again.

"An old Earth game, of sorts," Julian replies, "Human children commonly pretend to hold tea parties, usually with their parents and their toys involved. Hence," He gestures around the table with his free hand, "All this."

"I see," Garak says, "And I was invited, why...?"

Julian suddenly won't make eye contact. "Molly insisted," He tells him, quick and clearly not the entire truth, "And I just got Kirayoshi to sleep for the first time all day, so I wasn't about to risk Molly getting upset and waking him," He does look at Garak again, this time with a surprising amount of desperation for a man sitting in front of a plastic teacup, with a plastic crown on his head, "He cried for three. Hours. Garak." He stresses each word, exhaustion and desperation oozing from every syllable.

Garak knows of the infant's tendency towards tears. He has no idea how Kirayoshi manages to wail for so long, considering how tiny his lungs are, but he's been able to hear the shrieking from across the promenade.

"I'm not sure the Chief would approve my being here," He points out, "Or Mrs. O'Brien, for that matter."

"I won't tell if you won't. Just play along," Julian implores him, "That's all I ask, just play along. Molly is very sweet, and also very stubborn, and I promise you I'll make it up to you if you just humour her." He's very nearly begging.

Garak has seen Julian less desperate in active crisis situations. He sighs, making a point to be melodramatic about it. "Very well, my dear," He agrees, "I suppose I can find it in myself to play along with the whims of a little girl. What's the worst that could happen?"

"Don't invite that on yourself," Julian warns, "You haven't seen her when she's cranky."

At that moment, Molly returns. In her hands she carries a teapot that matches her teacups, and she proudly brings it to the table and sets it down in the middle of everything. "Ta-da!" She announces, prompting Julian to gently shush her again, "Tea time!" She does not heed his shushing, "Want the first cup, Uncle Julian?" She asks, holding the pot out to him.

Just like that, Julian is smiling again. "I would love the first cup, Princess Molly," He says. He holds the teacup up, and it's comically small in his hand, "Thank you very much."

Molly tips the teapot forward. No actual tea comes out. Still, she holds it like that for a few seconds, before she tips it back. "There you go!" She chirps. Right, pretend. She turns her smile on Garak, and offers him the pot, "Tea?"

Garak delicately picks the teacup up by the handle, which he has to pinch between two claws. "I would be honoured," He says, laying it on thick. Molly pours the pretend tea into his cup, and he gives her his most winning smile, "Thank you, Princess."

Molly goes around the table, pouring tea for the other guests. Garak resists the urge to comment on the teapot apparently being bottomless, and instead glances at Julian. "Uncle Julian?" He questions, an amused smirk curling on his face.

"I'm her favourite uncle." Julian grins.

"I'm sure," Garak murmurs. Molly retakes her seat, and he turns to her, "Ah, Princess, allow me," He reaches across the table to take the teapot, and he pours her her own cup. He's not sure of the exact method to this, but he counts to 3 and then stops, and she looks satisfied, "Could I ask you a question, Princess?" He asks as he sits back, setting the pot down.

"First, cheers," Molly insists. She thrusts her cup up into the air, and Julian raises his, so Garak follows their lead. They clink their little teacups together- literally, "Clink!" She says.

"Clink." Julian echoes.

"Clink," Garak adds. Then Molly sips, and so does Julian, so he follows. When that's done, he inquires, "May I ask my question now?" Molly nods, and he smiles, "Ah, thank you. Yes, my question is, what made you invite me to the tea party, Princess Molly?"

Molly sets her teacup down. "For Uncle Julian." She replies.

Garak can see Julian looking pointedly away from him in his peripheral. "I see," He says, "And why was I invited for Uncle Julian?" He follows up.

"Cause you're married." Molly replies, like it's the most obvious thing in the Quadrant.

Julian chokes on nothing. Garak's eyes widen. "Married?" He echoes. He turns to Julian, who's gone a truly impressive shade of red, right up to the tips of his ears, "Married?" He repeats.

"Yeah!" Molly says, apparently an expert on the subject, "That's what grown-ups do when they're in love! Like my mommy and daddy. You," She points at Garak, "And Uncle Julian are in love, so you're married."

"She's 5." Julian hisses under his breath, just loud enough for Garak to hear.

Garak needs to take a deep breath. He's not often truly caught off guard, but that... he feels like he's just been knocked flat on his back. Alright. Married. He can go along with that. He's certainly gone along with far worse things.

Suddenly he understands Julian's exhaustion and desperation a few moments prior.

"Well, it was... very polite of you to invite me, Princess," He manages to get out, trying to slot back into his role here, "It's nice to spend time with my... husband." That makes Julian turn even redder. He looks like he's about to start glowing.

"Mommy and daddy wanted together-time today," Molly tells him, looking oh-so-serious for a girl of 5 years old, "So you and Uncle Julian probably want together-time, too. That's what married grown ups want." She explains.

