#enough decorations to need an army to put it all up!

[thecrimsonvalley-creates]

~ Decorating the tree ~ Holiday scenes for mine and @nattravn-art's Rusty Lake characters. Tree decoration is very important: specially for someone like Murray who never had the luxury to celebrate the holidays when he was a child. And believe me, in our headcanon this is not the only tree in the Vanderboom house. There probably is a tree twice its size somewhere. Please do not ask exactly where or how Frank found it ;)

[luimagines]

👁️👄👁️

Think I’m reading that right that we can do three requests per person and I am really curious to see your take on Prince!Time and Prince!First please :) in a similar vein to the other prince imagines.

(Can you tell that’s my favourite of your work yet? ;))

Goodness- yes. After my own heart. And let's be real, they're kings.

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

Time

"Hello, my darling." A smooth baritone voice from behind was enough to send shivers down your spine.

You hoped your mask stayed in place. Otherwise the King of Kokiri would be able to see the sudden and obvious blush on your face. The masquerade ball he was hosting was lavish and delightful. Everyone was having a good time.

You cough to clear your throat and smile back in return. "How did you even know it was me?"

"Ah." King Link says your name. "An educated guess."

You bite your tongue, feeling your eyes go green with subtle envy. "So you greet all your guests in that manner?"

"When I'm about to ask someone of another, I fail to see why sweetening the delivery is considered uncouth." He responds easily, smirking slightly as bows towards you.

"...You have a request then, Your Majesty?" You have to keep your from smiling. The jerk is confident, handsome and suave and he knows it.

"Take a walk with me through the gardens." He holds out his hand towards you.

You're stunned. Surely this is beyond what's appropriate between a royal and a commoner. Your hesitance is palpable.

"Please?" He strains his voice slightly. His smile is tight as well.

Swallowing the spit in your mouth, you put your hand in his. "Are you alright, Your Majesty?"

"Quite fine." He says, almost flippantly. But his grip says otherwise.

Concerned, you allow him to guide through the party, out of the castle and into the extravagant garden. He finally stops in a gazebo, sitting down on a bench with a heavy sigh.

You stay standing. "Your Majesty?"

He looks up at you and smiles softly. "Sit with me."

"..."

He tugs at your hands.

"..."

King Link looks back up to you again with a pleading expression. "Please?"

You sit down. Awkwardly, but you sit.

You cough. "...Is this appropriate, King Link?"

"Do we need permission to take a break from the onslaught on the party goers on the inside?" He says tiredly. "....I have a headache."

Your heart sinks a bit. You would have thought that this was his way to relax but instead he seems more stressed than usual. You scoot a little closer to him. "I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Just sit with me." He whispers, letting his head hang back. "I like your company."

You feel your tongue stick to the roof of your tongue and nod. There's very little you can do. He's the king. How are you going to tell him no? Not to mention that he seems to defeated. You've never seen the proud man look so agonized.

His arm slips around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side. King Link whispers into your ear. "Have you been enjoying the party?"

Biting your lip, you nod again. "The decor is beautiful."

"Good." He smiles. "I was hoping you would."

"Oh?" The sound leaves you before you can stop it and his self satisfied smile grows wider.

"Yes. Because now we're here, together, and I get to have you on my side." He says with a growing smirk. "It would be better with you on my lap, but beggars cannot be choosers."

".....I beg your pardon?"

"I said what I said."

The King; begging to have you in his lap; what sort of dream world had you walked into?

First

You were trying to mind your own business in the kitchen, getting every set and ready for the main cooks for the lunch rush.

The solders were busy in the courtyard, bantering with each other and asserting dominance over one another for the heck of it. The king was among them somewhere. He was never far from his troops when there was an expedition like this.

The moments before departure were always frantic.

They had planned to go fight off Demise and last of his army. It was rumored that they could be anywhere from Death Mountain to Gerudo Dessert to the Wastelands. The world was already broken into smaller kingdoms as it was, not trusting their king to finish the job once and for all.

"The work isn't treating you too harshly, is it?" The man himself smirks as he enters the small kitchenette.

Your heart flutters just at the sight of him. His official attire was as regal as it was intimidating. This was a man with power and he knew it.

You drop your spoon and barely catch the curse that slips out of your mouth. "A thousand pardons, Your Grace."

"Nervous?" He chuckles, softly leaning his hip against the counter as he crosses his arms.

"This is the chance to change everything and unit the people once and for all." You say, rubbing your palms over your apron. "So much is riding on this."

"We will succeed." King Link leans over to you. A soft smile on his face. "Have a little faith in me. Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I trust you, Your Majesty." You blush with his close proximity. "It's the other side I find myself worrying about. They could be anywhere."

"And it's our job to find them and stop them." He says.

He kisses your cheek. "I will return. And we can focus on uniting our broken peoples. I just have to prove the critics wrong once and for all."

"By eliminating one the most evil forces known in the present world?" You whisper, stunned by his blatant affection towards someone of your lowly standard.

"That's the jist of it." King Link smiles and takes your hands in his, stopping them from their endless work. "Wait for me. Will you promise me that?"

You gulp. Without thinking, you squeeze his hands in return.

You don't speak King Link bite his lip in a rare expression of anxiety. "I will make things right. I promise you. Just wait for me."

"I will." You say softly. "I will wait for you."

He smiles and kisses your other cheek for good measure. "I like this color on you. It suits your eyes."

You look down in a futile attempt to hide your blush.

He chuckles and lets you go. "The troops will eat, then we depart."

"Be safe, Your Majesty." You find yourself bowing before him. "May the goddesses protect you."

[heyaheiya]

Will you write something about single dad bakugo falling in love with his child’s daycare teacher and her or them feeling the same 🥺🥺 -🦕

Sorry this took so long 😭😭

— — — — — —

Katsuki didn’t plan on ever getting into a relationship again; just him and his darling daughter was enough for him. That was until your stupid face somehow wormed its way into his mind.

His girl, Bakugou Chiyo, had been going to daycare for a few months now, but he’d never met you officially.

As much as Mitsuki loved having the little one over most weekdays, she didn’t have all the time in the world to spend babysitting. Eijirou encouraged Katsuki to enroll Chiyo and had recommended the daycare he used for his kids. Despite Katsuki’s hesitation towards it, Eijirou wouldn’t stop pestering the man to give it a chance. Something about ‘socialisation’ or whatever. Still, Katsuki put up a good fight.

“Fuck no, you know how disgusting other people’s kids are?? I don’t want Chiyo catching rabies from those things.”

“It’s expensive, I’m not exactly rich right now you know!”

“How do I know those teachers are qualified?”

“I’m sure Chiyo’s gonna hate it so what’s the bother.”

Unfortunately, Chiyo loved it, waking up early and being pretty self sufficient for a 4 and a half year old. She even packed her bag herself before bed so it was ready the next morning. Yes it was filled with just stuffed animals, and what.

“Baby, do you seriously need all of your friends? Why not pick one?”

“But they’ll be lonely :(“

Katsuki had to write out a whole schedule of which plush goes to daycare on which day. This rotation made sure the toys all got an equal amount of days.

Chiyo had been getting chattier in the recent days. Perhaps shitty hair was right about the socialisation bit… However, at dinner that night, a new name kept coming up.

“-and I was really sad. But then, Smiley came over and made it better!”

“Who’s ’Smiley’, princess?”

“Silly daddy, you see her every day at pickup!”

That was helpful. One out of the army of children he has no time to notice.

“Tell me about Smiley. She nice to you?”

“Mhm! Today she secretly gave me a chocolate from the teacher desk :D”

Alarms went off in Katsuki’s head. Chiyo’s friends with a thief. Chiyo’s gonna turn into a criminal. Chiyo’s gonna get arrested in the future. Chiyo needs to stop being friends with this ‘Smiley’ kid!!

“What??”

“Yeah. She told me not to tell anyone or she’ll get in trouble… But you won’t tell, right daddy l?”

The next day and drop off, Katsuki stomped in, all geared up in his hero suit, with a massive scowl decorating his face. Usually Mitsuki and Masaru drop the sweetheart off in the mornings, and by the end of a long work day, Katsuki doesn’t have time to chat. So other parents and teachers had basically never had a proper conversation with the man. That sure was gonna change.

“Who is this ‘Smiley’ kid??”

The receptionist looked befuddled.

“Oh no.. what did she do?”

“Nunya goddamn business. Point me to ‘er”

A shaken older hand pointed towards a young and surprisingly pretty face across the room. Must be the kids mother.

Katsuki stomped his way over to the woman. Either she shrunk back in fear of the pro hero, or his anger made him grow a few inches.

“Oi! Who do you think you are? Letting your kids behave like that? I swear, don’t give me some shi- stupid excuse!”

“I’m so sorry! Has someone been picking on Chi-Chi?”

“Chi-Chi? Seriously nicknaming a kid that doesn’t belong to you? That’s so fuc- freaking creepy.”

Chiyo yanked at her father’s pant leg a bit.

“Don’t yell at Smiley like that >:(“

Huh. Smiley.. is the teacher. Oh. A normal person would instantly apologise, but Katsuki? Pro hero Dynamight?

“What kind of relationship do you have with my daughter??”

He made you look like a child predator in front of your entire classroom, their parents, and your boss +coworkers..To say he felt bad was an understatement, the look of your terrified and embarrassed face scarring his mind for days.

Then, Chiyo came home balling her eyes out.

“Miss Smiley wasn’t there! She left me!”

Fuck. He knew what he had to do.

+81 XXX XXX XXX: Meet me at the restaurant down the street in 10.

Y/N: What the freak

When he saw you walk in, his jaw dropped. Unfortunately, you were beautiful, like the girls on the covers of magazines. However, your cute and almost squishable face quickly turned to a glare, eyes shooting lasers through his face.

It’s silent for a long time.