Garak can't help but chuckle. "You're very wise," He says. Because she isn't... wrong. When it comes to him and Julian, at least, "I did want together-time with Uncle Julian today." He admits. They were supposed to see each other for lunch today, but then Julian got called away to babysit the O'Brien children, so it was to be rescheduled. And, soft as it makes him, those lunches are truly about... the only thing he looks forward to, so, yes. He did want together-time, as she put it, with Julian.

Molly glances at Julian, and then she leans over the table. "He did, too," She whispers, except it's very loud, and Julian can obviously hear her, "He told me he missed your lunchtime."

Garak glances at Julian, who's again very much not looking at him. He can't help but melt, just a bit, just enough to soften up. "Did he now?" He hums, "Well, that's alright. We have this tea party, don't we?" He puts his hand on the table, holding it out to Julian.

Julian looks at his hand. Then looks up at him, all round eyes and surprise. And then he smiles, all warm and affectionate. "That we do." He says, taking Garak's hand and giving it a squeeze.

"Ew," Molly pulls a face, "You're being gross like mommy and daddy."

Julian snorts a laugh. Garak chuckles. They let go of their hands and go back to their teacups, following Molly's lead as she sips at air again. Then she insists on refilling their cups, and they sit back and let her.

Julian's hand finds his on the floor. Garak takes it, brushes his thumb over Julian's knuckles. They exchange a private look, a small smile, Julian still red in the cheeks.

Maybe this isn't such a bad way to spend an afternoon, after all.

[blasphamoustraitors]

Ive come to the realization that me wanting to make a frog costume just means im going to be an animal crossing character

[one-boring-person]

You forced this upon yourself😂 you forced this rambo simp.(and i dont mind)

Okay this may not be as good! But! Im giving you the liberty to take it where you want!(because i love your little details and how you express the feeling in your writing i- AH! Its great. I cant say it enough, it’s great. I mean it.)

How about Rambo finally getting enough courage to show The rancher around the tunnels, in a date sort of way!(they don’t know thats actually where he lives. Aka that photo i showed you before.) i really saw how the rancher was so happy to have him at their house, I’d love to see rambos side of scheduling a house tour and date type deal!! Maybe him even sitting and showing the rancher through all his old photos, and them just in awe because wow. He’s so much cooler than they even thought! He just so nervous and surprised seeing them so interested in him after all this time alone, and them just- in awe of him.

( i also really think it would be funny seeing rambo go through his friends house and seeing-“why the hell you have so many plants???” And just. Adorable assassin living with a wholesome and loving hardworking s/o)

Ah! Im sorry if that’s not as good!! But hey, you feel free to describe their antics and relationship as you will!!

I think I may have run a bit with this, but I hope you like it regardless!😊💛

I've Got Your Back, You've Got Mine.

John Rambo (Rambo IV/V) x reader

Warnings: mention of death, mention of war, mention of injury, mention of PTSD, mention of violence, (possible flash warning for gif?)

Masterlist

The heavy knock on the door surprises me where I'm sitting, the sharp sound snapping me from my thoughts. Looking over at it from my position at the table, I frown and set down my spoon, standing to go answer, unsure of who it is: I'm not expecting anyone today. Colt looks up from his place on the floor, the dog just as curious as I am as to whom it may be, though he doesn't bark, so it must be someone we know. He watches me as I cross the room, going straight to the door.

Opening it, I'm somewhat surprised to see my neighbour, John, standing there, a tentative smile on his face as he looks me over appreciatively, his gaze drawing a blush to my face. 

"Mornin' (Y/n)." He greets, rough voice friendly as he waits for me to let him in.

"Morning John." I smile back, delighted to see him, "What can I do for you?"

I step back, waiting for him to enter, which he does so with a nod of thanks.

"Since when have I needed a reason to see you?" The veteran chuckles, the sound reverberating within me, my brain subconsciously storing the action away for later recall. Gently, John moves into my space, one hand coming to lightly rest on my hips as the other cups my face, drawing me in for a slow kiss. 

Kissing back, I feel a glow of happiness flare up in me at this contact: he's never really one to initiate touch like this, so it's a whole lot more intimate when he does. Relaxed, I loosely wrap my arms around his neck, languidly caressing his dark hair as our lips move together. 

Being the killjoy he often loves to be, Colt pushes in between us, nosing at John's leg, tail wagging enthusiastically as he recognises the familiar man, the dog as fond of his company as I am. Chuckling, John and I pull apart, looking down at the large canine between us, the dark eyes staring up at us imploring us to pay attention to him. Still smiling, John lowers a hand to scratch Colt's head, ruffling his floppy ears a little as the dog instantly allows his mouth to hang open, tongue lolling in content.

"Hey, Colt." The veteran greets, biting back a laugh as the dog pushes me out of the way, nudging at John's stomach.

"He never gets that excited to see me." I complain jokingly, standing back to watch the two interact, a smile playing at my lips.

"Sure he does." John replies, eyes fixing on mine with an expression of fondness, one that had me weak at the knees.

"He really doesn't, he just sits in the corner and whines at me until I feed him. Isn't that right?" I address the dog himself, giving him a light slap on the rear, his ridiculous height meaning I can quite easily reach it, "Anyhow, did you need something? Or did you just come here to kiss me? I can't say I'll complain if that's the case."

Cheekily, I wink at the veteran, leaning back against a nearby counter.

"As nice as that sounds, it's not the reason I came by." He chuckles, blushing lightly, "Though that does sound good."

Grinning, I nod my agreement, only now taking in his body language: he's nervous. His hands fidget, rubbing his fingers over scars and lines on his palms, and he shifts from foot to foot every now and then, small tells he's never quite managed to hide from me.

"Is something up?" I ask him, slightly more serious this time, unnerved by his discomfort.

"No, no, not at all. I, err, well, I just wanted to ask you something." He rubs the back of his neck, head tilted to the side as he regards me, dark eyes fixed on mine.

"Ok, go for it." I prompt him, curiosity sparking my interest.

"Well, do you wanna come to mine? I mean properly, like in the house." John cocks his head to the side, lowering his arm again.

Blinking, I feel shock flood my system, before it turns to unbelievable happiness that he's trusting me enough to come into his private space. Initially, I can't find the right words, somehow struggling to respond, until I find my tongue again.

"I would love to, John." I agree, features lighting up as my mood brightens, "There's nothing I've really got to do today except train up one of the younger horses, so I've got as long as you want after that."

"Great. Is four o'clock alright?" The veteran smiles broadly, though he still looks somewhat nervous.

"Yeah, should be. I'll be there." I promise him, taking up my Stetson from the table as I briefly turn away to put away the plate I was using, having lost my appetite in my sudden excitement.

"I'll get it tidy." He says, looking around the room again, "I'll never understand why you have so many plants in your house. It's like a damn jungle."

At his comment, I laugh loudly, glancing around at the variety of different houseplants I have placed on various shelves, the greenery practically covering every available surface. 

"Because it's way too dry to grow anything like this outside all the time. Anyway, they look nice." I shrug, calling Colt to my side as I follow John from the house, grabbing my jacket from the hook as I pass.

"But why so many?" 

Once again, I shrug, following him over to a nearby post, where he's hitched Bandit, the horse I gave him a few months ago. The buckskin stallion paws at the ground, his pale coat looking as clean as ever even as he noses at the dust, the dark colouring around his eyes (the reason for his name) and legs standing out much more in the bright sun. As we approach, he looks up, snorting in greeting.

"He's looking good." I acknowledge, admiring the strong stallion appreciatively - I had reared Bandit from a foal, before I had given him to the veteran as a gift four months ago, hoping it will help him to grow his own ranch. My plan had worked, and John now has four horses, including Bandit, as well as a couple of other animals, such as a cow, a pig and five chickens. I'd sold him a couple of goats as well, but we soon found out that John and goats just didn't get along. At all.

"Yeah, he's doing well, too. Takes the training very well, too." John runs a hand through the stallion's dark mane, untying the reins.

"That's good. Reckon he'll be ready for a competition soon?" 

"Should be." 

Snorting again, Bandit pulls at the reins, clearly eager to get going, especially as Colt moves up to sniff at the horse's back legs. I quickly whistle him over, knowing Bandit has always been shifty around the dog.

"I'll see you at four then." I finally say, unwilling to say goodbye, even if it is only for a few hours.

"Yeah, see you then." John smiles, leaning in to kiss me again, keeping it brief this time, leaving me wishing for more, as he always does.

"See ya." I grin, watching him climb into the saddle, still somehow fluid in doing so despite his age. 

Gathering the reins in hand, John adjusts himself in the saddle, before he smiles down at me again as he gently urges Bandit into motion. Obediently, the stallion moves into a swift trot, which turns into a faster canter as the two move off down the driveway, heading towards the split in the fence separating our land. I watch as they go, still finding myself enraptured by the sight of the muscular man sat astride the horse, Colt eventually snapping me from my mind as he barks at me. Shaking my head, I follow him towards the stable.

Hours later, having showered and cleaned up, I feel a sense of relief go through me as I hoist myself into the saddle secured into place on Leo's back. It's relaxing, the stallion beneath me more relaxed than the youngster I've been trying to train all day: she never gave me a break. Seemingly sensing this, as he always does, Leo flicks his ears back and nickers softly, very lightly pawing the ground as I give him a pat on the neck, glad to have a more reliable horse taking me where I need to be.

Tilting back my Stetson, I take the reins in hand and ease the stallion into a trot, intending to let him pick up his own pace, my trust in this horse far greater than in the mare from before. Obediently, Leo moves into the correct gait, the two of us moving as if as one, years of riding together having made it easy for us to become in tune with each other. Together, we start off down the road towards John's ranch, the new path we've created beaten and well-used, allowing for relatively easy riding. Leo's hooves pound the dry ground rhythmically, my hips moving in time with his every stride, the relaxing movement helping to calm the nerves that have sprung up inside me.