“This is the part where you apologise for getting me fired.”

“Right, I’m really sorry.”

…

“Look, I love Chiyo so so much. She’s a good kid and I’m sure you can tell she’s grown an attachment to me. If it’s because you or her mother feels jealous-“

“I’m single, the mother is out of the picture.”

“Oh so you just felt like being a dick?”

“Mind your language, Sensei. Wouldn’t want any kids to develop a fowl tongue.”

“I’m the reason Chiyo doesn’t have some of your key vocabulary. Watch it, Dynamight.”

“Oh I’m so scared😒”

You instantly stood up and grabbed your purse. “If you’re just here to rub salt in the wound, I think we’re done.” Fuck. Katsuki yanked you back down into your seat, eyes begging.

“No, fuck- I can’t stop fucking this up. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Wanna add another f-bomb to that statement?”

“Fuck off.”

“There we go.”

Katsuki groaned to himself, wanting to kill himself right there and then.

“I came here to apologise and fix things, but I’m stupid and can’t fucking communicate!”

“There are other swear words y’know?”

“Take me seriously.”

Your face softened slightly. You seriously thought he might cry in the middle of some random ramen restaurant.

“How do I fix this??”

“Well..”

You didn’t ask for too much really. Shopping spree (clothes, jewellery, cosmetics, skincare, shoes, hair pins, the works), official apology to everyone who was in the room at the time, get job back, and a bunch of tiramisu.

After all that, you were nothing but smiles. Then it clicked. Always smiling. Miss Smiley. Damn, that was a lazy nickname.

“Chiyo was the one who came up with ‘Miss Smiley’.”

It’s the best goddamn nickname anyone has ever made.

“Is there anything else you wanna add to that long ass list of yers???”

“Perchance..”

“Well??”

“A second date?”

— — — — — — — — — — —

This is not my best, I’m sorry 😭😭 hope you enjoyed! And requests are still open. Please, I need inspiration 🙏🙏

[capseycartwright]

see the lights, and hang the stockings

Eddie finds out that Buck has never ever had a Christmas stocking of his own. He's very determined to change that and share a few Diaz family traditions.

ao3 link

for week three of @winterofbuddie - holiday history.

Eddie knew he was inclined to go a little overboard at Christmastime. It was his favourite holiday, and he’d inadvertently (and very happily, might he add) made it Christopher’s favourite holiday too, their house always filled to the brim with decorations, Christmas music playing on a loop as soon as Thanksgiving was over, and he and Christopher agreed it was socially acceptable to dive right into the Christmas of it all.

Eddie loved Christmas, was the point, and even now, when Christopher was a relatively grumpy teenager, so did his son, Christopher happy to spend one of his precious Saturday evenings decorating the tree with Eddie, and Buck, instead of hanging out with his friends. 

Well, to a point. 

They’d gotten the tree decorated before Christopher had sneaked off to his bedroom, the chatter of his teenager calling his friends comforting background noise as he and Buck carried on the decorating duties. There had been a time where Eddie had worried he’d never have a house filled with the noise of Christopher simply living his life again, and so he was grateful for it - even when he’d hear Christopher up chatting far too late, his bedtime long past. 

Eddie only got to have his kid be a kid for so long, and he’d lived through a dark few months where he hadn’t gotten to have his son around at all - so, he could be forgiven for being a little lenient with him sometimes. 

“Mulled wine,” Buck hummed by way of explanation, pressing a mug into Eddie’s waiting hands. Eddie liked getting to do this, decorate, with Buck. Buck was his best friend in the whole world, and Eddie had done enough work unpicking a lifetime of repression to know that his feelings for Buck went a bit further than solely platonic, but even putting the whole, being in love with him, thing aside, Eddie just loved to spend time with the other man. 

“Thank you,” Eddie hummed, inhaling the comforting smell of spices, the aroma of mulled wine sinking into every inch of Eddie’s house. Christmas baking would join the party soon, he knew, because Buck was determined to make all of their nearest and dearest cookie boxes this year, like he’d seen on TikTok, and Eddie knew that his kitchen would be the stage of choice when Buck committed to executing his twelve-point plan for perfecting cookie gifts. 

“I think it needs more cardamon,” Buck admitted, a tiny frown furrowing the space between his eyebrows. Eddie sort of always wanted to kiss it. 

“It’s perfect,” Eddie disagreed, taking another sip of his drink. “You make the best mulled wine.”

An adorable flush appeared on Buck’s cheeks. Just another thing Eddie wanted to kiss. “You’re an unreliable reviewer,” he shook his head. “You like everything I make. I can never tell what’s really good, and what’s just okay, because you tell me everything is good.”

Eddie grinned, setting his mug on the fireplace. “That’s because I think everything is good,” he shrugged. It wasn’t a lie. Buck was a fantastic cook, and a great baker, and Eddie’s house was ground zero for many delicious experiments - the cheesy, twisty garlic bread Buck had made for their Italian themed family dinner had been a recent highlight. Buck’s sourdough starter even lived in Eddie’s fridge, not his own, for crying out loud. 

Pressing play on his carefully curated Christmas playlist, the sound of Wham! and Last Christmas filling the living room, Eddie passed Buck a snowglobe, his best friend indulging and setting it down on the coffee table, where it always lived. It was a cheap, silly thing that Eddie had bought the first Christmas he’d been out of the army, from the Dollar General, but it held so much sentimental memory now, Eddie didn’t have the heart to throw it out. Buck had bought them a beautiful snowglobe a few years previously, from a small business based on the Northern Californian coast, and that was pride of place on the fireplace, but the cheap one still had a home - different eras of Eddie’s life all coming together here, in LA, in the first place he’d really chosen for himself. 

“I love your decorations,” Buck hummed, careful fingers tracing the lettering on one of the tree decorations - it was an imprint of Christopher’s tiny baby hand, the black writing announcing to the world that it had been his very first Christmas. “They all have so much meaning.”

Eddie hummed. “You know me,” he joked. “I’m a sentimental old fool.” 

“No - it’s good. Great, even,” Buck paused, for a minute. “My parents' Christmas tree had a colour scheme, growing up. There were no sentimental ornaments - only these picture perfect gold and red baubles. I broke one - I think I was seven, or eight - and my mom yelled at me for so long that it made me cry. She said they didn’t make the ornaments anymore, so she’d have to change them all now, because of me. I didn’t think she had meant it, but the next year, she’d thrown out all the red and gold, and we had green and silver.”

Eddie knew that Buck had grown up with emotionally neglectful parents, but sometimes, in moments like this, when Buck made an admission about the reality of his childhood, it really struck him how bad it must have been for Buck, growing up - how lonely, and sad, he must have been. It was amazing, really, how Buck turned out to be so kind, and wonderful, given the house he grew up in. How Buck was still Buck, despite everything he’d been through. “Buck, I…”

“I’m sorry,” Buck shrugged it off, like he always did. Buck never wanted to burden other people, and sometimes it made Eddie want to yell, and scream -  it made him want to beg Buck to burden him with every thought and feeling he had. Eddie wanted to be there for him - he wanted to know what Buck had for breakfast every morning, and what he thought came in the afterlife, and everything in between. “I don’t know why I said that. Tonight’s meant to be happy, and here I am, making it all about me.”

read the rest on ao3

[temiizpalace]

☆┆ITS BEGINNING TO LOOK A LOT LIKE CHRISTMAS..

SUMMARY: it was time to set up for the holidays! what’s some of his favorite traditions to do with you?

CHARACTERS: all dorms (+ grim)

GENRE: fluff

WARNINGS: none

ROMANTIC HEADCANONS┆(GRIM & ORTHO ARE PLATONIC.)

reader gender is not mentioned, reader is yuu

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

decorating the tree

he likes decorating the tree with you. hanging up the shiny ornaments, covering the tree in the colorful lights, and hanging up the star at the end. at first, he thought decorating some pine tree was silly and unnecessary. but now, he sees the appeal. and he loves it. he asked you if you wanted to decorate another. which is why you both were outside in the snow, decorating the dead trees in front of ramshackle. you’re freezing your ass off, and he’s having the time of his life. hooray.

cater, jack, jade, vil, silver

gingerbread men + houses

the two of you stood in the kitchen, baking enough gingerbread men to make an army. while you two decorated the gingerbread men, he took some frosting and put it on your cheek. he laughs while you get him back, putting frosting on his nose. this puts a temporary pause in the decorating, and becomes an all out frosting war. nobody comes out unscathed. after awhile, you two began to make gingerbread houses. there wasn’t much frosting left, so both of your houses were falling apart. great job guys.

ace, trey, ruggie, floyd, jamil, lilia

wrapping presents

you two sat in the middle of ramshackle, wrapping presents side by side. wrapping paper, tape dispensers, and ribbons were everywhere. scattered across the already messy floor. even if your gift wrapping is really bad, he’s still going to compliment you. telling you he’s not the best even if it’s absolutely perfect. at first he wanted to bring the gift he got for you and wrap it right in front of you, just to show off how well he knows you. i know, i know, he’s impatient. but he made sure it looked FLAWLESS just for you 🫶🫶

riddle, deuce, azul, jade, jamil, sebek

all. all of the above

he’s ready. he’s going to make sure this christmas is is the holliest jolliest one you’ve ever had. oh, it’s not? then he’s pulling out the big guns. christmas inflatables!!1!1!!1!1

grim, rook, epel, ortho, malleus

chilling by the fireplace

christmas traditions are great and all, but he’d rather relax. and you both do just that. laying on the couch in ramshackle, surprised that the fireplace hasn’t burnt down your dorm yet. despite the shock, it really was quite relaxing. of course he wasn’t going to be a grinch and NOT do christmas traditions with you, but just stay here with him for a second. you can decorate your tree and cookies and stuff later. it’ll be you, him, and the fire for the next 30 minutes.

leona

christmas event

christmas traditions??? in a minute, he’s on the grind. he NEEDS this christmas skin and now. listen, he loves you. he truly does. but your normie activities can wait, right? this is a limited skin. these things can’t earn themselves. as soon as december 26th hits, it’s bye bye for that event. til he gets his event items, he’s not moving from his room.

idia

BONUS : MISTLETOE

you were just finished cleaning up after the activity you both did together, when he suddenly calls you over. he’s standing by the doorway, looking right at you. just by that, you could tell why he wants you over. with a smile, you walk over to him, trying to act oblivious to his intentions.