A part of me is still unconvinced about going into John's home. Yes, I had helped him rebuild it and had seen very little of the inside rooms, but it still feels as if I'm intruding upon the veteran's safe space, his reprieve from the cruelty of the world he lives in. Something about that doesn't sit right with me, but I tell myself it's John's decision to make, not mine, so I should trust him, which I do, wholeheartedly. 

I'm still torn by the time I reach the main house, where John is already sat waiting for me in his rocking chair, dark eyes fixed on me as I approach. Lifting a hand to him, I smile and slow Leo to a halt, praising the horse as I climb down, the gray stallion nosing affectionately at me. Swiftly, I tie him to a nearby post, only to stop when John calls out to me.

"Put him in the stable for the night." He instructs me, gesturing for me to follow him as I try to fight back the sudden onslaught of racing thoughts at his implications: he wants me to stay the night?

"Sure, thanks." I smile back at him, walking after him with Leo in tow.

"Don't worry about it. It's not fair on him if he has to stay out all night." John waves me off with a short grin, "How'd training go?"

I groan.

"Not great. That horse has it in for me, I swear." I complain, rubbing at my arm, remembering the moment I got the new bruise forming there.

"Oh yeah?" He muses, looking amused.

"Yeah. She threw me off eight times!"

"Eight times? Wow, must be a new record." The veteran jokes, something that stirs up the familiar fondness inside me at his more personable behaviour.

"I reckon so. Painful one to set, though, I'll tell you." I remark, smiling broadly as we enter the stable, where I quickly house Leo next to Bandit, removing his tack and other gear.

"Must be." John watches me work, leaning against the door to the large building, muscular arms crossed over an equally muscular chest. Turning back to him, I have to stop and admire the bulging of his biceps as his hands grip his forearms, the veins I've come to love laying out a pattern on the tanned limbs. Everytime I see them, I imagine his strong arms wrapped around me, holding me safe and secure against his solid body, wishing I could feel his hands splayed against me more often.

"Like what you see?" John interrupts my thoughts, voice teasing as he lifts an eyebrow at me, almost smirking at me.

Blushing furiously, I avert my gaze, lifting a hand to gently tap the brim of my Stetson out of my vision.

"You know I do." I laugh nervously, before I look back up at him, "Anyway, since when do you use pickup lines?"

"Since I figured out they get you all flustered." His playful tone is new to me, though it's gone almost as soon as I see it, his guarded expression falling back into place as he returns within himself, probably thinking he overstepped some invisible boundary.

I still can't help stammering for a response, his gruff tone awakening something within me.

"Heh, I guess you're right." I stutter, going over to him.

Nodding, he keeps his expression straight, leading me out back to the house, where he quickly welcomes me inside.

"I tried to tidy it as much as possible, but it's still a bit messy." The veteran apologises, observing the interior of his home critically, even as I do so in awe.

The rooms, from what I can see, are mostly filled with sparse furniture, a few chairs here and there, an old sofa, a couple of vanities and dressers, with a mantlepiece in most, if not all, of them. He hasn't used much colour, but what he has used is tasteful and works well with the overall appearance. The walls, however, are what really draw me into the place.

They are littered with photographs and memorabilia, frames and objects cleaned and polished so they shine brightly in the afternoon sun, many smiling faces visible in them. Curious, I go over to one wall, looking over the array of pictures, which I now recognise to be images of John and his friends from the years he spent here. Amongst them is a creased black and white photo of a young John sat astride a horse not unlike Bandit, a broad grin on the boy's face as he stares at the camera from under a mop of thick black hair. I can feel a small smile creep onto my face at the sight of the veteran looking so happy and carefree, something I've not seen very much of at all in my time around him.

"That was my first horse, Hector. I had him until I left for the army." John says from behind me, sounding somewhat quiet, eyes softened from nostalgia as he stares at the picture along with me, "I loved him a lot, but my father always said he wasn't good enough."

His words hang in the air as I stay speechless, listening intently to what he's saying to me: it's the first I'm hearing about his life before he came here again.

"What happened to him? Hector, I mean." I ask him quietly, tearing my eyes away to look up at John.

The veteran shrugs, appearing somewhat remorseful.

"I'll never know, but I reckon my father sold him as soon as I was gone."

"Oh." I frown, glancing back at the photograph.

"The horse was getting old by that time, though. He probably wasn't much use." John chuckles wryly, moving away towards the stairs nearby, "Do you want to see upstairs?"

"Yeah, sure." I nod, following him as he ascends to the second floor, which I now see consists of three different rooms.

He takes me to the farthest, opening the door to reveal an old study, which looks as if it hasn't been used in a good few years.

"This was my father's study, where he did all his business. I was never allowed in here as a kid." John sweeps his arm around the room, staying by the threshold, as if abiding by a rule that no longer exists, "Not that I go in here that much as an adult."