“remember when you said when two people meet under the mistletoe, they kiss?” he asks, a playful smirk on his face. you pretend to think about it before looking back at him. “hmm.. yes. why?”

he points up to the mistletoe hanging above both of your figures. without a second to spare, he crashes his lips onto yours.

the lighting in the room created a warm and light glow, capturing the both of you in an ambient setting. the temperature was still incredibly low inside of ramshackle, but allow his body warmth to keep you from freezing.

riddle, ace, deuce, trey, cater, leona, ruggie, jack, azul, jade, floyd, kalim, jamil, vil, epel, rook, idia, malleus, silver, sebek, lilia

A/N: ngl I think this is my worst work yet

but anyways, merry christmas to those who celebrate! wishing you lots of luck for the new year as well.

date written: 12/25/23

© temiizpalce — don’t steal or copy my work!

[call-of-daydreams]

Back Story- Price decides that his team, Ghost, Soap and Gaz need a much needed home cooked meal. And who better to cook it than his own missus. Plus with you cooking he knows for sure his men will eat all the food, after all they don't want to see the disappointed look on your face.

Cw: Fluff, "Family" Gathering

Price looked at his wife Y/n, a smile on his face. "Love, I was thinking... this Christmas, I'd like to invite the team to come over for a home-cooked meal. Would that be alright with you?"

You smiled back at him, clearly pleased by the idea. "Of course, dear. I'd love to have them over for Christmas it'll be nice to have some company other than just us."

Price nodded, relieved that you were on board with the idea. "Excellent, I'll let them know. I'm sure they'll appreciate a warm home-cooked meal and some good company on Christmas day."

You nodded "I'll start planning the menu, it'll be nice to cook for a couple extra people this year. Do you know what they like to eat?"

Price chuckled, shaking his head. "I doubt they care. They're just a bunch of hungry soldiers who'll eat anything i put infront of them."

You laughed, imagining the men eagerly devouring whatever food you put on the table. "Well, I'll make sure I cook enough food for a small army then."

Price grinned, obviously amused by the thought. "They'll appreciate that. They'll probably be asking for seconds before they even finish their first plate."

You chuckled, thinking about the men asking for more even with a full plate. "Well, I'll make sure we have plenty extras just incase. And maybe some extra deserts aswell."

Price nodded, clearly looking forward to the Christmas dinner. "That sounds perfect. I'm sure the team will appreciate your cooking, love. And I know I will as well."

~~Christmas day~~

Christmas day had finally arrived, and you were in the kitchen busily preparing the big dinner for the teams dinner. The house smelled like a mix of delicious spices and holiday treats as you finished up the last few dishes in the kitchen while singing along to Christmas music.

After a long couple of hours of cooking, you were finally done. The table was finally set with all kinds of homemade dishes, and the house felt warm and inviting. Price helped put the finishing touches on everything when he heard a knock on the door.

Price smiled at you as he went to answer the door. He opened it to find Ghost, Soap, and Gaz standing on the other side, all wearing smiles and holding gifts in their hands.

"Come on in, lads," Price said, stepping back to let them enter. The men all came into the house, looking around and taking in the festive decorations.

"Wow, the house looks amazing," Soap said, looking around at the Christmas decorations. Gaz and Ghost nodded in agreement, clearly both impressed by your handiwork.

You came out of the kitchen to greet them, a big smile on your face. "I'm so glad you could all make it. Merry Christmas, everyone."

The men all greeted her back, wishing you a Merry Christmas as well. They handed her the gifts they'd brought, each one wrapped neatly and tied with a bow.

You thank them for the gifts, setting them under the Christmas tree in the corner of the room. "Please, make yourselves comfortable. The food is just about ready to be served."

The men all found seats around the dining table, with Ghost sitting on one end and Soap and Gaz sitting on either side of him. Price took a seat next to you, a small twinge of nervousness in his stomach.

You, noticing your husband's slight anxiety, placed a reassuring hand on his arm. "Relax, darling. Everything will be fine."

Price nodded and taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "I know, love. I just want everything to go smoothly, that's all."

"You said yourself that these men will eat practically anything."

Price chuckled, his nerves starting to ease a bit. "You're right, you're right. They're basically human garbage disposals, they'll eat almost anything put infront of them."

Gaz and Soap mock-gasped at his comment. "Oi, we're not that bad!" Gaz said, feigning offense.

Price just laughed "Oh please, I've seen you two eat. You'll eat anything that's not nailed down."

Gaz and Soap both shrugged, not denying the accusation. Soap chimed in with a grin. "We just have a good appetite, that's all."

"It's because the Army starves you all, eat. I made it all for you guys."

Soap and Gaz both nodded, their eyes roaming over the spread of homemade food on the table. "We don't need to be told twice, Mrs. Price," Gaz said with a grin. "We'll gladly eat it all for you."

"What about you Ghost? What would you like to be passed to you?" You say with a slight jester to the food on the table.

Ghost looked over the food on the table, his eyes scanning the various dishes. "I'll take a bit of everything, love," he said, a small smile on his lips. "It all looks delicious."

Y/n chuckled, feeling emboldened by his response. "Everything, huh? You have quite the appetite, Ghost."

Ghost shrugged, unashamed of his hunger. "What can I say? I'm a man who knows what he likes."

"Well what are we waiting for, start passing food around. I mainly just want ham and sausage balls but you are all welcome to anything on the table."

The men all smiled at her words, clearly eager to dig in. "You don't have to tell us twice," Soap said, already reaching for the serving platter of ham on the table.

Gaz quickly followed suit, grabbing the platter of sausage balls she'd mentioned. "These look amazing," he said, sniffing at the food appreciatively.

Ghost nodded in agreement, his eyes roaming over the rest of the table. "Everything looks fantastic," he said, his voice low and rough. "You've outdone yourself, Y/n."

Y/n smiled at Ghost's compliment, feeling a sense of pride in her cooking. "I'm glad you all like it. Please, dig in."

The men didn't need any more invitation. They immediately started passing dishes around the table, loading up their plates with a bit of everything.

The room was filled with the sounds of forks and knives clinking against plates, as well as the occasional appreciative moan or sigh of pleasure.

"This is incredible," Soap said, his mouth full of food. "You really are an amazing cook, Y/n."

Gaz nodded in agreement, his fork already spearing another sausage ball. "Agreed. I don't think I've ever had a Christmas meal this good."

Ghost, as usual, said nothing, focused on eating as much as he could. But his face was a clear indication of his enjoyment, his expression one of pure bliss as he savored each bite.

Price sat back in his chair, watching the men devour his wife's cooking with a mixture of pride and amusement. "You see, love? I told you they'd eat everything you put in front of them."

"And you were nervous."

Price chuckled, a trace of embarrassment in his voice. "Yeah, maybe I was a bit worried they wouldn't like your cooking. But I should have known better. You're an amazing cook, after all."

"You eat too, love"

"Of course," Price said, grabbing a plate and starting to load it up with food. He glanced over at the men, all of whom were already on their second or third helpings. "You boys better slow down, or you'll eat us out of house and home."

"Their fine, I made extra"

"Looks like we've got our own personal eating team here," Soap teased between bites. "We can clear a buffet like nobody's business."

Gaz chuckled, nodding in agreement. "Damn right. Give us a challenge and we'll win it. You won't see a single crumb left on these plates."

Ghost just grunted in agreement, his mouth too full to speak. But the fact that he was already on his third helping spoke volumes

The dinner continued on, the men continuing to devour the food as fast as they could. They all praised Y/n's cooking, and even Ghost managed to mutter a compliment or two.

Price sat back in his chair, watching the display with a mixture of amusement and pride. He'd never seen his team eat so much, but he couldn't blame them. His wife's cooking was truly incredible.

As the meal came to an end, Y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. She smiled, knowing that she had managed to feed and please a group of hungry soldiers.

[shadowhearts-ponytail]

christmas with abby anderson!

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist ˚୨୧⋆｡˚⋆

a/n: I love winter so so much! and I love abby, so here you go!

warnings: this is just fluffy Christmas activities. there is a bit of a suggestive joke. but nothing too bad. let me know if I missed anything!

words: 1,066

abby is a Christmas girly. for sure. she loves Christmas. it is the most wonderful time of the year for her. by far. her favorite holiday. she goes all out.

abby has one of those mistletoe hats. the ones that hang mistletoe over you and another person. she wears it all the time as an excuse to pull you into a kiss. her hands on your hips as she leans down to plant a long kiss on your lips.

she has mistletoe all over your shared apartment. for extra kisses. in every single doorway. she keeps some mistletoe in her pockets to pull it out when you both are out so she can hold it over your head and pout for a kiss.

making Christmas cookies. she's a sugar cookie girl. simple. easy to make. plus, she likes decorating them with frosting after but will complain that the frosting "makes them overly sweet" when she's the one that drenched it in red and green icing and snowflake sprinkles.

she always makes cookies to give to her dad. she always makes him a big tin full of different kinds. chocolate chip, sugar cookies, oatmeal cookies, snickerdoodles, gingerbread men.

she's actually quite a skilled baker. old family recipes she knows by heart. muscle memory usually kicks in when she kneads the dough. she hums when she bakes. while she waits for the oven, she'll do a little dance if she thinks you aren't looking.

she makes fresh bread and cakes and so many sweets around the holidays. she's not one to eat sweets, but she loves making them for friends or family.

she makes enough to feed a damn army of 5,000 gren men and then sends them with you to work for your coworkers or to your family.

"no, baby. you know I hate cookies and cake. just give it to your family. or I'm sure your boss would love 200 cookies, right?"

"sure, abs. sure. whatever you say." you playfully roll your eyes at your girlfriend as she has once again gone overboard with the Christmas cookies, just like last year and the year before that. it's tradition at this point.

getting custom Christmas stockings with your names on them. the stockings mean a lot to her. getting to fill your stocking with little gifts, candies, and love notes would bring the purest smile to her face. and seeing her stocking next to yours. she loves seeing it. she's always wanted that. wanted someone to make her a stocking with her name on it.

she would get alice one and put it next to both of yours. full it with dog treats and chew toys. she says it makes you three a family.

abby buys alice a new collar every year and gets those doggy Christmas sweaters. she gets alice bones to chew on and toys and clothes to wear. that dog is spoiled rotten.

abby would want to take "family photos" with you and alice. she has alice wear one of the shirts in the photos.

she like hires a photographer, and everything. you go out to some field or somewhere nice to take professional pictures. she hangs them in your apartment and makes a Christmas card with them to send to both her family and yours from "The Anderson Family."

"I hope it's okay I used my last name. I'm sure you'll end up taking it anyway."

when she says this, you about choke on your water. "i-" cough, cough, "Yeah, that's fine, baby. I'm sure you're right." you tease with a little wink.

abby gets you small gifts every day of December up until Christmas. a small bouquet of flowers, a little handwritten note, candies. simple things. she sees it as an extra excuse to spoil you. not that she ever needs one. but she's just a sappy romantic like that.

she always wants to come home to you as soon as she gets off work to cuddle up and watch some Christmas movies, and warm up the apartment by cooking you dinner or baking.

abby probably isn't one of those people who's crazy particular about the ornaments on the tree. like they don't have to be all the same colors and shit. she would like handmade ones more. ones that were passed down in the family. sentimental ones.

she always puts the same star on the tree every year. one her dad got her as a gift. it'd very important to her. she packs it in a metal box wrapped in bubble wrap and blankets to keep it safe.

but she refuses to get on the ladder and out it on the tree. she's too scared of heights. she won't get further than the first step on the ladder.

"abby, cmon. just put the star on the tree. I'll get the ladder."

"No! I can't. what if I fall and break my neck?" she asks with puppy eyes and a big pout.

"abs are you serious? the chances of that are, like, zero!" you argue back to the muscled woman before you, "besides you're taller than me."

instead of arguing back, she picks you up in her massive arms and hoists you to sit on her shoulder.

"abby!"

"there. now you're taller. now you have to do it"

she wears boxers with Christmas prints on them. snowmen, reindeer, santa, snowflakes.

you guys are bickering about something meaningless, and to lighten the mood, she just unbutton her pants and push them down to her knees to reveal boxers with a mistletoe print on them then yell, "kiss it then!"

you can't help but burst into laughter and clutch your stomach as you double over in a fit of laughter.

abby looks at you with a cheeky grin, "still mad at me, baby?"

abby is a fanatic about Christmas lights. she likes going to the park closer to Christmas to see all the lights at night. she'd be so excited. begging to go every night until they take them down.

she brings you to the annual anderson family dinner. the first time she brought you, she was so excited, but you were so nervous.

she was practically bouncing with joy when her dad brought you into a tight hug the moment he met you. he immediately started to talk your ear off. making you feel welcome.

you are definitely invited to next year's dinner.

a/n: feedback is always welcome!

[lovelytsunoda]

slumber party // lance stroll

summary: when lances wife gets sick the morning of their daughters sixth birthday party, he offers to step in and play host. but of course, that’s before he finds out that it’s a slumber party, and he’s stuck with an army of six year olds until ten am the next morning.

the party was planned down to every painstaking detail so that it was perfect

right down to the princess decorations they started putting up a day early to the disney cake that chloe was making herself

it was going to be perfect

until y/n wakes up on the morning of with a blistering headache and nausea

she thinks they’re going to have to call off the party. she’s in no condition to handle a group of children

until lance steps in. he’ll call esteban and mick and between the three of them, they should be able to run a party without a hitch, right?

wrong.

they all arrive at the same time, and when the girls go running into the naive living room and start setting sleeping bags up under the skylight, the panic in his eyes is evident

“did your wife not tell you it was a slumber party?”

“no, she did not.” he bites his lip, running his fingers through his hair. “but how hard can it be, right?”

The other mother just laughs before she goes back to her car

horrible decision, really, but he leaves esteban and mick in charge while he runs upstairs to check on y/n (and get more details on the slumber part of the party)

and when he comes back downstairs, the girls are crying and one of them is hiding under the couch

“i left you alone with them for five minutes, esteban! what did you do?”

esteban looks at the floor, and mick rolls his eyes.

“somebody thought it was a good idea to open the afternoon with scary stories.”

“esteban, they’re six!”

“one of the girls told him he looked like the rat from flushed away and he decided the best course of action was to tell her that the house was haunted and micheal meyers would get her in her sleep.”

“this house was built in 2017 and I’m pretty sure nobody died here!”

he puts on an old barbie movie, and the girls calm down enough that they sit on the floor to eat party mix and gummy bears while the boys go over the game plan in the kitchen.

“what did you like doing when you were six?” lance asks desperately “there has to be something!”

“karting.” esteban shrugs.

“i cannot take ten six year olds to the karting track.”

but that gives him a different idea

which is how they end up in the simulator room trying to load Mario kart instead of the fia approved programming

which turns into an all out war between the girls

well

more like the army of six year olds against estie lance and mick

lance definitely lets his daughter win

chloe drops by dressed head to toe like a disney princess and brings the cake

scotty brings pizza

please please please imagine lance giving all these little girls princess manicures

his daughter defo makes him wear a plastic tiara

when the kids finally conk out and go to sleep around nine thirty (and esteban because he’s fucking tired), he goes upstairs to check on his wife while mick starts to clean up

she’s curled up in bed with the dog, buried under blankets

but she could hear the laughter coming up through the floor

“the girls are having a great time, honey.” she says sleepily, pulling him into bed with her “you guys are doing a great job.”

“i know. but please, for the love of god, never leave me in charge of a slumber party again. also, you might need to explain to mike and my dad why a ton of six year olds were using the sim to play mario kart.”

TAGS

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @oconso @scuderiamh @sidcrosbyspuck @thatsdemko @httpiastri @clemswrld @diorleclerc @lorarri @cartierre

[piplup335]

Valk x reader fluff!

…first of all-

F E L L A S

as I write this, it is past 1AM.

I’m on medication due to sickness, and I also gotta go to school tomorrow (I wake up around 4h from now ;-;)

“One more tumblr post”, I told myself, and that one post just so happened to be Valk x reader angst…

(I’M LOOKING AT YA, @sourle-)

couldn’t sleep after reading that, so I wrote this…

@lunarwashere, you poor soul…I made this for myself and the fellas that read it too.

take note, I’m on medication and an sleep deprived so this may not be up to standard, sorry…

uhhhh anyways-

enjoy! :D

-

“…and that’s it! Hit 'em right where it hurt!”

You were playing video games…again. It was the weekend though, and you had a ton of free time on your hands. Apart from the evening, that is- you had to go support your boyfriend at his concert.

Contrary to you, Valk worked on the weekends. Hell, sometimes he was even busier on the weekends than he was on the weekdays!

However, you had a role to play in his job too.

You needed to clear out the mailbox every few days.

Sometimes, you’d open your mailbox…only to find it overstuffed with pretty pink letters, letters with decorative bows on them…and you knew it was yet another influx of fan mail. It always happened after another one of Valk’s concerts with his brother.

The days leading up to the concert were much worse, mainly because he barely got a wink of sleep on the nights before each concert. He woke up earlier than you and you only had time to give him a morning kiss before he left for work. Valk only came home by the time you were asleep, often with an empty coffee mug in your hand- a testament to the efforts you put in just to stay awake for him, to spend some time with him…

Occasionally, you’d stay awake for long enough to pepper his face with kisses and cuddle him to bed. But those moments were few and far between.

The concerts themselves were tiring, but what happened after that seemed much worse. Almost like torture to him.

You’ve even seen it firsthand on many, many occasions…and today was no exception.

The crowd cheered as the two idols waved to all their onlooking fans.

“That’s the last song for today! See you next month!”

You looked at your boyfriend. His shirt, his jacket…everything…they looked so cute on him. His usual bubbly, energetic personality was still evident by the enthusiastic smile on his face, but something was off. His face looked so…empty.

Deep down, he had no more energy. No more enthusiasm to keep up the performance.

He was exhausted.

And considering the all-nighters he pulled during the days leading up to the performance, you couldn’t blame him.

As soon as the crowd dispersed, you made a beeline for the double doors leading to the backstage. At the sight before your eyes, however, you froze.

An entire army of fangirls were there. They surrounded the brothers, clamouring for their photos with the duo. The fans’ squeals of joy were loud, but the crowd’s arguing was louder. All of them wanted a picture with Flipside, the most famous idol group in Crossroads…but photos and videos would never be able to convey how they felt, deep down.

Valk’s cheerful facade masked a tired and lethargic soul. He just wanted to go home, flop on the bed and snuggle into your embrace. He wanted you to caress his horns and comfort him after the long day as you used your free hand to give him his much-wanted headpats…

By then, you’ve learnt to read the expression of his brother too.

Dom’s stoic expression managed to disguise his exhausted self quite well. He wanted to take off that bulky Dominus as it was quite humid to wear for prolonged periods…

As your boyfriend glanced at you with that pleading look that begged you to get him out of there, you tried to push through the crowd. You were swiftly pushed back by the fans, however.