I look around, finding the neat area interesting: images of a young John hovering by the door, waiting for his father to finish business entering my head.

"It's nice, I like it." I remark, turning to find him smiling very slightly at me.

"It's the only room in the house that's exactly as it used to be. I haven't had time to do up the others properly." John says, leaving the study and going back down the hall, where he opens the other two doors to reveal a bathroom and an empty room.

A dull curiosity flares up within me as I realise one thing about the top floor, but I easily find a solution to it, following John back down the stairs. As we go, however, I realise that my assumption is wrong, as the only other rooms down here are missing the one thing I'd expect in any house.

"Where do you sleep? I haven't seen a bed or anything anywhere." I ask him, cocking my head to the side as he takes me to one final door.

"I'm gonna show you." He smiles at me, before he opens the door.

I blink as I see the dark steps descending into the ground, unease biting at my throat as I flash John a hesitant look. A cool draft wafts up from the black depth, but John only chuckles and moves down into the space below, gesturing for me to follow.

"It's perfectly safe, don't worry." He calls to me, a light flickering on as he reaches the bottom of the steps, illuminating the path to me.

Swallowing, I gingerly step down the stairs, emerging into a tunnel of sorts, my curiosity piqued as I take in the chiselled walls around me, the rock cast in an odd light from the naked bulbs positioned along the length of the cavern. Struts of wood hold the ceiling steady, wiring hanging off of them in places where he's had to hastily put it all together. John watches as I take in the passage, a thoughtful look in place on his face.

"What is this place?" I wonder aloud, still taken aback by the oddity of having a tunnel beneath the house that stretches off in both directions.

"This is my safe space." The veteran informs me, urging me along with him as we go further into the tunnel, walking together for a minute before we emerge out into a larger room of sorts, which is well lit. 

My eyes widen as I realise exactly what he means.

The room acts as his bedroom and bathroom, and also has space to sit and relax, the whole area having a homely feel to it. What was missing in the rooms in the house can be found down here, including more photographs, though these ones seem different to the others. They adorn the walls, all except one, which is decorated with a variety of weapons, both guns and knives. Going over to it, I look over the rifles and shotguns hooked onto the wall, struck speechless as I then turn my attention to a machete, the blade honed but chipped from use, seemingly out of place as it hangs beside another, smaller hunting knife. 

Moving on, I regard the photographs, only now realising that they're military pictures, many of them containing images of a youthful John in fatigues and uniform. A smile creeps back onto my lips as I feel my eyes land on a particular image of a group of men, where I can see John standing amongst them, a triumphant grin on his face, long locks of dark hair held back by a strip of fabric around his head. The others also smile, though there's something bittersweet about the inscription at the corner of the photo: Baker Team, Vietnam. As I look past the other pictures, I notice that the team slowly dwindles, beaming faces becoming drawn and solemn, eventually just leaving two people behind. Beneath this image is another inscription: Baker Team Survivors.

"That was my team in 'Nam." John says suddenly, voice husky as he remembers the friends he had, "None of them made it back. Not really."

Eyes wide, I look back at him, taking in the distant look in his own eyes, the barely concealed grief still raw in his expression as he stares at the photographs. Noticing my gaze, John gestures for me to come sit on the edge of his bed with him, the veteran pulling another photograph from it's place on his bedside table. Doing so, I make sure I'm not touching him, but am close enough to reassure him, waiting patiently for him to start talking of his own accord, knowing that this is a sensitive subject for him.

After a moment, he starts, his voice low as he pulls me into his stories, taking me through suffocating jungles and blistering heats, through recon and rescue missions, through bloody gunfights and hellfire,  through hours spent in torturous situations. He puts me in his shoes as he loses every single member of his team to the gruesome fight he should never have fought, the harrowing grief and pain of letting go of a comrade, someone who's supposed to be by your side for as long as the two of you can stay alive, laid bare for me to see and experience. And even as he moves on, back to familiar territory in the States, the fight never leaves him.

Facing harassment in what should be his safety and security, I can feel every bit of betrayal, of anger and grief that he felt as he is let down by his own country time after time, used again and again by the authorities to do their dirty work, only to be cast aside when it doesn't go their way, the old catchphrase he once lived by, "I've got your back, you've got mine" completely meaningless in this hollow life. His disgust in humanity is plain to me as he outlines his most recent forays into warfare, where the rage he felt is once again transferred to me, and I experience the violent need to take out the parasites in the world that destroy anything good that he did. It's as if I'm there with him, through everything, his description and memories so vivid they chill me to the core, keeping me hooked on his every word.

After a long while, he eventually trails off, and I realise there's a tear rolling down his cheek, his body shaking a little as he holds himself back. My heart breaking, I have to fight the urge to reach out and pull him into an embrace, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. I place my hand on his shoulder instead, rubbing the tight muscles soothingly until he looks up at me with the most heart-rending gaze I've ever seen in my life. At that point, my resolve breaks.

Carefully, I lean in and wrap my arms around his shoulders, pulling the veteran towards me. He goes willingly, sobs wracking his body as he wraps his own hands around me, burying his face into my neck, tears flowing freely now as he lets himself go, each pained sound agonising to hear. Tightening my grip, I lay back onto the bed, allowing him to press his body around me, holding me against his muscular form as I rub his back, whispering soothing things to him as his breathing starts to calm a little. It takes time, but eventually he starts to relax, body going limp as he lays in my arms, his larger form awkwardly wrapped around mine as he depresses his face into the crook of my neck.

I barely hear his broken voice as he whispers to me.

"Thank you." 

Breathing in his familiar scent, I just mould myself closer, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead as he does the same to my neck.

"I'm here for you, John. I'm here, and I'll never leave. Not as long as I live, I promise."

[the-kipsabian]

Also sparkleharper and/or spaceharper

sparkleharper ~

Who offers their jacket when the other is cold?jared. this smol thing on his side cant be cold, nope he wont allow. his sparkles will keep him warm lol

Who giggles uncontrollably when the other playfully picks them up?idk how many times i can repeat myself, but mads will just. yell. and she cant pick up jared so yep

Who compliments the other in front of everyone?jareddddd. mostly cause thats just what he does tbh. and mads doesnt need to say anything to compliment him in front of everybody tbh, everyone already knows how fantastic the school senpai is lol

Who is more likely to tell the other a pun and what is the other’s reaction to the pun?i think in this case the puns fall on mads to deliver? being the courteous gentleman that he is, jared laughs. pretty much every time, not even depending whether he gets it or not tbh

When one of them has a bad day, what does the other do to help cheer them up?jared puts up a “fashion show” for mads, completed with a photoshoot session of goofy outfits and expressions and googly eyes. when jared needs to distress, mads sits him down, asks him to ramble to her about any recent d&d games and help him plot some really stupid and lighthearted side quests while having a relaxing cup of tea and some kit made cookies

If they got to pick what one another wears for a day, what would one another wear?blue. lots of blue. mads wants jared to wear his blue shirt (”its pretty and its soft and you look so nice in it”) and jared insist she wears one of his shirts (”cause its adorable, they are so big on you”) and her favorite pair of blue jeans. i dont think i need to say why anymore at this point lol

Who introduces their partner to their family first? How does it go?for this, i wanna say mads? jared obviously isnt too keen on introducing anyone to his family, and while mads is very hesitant about this, especially since this is a super well-behaved boy its. gonna get very awkward considering what kind of a bunch of normies my family is mmmm. but jared is a good boio underneath all that rich senpai stuff, so it would probably go very well in the end, actually

In a coffee shop AU, who would be the coffee shop employee and who would be the customer?jared is too pretty to work as a coffee shop employee sssooo hes the customer, and mads is the daydreaming waitress woo

When they sit side by side, do they touch one another? For example, does one person has their arm around the other, do they sit holding hands, or linked arms, ECT.jared definitely. has at least one arm flung around her at like all times. if he needs to be more discreet in like a more public place or whatnot, he holds her hand under the table

What is a small thing that one another does to make their partner happy?jared definitely tries to befriend the stray cats tbh. mads takes his encouragement about herself to heart and whenever jared is feeling down or just generally missing her, she send him little video messages to cheer him on and selfies she wouldnt sent to anyone else cause jared keeps saying he loves seeing her and that makes him happy so dang it shes gonna push past her comfort zone to be more comfortable with herself and make him happy

What would they do to celebrate their one year anniversary?jared would arrange something very elaborate tbh. take her to dinner, possibly see a movie, go to the arcade, win her everything she wants, walks in the moonlight.. literally anything that he can think of, and he would fit it into either one day or over the weekend, if mads seems like shes gonna get exhausted by it

When did they know that loved each other, and when did they first tell each other that they loved one another?i feel like they both had like. hard time actually recognizing when it was love tbh? like yeah mads first falls for him cause of aesthetic reasons, and jared is playing the senpai card of loving every girl, so you cant really tell on the outside when its actually love or when either of them develop like real feelings, but at some point it just. kinda becomes obvious that oh shit i. love this person?? and yeah its jared who definitely says it first tho. its like an offhand remark at first and mads is like ‘what did you say’ and jared repeats it and realizes that oh heck i. actually do mean this??