“Wait for your turn!”

“Hey, outta the way! Quit trying to cut your way through!”

Valk shot you an apologetic look as you got pushed further and further away…and a few seconds later, he was gone. Vanished into the sea of fans.

Three hours after all that, you lay on the bed with Valk in your arms. He insisted on taking a quick shower and changing into something more comfortable, but once he did all that he instantly snuggled up to you and found peace in your embrace.

You ran your fingers through his soft, messy hair. That was one of the many things you adored about him. You absolutely loved everything about him- from the groggy but cute little expression he’d always have when he just woke up to small moments like these.

Your mind wandered to the pile of fan mail from two days ago. A lot of effort had clearly been put into decorating each one. You even read some of them with him before, and some of the messages were quite heartening.

You recalled the occasional gifts that would pop up in his mailbox. They were specially designed for him, and when Valk unwrapped them you could see that some of them definitely weren’t cheap.

But what did you ever give him? Other than gifts on special occasions, you never really had the budget to get him anything too extravagant.

“Hey, Valk…?”

“Hm?”

His pastel-yellow eyes met your own, the sleepiness evident in his gaze.

“…why’d you date me? You have so many adoring fans who send you gifts, cards, and a ton of stuff…and you still picked me…why? They’re so much better, and yet…you still chose to be with me…”

Valk’s eyes widened, his once exhausted expression turning into one of concern.

“My dove…why do you question that? You’re always so sweet and caring…not just to me, but my brother, the other Phighters, everyone…it’s hard not to love you. I should be the one asking what I ever did to deserve someone like you. Someone who always takes care of me without expecting anything in return, someone who knows me for who I truly am…gifts and cards mean nothing compared to that. Besides, I’ve already found the best gift I could ever have.”

“What is it…?”

Valk planted a soft kiss on your lips.

“You.”

-

aaaaand that’s another story down! I’m trying to work on requests, dw :D

again, sorry if this is ooc!

hope you enjoyed!

(sidenote: as I post this, it is almost 1:30AM, I am so tired, hELP ME-)

[foodandfolklore]

Kitchen Altars - Placement Pros and Cons

For those unaware, an Altar in Witchcraft is a surface where you do most of your magical or spiritual "stuff". It helps you focus your intentions, harness power, and is your general working space. I see a lot of Kitchen Witches making or wanting to make altars to have in their kitchen. It can give them a space to charge items, to leave offerings, to gather energy and power, ect. They may also use it to invite a specific deity or entity into their kitchen. So what or where can be your Altar? Here are some ideas depending on your needs.

The entire Kitchen This is the route I think many traditional Kitchen Witches Take. An altar is meant to be a working space. Your kitchen is like a swiss army knife of working space. If you want your entire kitchen to be your altar, don't be afraid to add things to Up it's magical energy. Kitchen/Cottage Witch Poppets, Decorative Crystals, Important Symbols, hand made garlands, charms, Whatever.

However, the down side to this is: first, It's harder to stay in the broom closet the more you have on display. I am very lucky in that I don't fear any kind of persecution from family, friends, neighbors, ect. But not everyone feels as secure openly practicing. Second, if you are someone who shares a kitchen with many people like roommates or extended family, you may not be able to set up or decorate the kitchen exactly as you want. Additionally, All these extra people coming in an out at different times with different moods can throw off the energy in the space. So having something separate might work better for you.

Counters Probably the most popular place to set up an altar in a kitchen as it's the most obvious. You may want to set aside a small section of your counter and dedicate it to an altar. A shallow wooden box or tray for you to put your altar in may be a good idea. This is because the main downside to having an altar set up on your counter is you lose counter space. Which can be very valuable. So by building your altar on or in a tray allows you to move it temporarily should you need the extra counter space.

Cupboards or Drawers This is a little more broom closet friendly. You can set up an altar in an obscure cupboard shelf or unused drawer, then open it up when you want to use it. Then when not in use, it's closed up out of sight. Since it's closed off, you don't need to worry as much about dust or kitchen grim. However, the downside is your altar is either taking up valuable storage space or it's in an awkward to get to area. Like that corner cupboard that you need to get on a chair in order to reach the back, or that drawer that can only open when you have the oven door open. If it's a pain in the ass to get to, you're less likely to use it.

Kitchen Table If your table is large enough to hold a bowl or basket as a decorative center piece, consider building your altar in that bowl or basket. This tends to be a great option for those with their foot in the broom closet since the altar can be written off as a decorative piece. It's also good in that it doesn't take up work or storage space. And since it's in a basket or other container, you can move it when you need the space.

The downside is for us witches who are a little more...chaotic...in our organization style. Stuff gets dropped on the kitchen table to be dealt with later, only for later to never come. Mail, clothes, documents, drinking glasses; things just get lost in the layers of time. Your altar may end up lost or damaged.

Windowsill Another popular choice for Kitchen Witches who like to grow herbs or plants. They'll set up their foliage by the window and base an altar around that. Space tends to be a bit limited in these cases, so make sure any additions are small. Also be carful when setting up crystals in your windowsill. While sunlight is great for plants, it can be harmful for some popular crystals like Amethyst and fade the color.

Also, pay attention to how your window opens. If you want to open the window and it slides, or you need to crank a handle, you don't want anything to block the window from opening. And on the flip side, you don't want to damage your altar items if opening the window causes them to fall.

Shelves Specifically shelves that are separate from the kitchen cupboards. You may want to install a floating shelf or just get a corner shelf stand. You can build your altar on one (or all) of the shelf surfaces. It's great as it can be set out of the way but still in an area that's convenient to get to.

The downside tends to be cost and installation. Floating shelves tend to be cheaper than a standing corner shelf. You can find some nice wooden floating shelves at second hand stores or flea markets for anywhere between 10 to 60 dollars. But when you install them, you want to make sure you drill part of it into a wall stud. This helps stop them from falling down. This is assuming you CAN drill into a wall, as many rental agreements don't allow you to put holes in walls. A small, standing shelf is a good alternative and renter friendly. However, you tend to need to buy these new and can cost several hundred dollars. If you or someone you know are good with carpentry, maybe you can build a custom shelf. But new wood is still very expensive.

Fridge Close the fridge, we're not putting it inside. I mean you can; but that might be messy. Most fridges have at lest 1 magnetic surface. And did you know there are a lot of things you can get with magnets attached? Magnetic Jars or Containers, Magnetic shelves, Magnetic hooks- Not to mention the plethora of decorative magnets. I've seen tarot card magnets, moon phase magnets, Astrology magnets, ect. You can arrange your fridge to be a vertical altar.

The downside here being most of these items will probably be bought online, and the quality of the magnetism can vary. Make sure you read reviews and make sure something won't just fall off one day. And avoid pushing the strength of things like Magnetic shelves by loading them up with heavy objects. Another downside may be your fridge doesn't have a magnetic side exposed. Stainless steel fridges tend to not be magnetic on the front. Something about the metal used. They are magnetic on the sides, but if your fridge doesn't have exposed sides due to placement, you may be SOL for a fridge altar.

Outside the Kitchen Lastly, remember that just because you practice kitchen magic, doesn't mean you need to restrict yourself to the kitchen. Kitchen witches are allowed to practice other kinds of magic in addition to kitchen magic. You may want an altar for these situations. So set one up in the living room, dining room, bedroom, backyard, bathroom, wherever works for you. And if it doesn't work for you, don't be afraid to move it!

[misguidedasgardian]

The Winter Sun (22)

22. Rains of Fire

MASTERLIST

Summary: Your personal sacrifice is not enough to Aemond’s thirst 

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Fem!Targaryen Reader, one sided Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Targaryen Reader

Warnings: Cursing, medieval and asoiaf customs, AGE GAP, Cregan is 12 years OLDER than reader), arranged marriage, incest, hinted non-con, involuntary imprisonment, non con adultery, kidnapping, a little choking, body shaming (Aemond is a c*nt, I imply Reader had chubbier hips from giving birth), death of characters, war and all that comes with it, might miss some warnings

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 3.1 k

Notes: Ufff this was hard to write. I know I have to update Dragons' mistress and the White Dragon, but I had to write this first, I was just taped to the computer writting this

Cregan hand’s shaked as he read the urgent words of his sister, his eyes filled with tears as he whined, like a wounded animal 

His fist landed on the table on his tent.

He so childishly thought he could protect you, but not even an army of a thousand men could get between a dragon and his desire. He was marching to fight a war, and yet, it wasn’t enough

“How long until we reach Harrenhal?”, he asked his most trusted man, Jon, the second son of Lord Roderik 

“Two weeks Lord”, he whispered shakily

“We need to pick up the pace “, he grunted, “my wife just…”, he looked at him and he straightened his posture, “she tried to take matters into her own hands”

“Is the Lady of Winterfell alright?”, he asked, fearfully, “is the heir…?”

“The heir is fine”, he said shortly, “but the Lady of Winterfell is in enemy hands”, he said shortly, "we need to reach Harrenhal as soon as we are able, and send a raven to Dragonstone for the old gods!”, he said quickly, “we are facing the largest dragon in the world!”

The man that was around his age left the tent in a hurry, and Cregan bit his bottom lip strongly, enduring the need to cry

You had been threatened and flied willingly to the enemy hands

He didn’t know Aemond in his entirety, but… he was a man, a dark man… with dark desires. He didn’t have to be a genius or a wizard to know what that man wanted to do to you

His wife, his beautiful, smart, sweet, loving wife who had fled her own home to marry him, to escape that monster, who trusted him to protect her and care for her and keep her safe.

He had failed

In a rage he threw everything he had atop his desk to the dirty ground

You threw yourself to the jaws of the dragon to spare him, he hasn't been fast enough, powerful enough, to protect you, his own wife.

And he could only pray to see you again

It had to be at night

You had manage to hide a small knife in a gartner around your thigh, but for it to work, Aemond needed to be impossibly close, and impossibly distracted and relaxed for it to work

The mere thought made your stomach turn, but it was the only way, and if it was at night, you had a better chance to escape in the night, with Vhaelar being so close

She was injured but you could hear her sing at nights, missing you, so it was clear she was ready to fly away if needed be. 

You shook in anticipation, he had left to arrange some things, and left you alone to put on a very flamboyant dress and jewelry, like the one he gifted you in Winterfell. You whined, scared out of your mind, but you had to remind yourself that you were doing this for a reason, a good reason, for the survival of your family, your husband, your son, Sara, the North, all of them. 

You were getting claustrophobic in this windowless room, it was beautiful decorated, yes, and the candles lit up the room and their scents prevented you from smelling the burn stone and wood and the moist of something that had never seen the sunlight, but they were there, you knew it, like ghosts

Sometimes in those hours he left you, you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

A shaky maid brought you water, wine, bread, cheeses and fruits to calm your needs, and left you without even looking at you. You knew it would be futile to try and talk to her. You knew what Aemond did, killing everyone in the castle, he probably filled it with people loyal to the Greens. 

You were not proud to admit that you drank the full pitch of wine, out of nervousness, and by the time Aemond walked back into the room, you were tipsy, and on your nerves

Aemond didn’t take long to see that

“I’m sorry for leaving you for so long”, he seemed disgustingly pleased with himself, and amused by your tipsiness, “believe me when I say, I wouldn’t have left at all”

“You are here now”, you said, fighting to make it an even voice. He smiled darkly 

“I am”, he took one step towards you, and you couldn’t help but take one step back, making him smile darkly

“You know why you came”, he said

“I know”, you whined, “but Aemond… I need to know…”, he was bored pretty quickly

“Get on the bed”, he commanded, and you whined

“Please”

“I don’t want to force you”, he said simply, clasping his hands together behind his back, “it will be better for the both of us if you surrender yourself to me”, he said simply, with the edge of his mouth turned upwards, in a sick little smile

“Aemond”, you whimpered.

Of course before you kill him, you wanted to see if you could convince him to retreat, but as you could see, there was no going back on his darkness 

“Do it”, he only demanded. By your count, it was already nighttime, so this was it, this was the time to do it.

You walked towards him, turning off your brain and all your thoughts, and you kissed him roughly. He released his own hand and grabbed you almost tenderly, like he couldn’t believe this was happening. But then he kissed you back, taking control, his hands got rough, grabbing your arms, and then your sides, squeezing your flesh

“I‘m enjoying your initiative”, he whispered darkly and your lips left his, but he wasted no time in kissing you again, biting on your lips, making you cry out. When you realized what was about to happen, you needed to fight with yourself to tune yourself off. You needed to be in control if you were really going to go through with your plan.

So you needed to be in control. 

He seemed to sense your urgency, so as he kissed you roughly he led you to the bed.

You fell on top of it hazardously, a mix of limbs and arms, but you were determined. You manage to be on top of him, and your took a sharp breath, the flimsy fabric of your dress already up your thighs 

He looked up at you with wonder in his eye

This was it

And as you accommodated yourself on top of him, you looked down at his face, and he immediately could see that something was wrong, as you couldn’t hide your anger and your hate any longer, you took your hand under the skirt that was already hunched around your thighs, and uncovered the dagger

You were quick, taking both hands and raising the weapon over both your heads, Aemond opened his eye widely, his arms under your knees, he couldn’t do anything. 

His heart was your aim, and as you were lowered the knife into him, he went in so slow you cursed yourself, that is what it felt like, but as you were lowering the knife with was like incredible speed, you were pulled backwards, as sharp nails grabbed you by your hairs and scalp

You whined in pain as you landed on the floor in what seemed to be slow motion, you tried to protect yourself from hitting the stone floor but your arm landed awkwardly, your leg twisted as well. You were not injured, but hurt. Something or someone kicked your hand, the knife flying over the other side of the room, and as you tried to stand, Aemond had done so, and right by your side, was a woman with long dark hairs, sharp green eyes and her face twisted in rage

Aemond could not believe what his eye was seeing

“Do you think she would’ve come freely if you hadn't threatened her?”, she asked bitterly, “she came here to kill you”

“Fuck you!”, you screamed, your nerves in the edge of your skin, you had failed, fatally 

Aemond looked at the scene developing in front of him, his witch, Alys Rivers, the woman he had taken to bed to assert dominance, he could have never imagined she was the owner of a dark power, and then, the woman he truly wanted, on the floor crying in anger, married someone else and had his child, having tried to kill him after she pretended to wanted to be with him. 

Even though Alys knew what his aim was -you-, she even helped him to get to you, and yet, she, as any person would be, was jealous of you, she believed she was the one Aemond should be with, should want, she could give him a child, she could give him everything you could, and more, she could give him dark powers.

Aemond soon was angry, he had lost control of the situation, he had let himself be blinded by you. 

“It’s me who you should be with”, she said bitterly, looking at you still on the floor, pitifully, “it is me who had been faithfully by your side all these months, and it is me who can give you everything you want”

“Get out”, he said bluntly, taking Alys by surprise

“What?”, she snapped, still not impressed

“Get out”, he was fuming, Alys contained her anger, walking away from the room, closing the door with a surprising strength

“Aemond”, you called, scared of what you were seeing, he was very angry, enraged. He grabbed you by the neck, not squeezing but still you couldn’t breathe, he threw you on the bed and as you recuperated, he went to the door, opening it and barked orders to a soldier on the hallway that you couldn’t hear, and the he turned towards you, grabbing his own dagger from his belt

“Please!”, he threw himself on you, straddling your middle, making it hard for you to breathe but he immobilized you. “Please!”

“You are just a tricky little whore!”, he shouted, you had never seen it this angry, he was usually so contained within himself 

“Aemond please don’t do this, please!”, he sliced the top of your dress and then he ripped it off with your own hands, at once you were completely naked underneath him, and then a shaky soldier entered the room, in his hands there was two thin, short chains

“No”, you whined with tears in your eyes, “NO!”, Aemond trapped one of your wrists no matter how hard you fought him, he was stronger than you in aspect, quicker, smarter…

He closed the other ends around the wooden frame of the bed. 

And one you were immobilized in one arm, he went for the other , and he chained you to the bed like you were an animal

The guard left without even looking at you, but you could tell he looked troubled, but there was no time for you to concern yourself with such things, Aemond was looking down at you with a hunger in his eyes that scared you

“You are certainly looser that the last time I saw you”, he mocked, grabbing your chubby hips, you whined, motherhood certainly had taken a toll on you

“Fuck you”, you spit out

“But no matter”, he whispered, “it is still you”

“Please Aemond, it is not too late!”, you begged, “please don’t do this”

“Why can’t you see?”, he growled, “you had been mine all along, it was a mistake on my part to make you believe you had a choice”, you cried underneath him, once he realized you were tied up nicely and tightly, he separated himself from you to undo his breeches, he didn’t even undressed fully, he didn’t even get his clothes off

“Like I said, you are already married, so for now, you are my whore”, he growled, “But I will not forget what you tried to do, you tried to kill me, and your husband will pay the consequences”

“NO!”, you cried, twisting and turning underneath him, crying bitterly, “you promised”

“You have to understand, that my promise is no longer valid after you tried to stab me in the heart”

“You have no heart”, you cried, “please don’t do this”

“I could have been nice, and gentle”, he growled, “but you are more dragon than lamb, are you not?”, he teased, he released his cock, and you whimpered at the sight 

“You are going to give me real children”, he whispered darkly, “dragon princes”, you only shook your head, but you had to look away as he pushed your legs open and placed himself between them

You couldn’t even look at him as you let him take you.

They weren’t advancing fast enough

Cregan thought bitterly, two weeks had passed since he receive the dark news from Winterfell, he knew Aemond had you in his power and he knew what he was capable off

They had already passed the Crossroads Inn and he knew it was a matter of a few kilometers until they could see the burn and cursed towers of Harrenhal

His army was great, he had met men in all the Northerner cities he went through on his journey South, he had a power of ten thousand men 

He would siege the Castle, he knows it will take the lives of many men as Harrenhal was huge and completely defendable once you could take it, but if he could convince the Kinslayer to come and face him face to face, relying on his hate for him, he could take him in a hand to hand combat

But his plans were… mercilessly destroyed

They came at first light, storming his camp, an army of Baratheons and soldiers from the Royal army as well

The surprise factor did take them by surprise but only for a moment, as they retaliated fiercely, they were the winter wolves, the wildest army Westeros has ever seen.

The battle was brutal, mounted soldiers galloping through the tents and breaking havoc, hard tall men throwing them off their horses with axes of war hammers

Cregan, fueled by rage, cut enemy soldiers in half with the strength and power of Ice, his Valyrian sword, screaming in a rage, seeing red everywhere, the battle was soon pretty even, even though the wolves were being attacked by double the numbers

But Cregan had no space on his mind but for one thing

“KINSLAYER!”, he called, freezing everyone around him, and for his luck, or curse, Aemond answered the call, appearing through the soldiers and smoke, and destruction

“Stark”, he called back, soon they were in the middle of a circle, surrounded by men that had stopped the slaughter just to witness something that was going to be written in the storybooks 

“Where is my wife?”, he asked, on guard, with his sword between his hands

“My whore is in Harrenhal, waiting for me in my bed”, he wanted to jump him, cut off his head, but he had to be smarter, he had to beat him. 