Who likes to give the other hugs from behind followed by a kiss?jared does this as a combo, mads sneaks in little kisses when hes piggybacking her around tbh

Who would make a playlist for the other person? What would be featured on the playlist?i feel like mads would do that? jared is more about more expensive presents, while mads cant really afford that so she has to pull something selfmade together and yeah, that happens. its mostly like ambient sounds and background music tbh, stuff she thinks will inspire him and what he could use for d&d games and maybe some more upbeat stuff for the fashion shows and for better days

Who would bring their partner on a romantic date under the stars?they could both do this tbh? mads wants to surprise him so she arranges a little cuddling under a blanket while stargazing moment, and jared just does this a lot in general

~~~~~~~~

spaceharper ~

Who offers their jacket when the other is cold?jeff. mom friend habits kick in and they kick in hard. this has also probably been established somewhere in the canon of this route anyways lol

Who giggles uncontrollably when the other playfully picks them up?im gonna keep repeating myself but mads. except that she yells. put her down yall pls

Who compliments the other in front of everyone?mmm i wanna say jeff? but its like. really soft things and its done in almost unnoticeable fashion, like its just really offhand comments like “oh shes so sweet” etc. unless its something that she has given him a permission to share about her writing. then jeff will lose his freaking mind cause eveRYONE NEEDS TO SEE THIS THING MY GF DID OMG

Who is more likely to tell the other a pun and what is the other’s reaction to the pun?i’d imagine jeff is more of a pun man out of these two. he does it very casually tho, like most of the time its not on purpose or he doesnt put much emphasis on it, so most of the time mads just misses it. if she gets it tho, she will most likely laugh

When one of them has a bad day, what does the other do to help cheer them up?jeff arranges some cuddle time, with the help of kit builds a blanket fort, gets some scented candles, and they just cuddle up with some strays and play animal intersection. if its jeff that needs destressing, mads will literally cling onto him until he sits down and just takes it easy - which is her cue to throw a blanket on him, get jeff a cup of tea and just sit down and talk about random nonsense with him to make sure he takes a break from everything

If they got to pick what one another wears for a day, what would one another wear?onesies all day every day. jeff in a hamster onesie, and mads in a fox one

Who introduces their partner to their family first? How does it go?jefffffff. i think ive crossed this topic enough times by now tbh lol

In a coffee shop AU, who would be the coffee shop employee and who would be the customer?mmmm i’d say jeff is the customer? i could see him working in a coffee shop tho, but this pair feels better to me with mads behind the counter tho

When they sit side by side, do they touch one another? For example, does one person has their arm around the other, do they sit holding hands, or linked arms, ECT.jeff does what mads feels comfortable at the moment. usually its just limited to hand holding, tho if they are in relax mode, like playing games and mads doesnt wanna be too cuddled up but still wants to be close enough to jeff, there will at least be her legs in his lap

What is a small thing that one another does to make their partner happy?jeff brings sweets and stray cats. hes also always available for cuddles and advice when needed. mads sends him stupid pictures of her with googly eyes and gets him hamster related gifts cause they made her think of him

What would they do to celebrate their one year anniversary?STARGAZING WITH CANDLE LIGHT PICNIC NEXT QUESTION

When did they know that loved each other, and when did they first tell each other that they loved one another?jeff helps her through some rough times and shes like. oh heck i like this boi like. LIKE him. oh dear goodness me what do. jeff comes somewhere afterwards as they spend more time together and thats where the whole ‘you wanna join hidden club’ thing comes along and only after that jeff has it in him to actually tell her how she feels mmmmalso it would. probably actually be mads who tells him first? jeff has hard time opening up about his feelings even if they are there, so it falls on her to confess about it first yay

Who likes to give the other hugs from behind followed by a kiss?both honestly? tho jeff needs to be sitting down for this lol, but yeah they both do it. its just a cute little way to show the other that hey im glad youre here

Who would make a playlist for the other person? What would be featured on the playlist?probably both? with both asking help from luke cause oh my god wHAT DO

Who would bring their partner on a romantic date under the stars?mads? its one of those nights when jeff really needs to destress and she knows how much he likes space and stars and stuff so she basically drags him out to just lay on the grass and stare up at the sky like yes pls jeff tell me about your plan to shoot hamsters into space again tho i mean when you put it like that its not like. super romantic pfff but you know it doesnt need to be romantic as long as it makes him happy

[witchykitchenconjureman-blog]