“Release her, and I will march away”, he said firmly, Aemond only chuckled, his own sword on his hand, ready for the kill

“I will carve your heart out and present it to her as a wedding present”, he breathed out

“You will have to kill me first”, he threatened, putting himself in a position for attack

“After you are dead, I’m going to fly to that wasteland you call home, I’m going to take your widow in your bed, and I’ll give her my children”

“You are never going to touch her again!”, he growled

“I already did, make her bleed on my cock”, that was not true, but Cregan didn’t care as that was the last straw, with a war cry he threw himself towards Aemond, Ice on hand

The clash was brutal 

Both blinded, one by power and lust, another for love and desperation. It was a fight for the ages, the single strength shown by both in their encounter made the hearts of everybody who was seeing it clench.

The battle around them also continued, each soldier inspired by their leader, soon Cregan and Aemond both got pushed around by the own fights going around them

“But don’t worry, I don’t care about that little brat, I’m going to leave it there”, Aemond teased, “lets see how long it takes your bastard sister to find him in the snow after I take her eyes”

“ARGH!”, Aemond's sword, that was not Valyrian steel, got split in two by the sheer force of Cregan and Ice, Aemond grabbed a shield from the ground, Cregan was stronger than him, but he was way faster and leaner. quicker on his feet, so he managed to dodge every heavy attack, slower by the size of the sword. 

With a growl, and fighting against himself, Aemond retreated, taking advantage of his soldiers around him, Cregan tried to reach him, but his path was cut by Green soldiers 

“FIGHT ME AEMOND!”, he screamed, “CRAVEN!”, but the silver haired man disappeared between his men, walking away from him.

The royal army with the Baratheons surrounded the Northmen, making them so tightly against one another they could barely move

Cregan could barely breathe, as he looked around in desperation, it was a sickening moment, in which for him, all hope was lost. Jon was by his side on a second

“My father is leading half the army to surround them, we are going to be fine!”, he managed to scream, Cregan had to believe him, but the sheer force of the attack was unbelievable, the worst part wasn't even… Cregan gasped loudly, as he watched frantically for the skies. 

They had placed his camp on a valley, that was their first mistake, even though he had placed watchers on any high point around it, they had been clearly slain without anybody knowing, so they were in the worst place possible 

It was moments that felt like hours, as the Northmen fought their way to make room, to recuperate ground, but they were having a hard time doing so, and that is when… all hell broke loose

“DRAGONFIRE!”, screamed another one

“COVER OUR LORD!”

“NO!”, it all happened so fast, Cregan remembered being pushed to the ground, in the reduced space, in the mayhem, in the midst of battle, someone hit him in the head, it could have been a foot, it could have been a shield of the pointless part of a spear, but he lost himself in the roar of battle.

More notes: THIS WAS INTENSE, I couldn't bring myself to write *that* scene, but still you get the picture... Don't hate me please, you know, or at least some of you know, that I'm a sucker for happy endings... hehe this isn't over yet!

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[gyllenhaalstories]

JOHN KINLEY DRABBLE

trope: one bed

warnings: army/military, death, funerals, storm. 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 800

photo credit: iheartjake / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

notes: thank you to @sizzlingcloudmentality for the spin the wheel activity and for encouraging me to post my results as actual little drabbles. 🥰 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

I'm going full sad mode here, but funerals. He's back in America, funerals are held for one of the many men who died under his authority. You're in the family of the deceased guy. John wants to keep it low profile, he wants the focus to be on the man they're celebrating both the life and death of not on the war-hero-but-kind-of-not-heroic-at-all who helped one afghan interpreter to get a better life. So he sits towards the back of the church, next to you in fact. You don't talk, it's as if he doesn't acknowledge your presence at all until you hand him your small packet of tissues because you noticed he cried. The funerals end, everyone gathers in the cemetery of endless white graves for all of the other fallen soldiers. Except the sky gets dark and heavy, the clouds gather and soon enough rain pours and lightning strikes. Everyone rushes to the nearest restaurants or malls or hotels, for a place to stay dry until the storm passes.

You both end up in the lobby of the same hotel, soaked to the bone from the rain. Phones keep ringing, the computers' system crash from such high demand, the new and modified reservations keep coming in. The hotel manager is trying to calm everyone down and accommodate as best as they can. John, who had already gotten a room, spots you in the crowd. You look distressed. He goes up to you, you tell him you don't know how you can drive home in the rain. He's almost offended you're even considering the option of driving in such weather and put yourself in danger. He offers you to use his room, you can dry up with towels or take a hot shower until the storm passes. Except it doesn't pass. Now, not only are you stuck away from home but you're stuck in a hotel room with a total stranger.

Eventually, night falls and John insists that you get some rest so you can drive home tomorrow. The room only has one bed, not a big one at that either. There aren't enough blankets and pillows to sleep on the ground. John insists he can take the floor if you'd prefer, if it makes you feel safer. He doesn't mind. He's slept on worse surfaces than carpet. That's when you inquire about him. John Kinley. As in the Master Sergeant John Kinley? Yes. You feel a bit safer, if he went so far to protect his interpreter, you assumed he was not a bad guy. You both surrender and share the bed, using a decorative pillow as a separation for your peace of mind. He insists he does not move when he sleeps, but he understands you need the mental barrier. You both fall asleep, things seem to go smoothly.

Except, you shiver. The cold rain had gotten to you. You shiver and John cannot sleep oddly enough. John has slept in worse conditions, the loudest noises or the worst smells someone can think of. He has slept surrounded by cadavres after a mission that left him stranded and waiting to be picked up. He's slept through it all (except the emotional turmoil left by Ahmed's uncertain destiny but you don't need to know that) but you shivering and shaking uncontrollably keeps him up. He scoots closer and closer to you on the bed. You just don't stop. You don't even seem to notice your body is shaking. He puts the decorative pillow between your head and the headboard so you don't hurt yourself. He scoots even closer until his broad chest presses against your back. Warmth is warmth, whether it comes from a fireplace or a body, it does the job.

He coos at you when you stir in your sleep, noticing his presence, he whispers he just wants you to calm down. You're too tired to hesitate, you're too tired to tell him you'll be okay. He rubs your arm, hoping the friction helps your body to warm up and allows you to drift to sleep. He presses more against you, you can feel his warm skin through your clothes. He feels like a radiator. He stays right here with you until you fall asleep again. You eventually do... John falls asleep too. Holding you, spooning you, keeping you safe. Neither of you move that night.

John wakes up first, his body conditioned to wake up at ungodly hours. It takes a moment to process the presence of a stranger in his bed. As much as a person he cuddled to sleep can be a stranger. You snore softly, sleeping soundly. He takes a few deep breaths and he feels his eyelids getting heavier. A little longer won't hurt. Holding you a little closer won't hurt either.

[musicoftheheart]

Hi!!

This is pretty random but I need to know

Which Pokemon do you think each of the marauders era characters would have?

i need you to know that i love you for this question and i spent far too long thinking about this.

for the sake of time, we're going to look at the marauders themselves here, and use generation 4 (diamond/pearl/platinum) pokemon because its my favourite (and objectively the best).

lets start with remus. funnily enough, i find him the easiest here. his starter is turtwig for many reasons - the aesthetic, the evolutions (the tree on a torterra connects in my head to the whomping willow) - but most importantly the fact its ultimately the most logical choice. not only is it super effective against the first gym, but its super effective against more overall than either of the other two starters, especially once you consider the evolutions - not to mention that grass-type moves will be an advantage when it comes to taking on cynthia at the end of the main game. its also much easier to build a team around.

hes a completionist at heart, so while he doesnt faff around for longer than he needs to hatching eggs (see: james) or digging underground for literal days (see: sirius), he does take the time to get pokemon like riolu and spiritomb despite it not being a requirement to reach the champion. also, once hes into post-game, he's the first to complete the pokedex.

by the end of the main game, this is his full team (in no particular order): torterra, staraptor, luxray, spiritomb, gyarados, machamp.

next we'll look at peter. his starter is piplup; the underestimated starter, not unlike himself. piplup is a strong starter early game - its super effective against the first gym, for a start - and can still be useful later on too, i.e. against the ice gym once evolved to empoleon. of course, its weak to gym 2, but by then peter has, like remus, picked up a starly and trained it up to waltz straight through.

his full team, by the end, is: empoleon, staraptor, luxray, roserade, gengar, rapidash.

james has given me more pause. his starter, by far, is the hardest choice for his whole team. in the end, id have to say chimchar. i mean, cmon, look at his love interests; he likes them fiery. i think, unlike remus and peter, james (and sirius, once we get there, though not to the same level) would pick his pokemon less with logic, to an extent, and more with his actual favourites. this is a fun game, after all, why make it boring with rules?

on that note, he *loves* the eeveelutions. he thinks theyre super cute, so refuses to have a team without at least 2 of them as soon as hes able. he spends *forever* finding a ditto or a second eevee so that he can breed them and create an army.

his final team is: infernape, leafeon, umbreon, glaceon, jolteon, staraptor (specifically with close combat). he does surprisingly well with this once he eventually makes it to cynthia considering he didnt pick his team based on type-matchups.

sirius. oh, sirius. he's a toughie. he never picks piplup as his starter; despite it being cute, he deems it the weakest by far and absolutely useless. for that reason alone, he picks chimchar, because it means his rival (whom he names snivellous and takes great pride in beating every time) picks piplup.

he, too, likes the eeveelutions, but doesnt have the same obsession as james over them. he does however spend most of his time getting sidetracked underground, and has the most decorated base of any of them. he drags remus down to see it when he can, and enjoys stealing james' and peter's flags to destroy more boulders.

his final team (once the others have complained enough that sirius needs to finish the game so they can have their tournament) is: infernape, staraptor, roserade, magnezone, mismagius, abomasnow. he did put some level of thought behind these choices, to be fair, but took two attempts to beat cynthia. dont ask me why, he just did.

i realise ive now genuinely spent over an hour doing this, despite it going beyond what the question asked. however! you asked a (probably) neurodivergent person about two of their special interests! you brought this upon yourself :)

if you made it to the end, have a cookie 🍪

[calaroseeey]

Dancing in Fields of Sage Blossoms: Chapter One

Adar x Galadriel. Rated T+. 3130 words. Chapter 1 / ?