As i often am, that morning i was feeling equal parts martha stewart and marie leveau. In addition to being those two ladies, im also always the dude everybody LOVES to make halloween costumes with, since i have craploads of little knick knacks, trinkets, and odds and ends sitting around for years, waiting for a purpose. And that, folks, is what voodoo is all about: collecting simple things from around your world, creatively making your purpose their purpose, and sending their magick off to do what it does how it sees fit. Who knew all this shit around my house was a link to the universe?                  {{{{{{MIND BLOWN}}}}}} Before i digress further, back to my point..... That day being saturday, and me being a 35 yr old gay guy with a cat and an injured knee, I had an urgent need to do something exciting, but with some meaning....and almost always with glitter. This is why we craft. Both artsy-crafters and witchy-crafters; we're just lonely creative geniuses with sewing kits and glue guns and mason jars and quill pens and mortars and pestles. We're like pioneer folk, but gothier and with bluetooth capability. And, usually, we're kinda the shit. Again, it being a saturday, and with all the voodoo ive been studying, i immediately think "hmm, saturday...BARON SATURDAY!" A LITTLE BACKGROUND INFO... The baron i most often speak of is Baron Samedi (translated: "Baron Saturday"), but there are several Baron incarnations (LaCroix, Cimetiere, etc.) The barons belong to a group of loa called the ghede. In essence, the ghede are cemetery/death-related spirits, but they live right here among us in our world, and they are no angels.  They drink, they smoke, they cuss, they fuck, the are quite obscene at times. So basically, theyre that hot mess Laura from yr cousins wedding, right? Nope. They're better. Know why? Cuz the barons aint all doom and gloom. They can actually be helpful, albeit obnoxious  guardians who can sometimes help in dire situations. They also hold a very important place in the voodoo/hoodoo pantheon, because they are in charge of our exit from this life, and can help when things hang in the balance. Petition them carefully and dont expect special treatment...but if u offer some candy and alcohol, u just may luck out (still not Laura, i swear!) The ghede dance the banda, and they represent death and fertility. They each have a unique and fascinating story to tell.  Baron samedi is probably the most famous of the ghede, and his wife Maman Brigitte also plays a prominent role in their graveyard community. The baron is revered by new orleans  natives and tourists alike. In haiti to this day, the first male grave in a cemetery is dedicated to him, and the first female plot to his wife Brigitte. The Baron along with the rest of the ghede are celebrated on November 2nd (All Souls Day, Day of the Dead). The dark, skeleton-like images of the ghede have got a very halloween-y appeal for many, understandably. But they also have a significant religious, cultural, and practical appeal for like bazillions of people (according to the university of vague and exaggerated facts.com......ok, lets just say alot of people then). From africa, haiti, cuba, throughout the caribbean and south america.... and here in the states, specifically in louisiana. Each place has evolved its own traditions and spin on the original african Voudon tradition. But his tophat! His glasses missing one lens! His funerary style! His skull face!....Laura? Nope the unmistakable baron samedi! The loa are fascinating to learn about. Personally i find that, through creating items with the powers and symbols of a certain loa in mind, i can make a connection to them. I begin to understand them. I feel their vibe (like dig it man....no, but seriously). Do i believe a mystical being is possessing me in a supernatural sense when i serve the loas? No. I do however feel as if i invoke certain energies from the idea of them. They are powerful archetypes associated with specific numbers, colors, plants, animals, objects, and acts. Putting a human-like name, face, and personality to these energies is the best way to get to know them and their inherent power. 

         A) Smudge my sacred space (my home)

         B) Welcome ghede spirits/energies (by fanning towards me, prefferably when the moon is waxing)

         C) Get rid of ghede spirits/energies (by fanning away from me, prefferably when the moon is waning).....

                Plus....on the other side is a sacred mirror, perfect for mirror spells! Personally, ive seen similar feather orisha fans (and mirrors, but not fan/mirror combo), and i havent seen any dedicated to the baron or the ghede, though im sure they exist. But who needs their fans?!! I poured this one out from my heart and soul and, because i made it, my magick comes built-in. All of the details are specific to the ghede or the baron specifically, and quite honestly it made me feel closer to understanding what makes Baron Samedi a powerful image i can channel into my own creative magick.

There was no plan.

No specific end goal.

No list of supplies.

Just grabbin' and gluin' and beading with fervor until painstakingly perfect. I wouldnt stop until it looked like something the baron himself had commissioned from me. Beautiful in an honest way, and beautiful in its ugly aspects as well. The ghede have a twisted beauty that is awe-inspiring....

As the process continued, the art transformed. I was, in a sense, "possessed" by creativity. Quickly i grabbed anything i could use that has an association with the baron and the ghede:

Numbers 9 and 13.

Colors purple, black, and red.

Skulls and skeletons.

Crosses.

Nails.

Every detail bringing the baron closer.

By the time i was finished,  the entire table was a full-on Baron Samedi conjure altar:

Offerings of rum, coffee, and cocoa. Cigars. An image of a rooster. Candles. Incense.

And my fan. OUR fan. Without the idea of him and his signature style and tastes, none of this very real magick would have occurred.

Even if he is a mythical being or a metaphor, his mere history and unique character make him someone who will continue to carry magickal associations when focused on.

After the work was complete, i blasted "No time to cry" by sisters of mercy, danced a bit in my legbrace, and fanned the incense throughout my apartment, feeling as if those feathers were part of my very own wings.

I left the baron his rum, coffee, cocoa, rooster, and half a cigar in a nice black box with a bow. I wouldn't have felt right removing them (even in the world of the dead, there are no take-backs).

Finally,  i hung the fan, mirror-side down, on the inside of my front door. This is where i can interact with it daily, and also where it can best fan in the good and fan out the bad.

Though i never petitioned the baron for anything (it felt more like a fun boozy brunch with a friend than conjure), i left the experience  feel honored and powerful. And with a dope piece of magickal art.

Its nice having friends in high places.

P.S.  tell hot mess Laura, Baron Samedi says hello.