Chapter One: An Unexpected Semblance

≻───── ※※※ ─────≺

Light fell through the canopy of trees above. Adar stood among the towering birch and holly just beyond the fallen city. Autumn had come swiftly and the forest displayed the fullness of color. Wind blew gently in these parts, and the sun shined warm.

On his unblemished hand, the ring glittered like polished gold overlaid with silver light. She was more beautiful when the sunshine touched her, yet it appeared to him that she possessed a light in and of herself, not unlike the light of the Lady Alatáriel.

The ring had given him more power than he hoped for, but above all, a sudden wisdom which had come bright as the break of dawn.

≻───── ※※※ ─────≺

Second Age, 1156

The Southlands

Galadriel’s white horse ran through the dense forest. The rider she sought after led an orc attack on a nearby Southland village, and tried to flee on horseback during battle.

She calculated him to be an emissary of the Dark Lord. She did not know if she was chasing an orc or a sorcerer or even a mortal man. Truthfully, she did not care what he was, only that he could lead her to his master.

Orcs had ravaged the southern countryside for years now. Local word told that the orcs were under this nameless commander, from whose army wrought death and toil. For why else would he seek to reclaim the land of Mordor, if not for for Dark Lord?

The dark-clad rider effortlessly outmaneuvered her, gracing over fallen trees and dried brush. The forest seemed to darken the deeper they went westward, down and over hills and across small streams. She bent closer to her horse and sped faster over ground, and soon she was right behind him. Metal armor clanged against itself on his brown horse, decorated intricately in red and black.

Halbrand, her companion as of late, approached riding from the north-west, intercepting them. There was not enough time for the commander to change his course as Halbrand quickly advanced.

She could not hear her companion mutter in Black Speech, nor did she notice how unnaturally swift his movement was for a mortal man. She did however, see him hold out a pike and trip the commander’s horse, sending him crashing into the dry ground.

Galadriel watched from a near distance as the commander, his face still in the dry pine layered ground, attempted half-wittingly to crawl forward for his sword which had fallen. Halbrand approached and without warning drove his pike into the commander’s outstretching hand. He muttered a single cry, but did not try to fight. He resigned his head onto the ground. Halbrand kicked him over on his back.

“You remember me?” Halbrand spoke low, as if withholding great anger. The commander took several moments.

“No.” He said at last.

Halbrand continued to stare at him, and nodded slightly. He stepped on his arm as he pulled up his pike out from his hand. He moved his foot to his chest and went to strike him.

A sudden panic seized Galadriel.

“Stop!” She set foot off her horse. “We need him alive! I need him alive.”

“You don’t know what he did.” Halbrand spoke hoarsely, keeping the tip of the blade against his throat.

“Did I cause someone you love pain?” The commander spoke low and coarse, as if speaking at all caused difficulty, yet his voice held a vague familiarity. “A woman, perhaps? Or a child?”

Halbrand fought against tears and couldn’t hold the pike steady.

“Halbrand.” She ordered. “Put it down. One cannot satisfy thirst by drinking seawater.”

He met her gaze. After a moment of hesitation, the pike dropped to his side. The commander still laid on the ground.

She began to approach Halbrand and their captive. Dried brush and fallen branches littered the ground and crunched under her step. The commander managed to sit up, bracing himself against the ground, with his back turned to her. Halbrand kept his pike at the ready.

She walked around him. His head was bowed and long dark hair fell around his face. Then he raised his head, and the face of her husband stared up at her.

Her eyes did not deceive her. The centuries that passed seemed like a moment’s leave. Intrinsically she expected him to greet her as he always had, and give her an explanation that would make sense to her heart in spite of appearances. She fought against her will to reach for him and take him into her embrace.

Then a cold truth settled into her heart, spreading to joint and marrow. His face was scarred and deathly pale like the moon. Yet his eyes were the same blue clear and bright as the sea. She searched for any hint of recognition in them, but found none.

“Would you care to explain to me why you are here?” She asked, at last. He did not respond. She could not read anything from his face, his gaze was distant and cold. Not just time stood between them.

“Galadriel,” Halbrand spoke quietly, “There are orcs in this forest. We must move. Let us move your interrogation into the village.”

Halbrand raised him up and shackled his hands behind him, the one still dripping with dark blood. Questions flooded her mind faster than she could respond.

“I will take him.” Halbrand began tying a rope from his horse to the shackles before Galadriel could protest.

She wanted to order him to be gentle, but thought better of it. The ride back to the village was quick, though her mind was whirling and restless. Halbrand led the captive inside an unused barn, threw him down and chained him to a wooden beam. Remnants of hay lined the wooden floor. Sun slivered through the broken beams of the arched ceiling.

“Leave us.” She ordered. Halbrand swiftly walked past her, not bothering to look at her. Now they were alone. She gained the strength to walk up to where he was chained. He was sitting against the beam, his head bowed.

“Now,” she began, “will you tell me, why you are here?”

He said nothing.

“You have survived.” 

“Survived what?” His voice was coarse and worn.

“Morgoth.” She stood still, analyzing him. “Why do you command the orcs?”

“I command them as you command your soldiers.” He answered, still refusing to meet her eyes.

“I have heard stories of elves taken by Morgoth. Tortured, twisted. I hardly believed such rumors to be true, that some had bent to his will. That soldiers sent out to fight against the darkness would join it.” She turned to look out the broken barn doors. “I beg you give me evidence against such claims.”

He looked on in silence.

“Why have you forsaken yourself?” She searched his face for some semblance of understanding. “You have dishonored your name and your house.”

“My name is Adar.”

“Adar? You lie. What is your name?”

“It is what I am called.”

“From whom? Your orc army?” She laid her hand on the hilt of her dagger at her waist. “Tell me why you command the orcs.”

“Uruk. They are called Uruk. They are beings made of the secret fire, the same as you. Each one has a name, a heart-“

“A heart created by Morgoth.”

“Each is worthy of the breath of life, and just as worthy of a home.”

“Perhaps we should bring our prisoners into the sunlight.” She walked closer, tightening her grip on her dagger. “Why has Sauron given you charge over these orcs?”

“The value of my existence is to provide for them. There is no life for me apart from that.” Adar stared at the ground, and his eyes were still distant. “I do not serve the one you call Sauron, my lady. After Morgoth’s defeat, he devoted himself to healing Middle-earth, bringing its ruined lands together in perfect order. He sought to craft a power not of the flesh, but over flesh. But something was missing. Still he persisted, no matter how much blood spilt in his pursuit. For my part, I sacrificed enough of my children for his aspirations. I split him open. I killed Sauron.”

“I do not believe you.”

“Soon this land will be ours. Then you will understand.”

“No,” she knelt down before him. “There will be no understanding. And there will be no mercy. Do not force me to drive my blade into your poisoned heart.”

“It would seem I am not the only elf alive who has been transformed by darkness. Perhaps your search for Morgoth’s successor should have ended in your own mirror.”

She drew her dagger and knelt over him, gently pushing the blade against his neck and turning his face to hers. Now, he met her eyes. He was still, and hadn’t even flinched at her approach. Memories of being this close to him came rushing to the front of her mind.

Still his eyes were empty. She wondered if some creature of darkness had found itself in his discarded body, eating away his mind and heart.

“Don’t you remember?” Her voice rose barely above a whisper.

“Galadriel.” Halbrand warned, approaching them. She did not alter her position. Nor did Adar respond in any way. Her heart strained to close the distance even still. She quickly extinguished the thought.

“You betray yourself.” She whispered in his ear, close enough to almost graze his skin. Her blade pressed into his skin enough to draw blood, then she retreated and stood a few feet back. The blood slowly dripped down his neck, yet he kept his hands resigned against his bent knees.

She turned away from him, holding in tears, nauseated and dizzy. Then she took one last look at him as he met her eyes. Still, there was nothing, as if the waters had frozen over. Sheathing her dagger, she walked out of the barn.

Evening had come. Fog was settling over the fields of crops. Halbrand found Galadriel sitting on broken-off part of a fallen tree, near the edge of the forest. The waning sunshine drifted through the trees, bathing the forest in a misty haze. She was staring at her unsheathed dagger, turning it over in her hand, dark blood now dried on the blade. He sat beside her.

“Thank you,” she said, “for pulling me back.”

“You pulled me back first.”

As dusk set, they were welcomed into a villager’s house to stay. They sat quietly on the ground, each left to their own thoughts. Images of the elf she once knew chained in the barn kept replaying over and over again in her mind, while her reason fought against itself to know how all this came to be.

“What happened?” She looked at Halbrand. Already weary from their travels, the question took too much of her strength.

He was silent. The golden orange hue of the of the heath-fire danced off his profile.

“What did he do to you?” She laid her hand on his shoulder, desperate for answers. “You can tell me.”

Halbrand took a sharp inhale before turning to her. “Galadriel, sometimes there are wounds too great to be spoken of.”

His response hurt more than if he had just told her. Now she was left to imagine. “Whatever it is he did to you,” she offered, “and whatever it was you did, be free of it.”

“I never believed I could be,” he gazed into the fire, “until today. Fighting at your side, I felt- if I could just hold onto that feeling, keep me with it always, bind it to my very being, then I…”

“I felt it too.” 

Halbrand looked over at her, the light of the fire illuminating him among the dark room. She stood and went into the kitchen, and took out her dagger to pour some water on the blade before scraping off the blood with a cloth. She recalled earlier in their journey when they rode horseback together across open plane, the cool summer breeze whipping her hair, the sun bathing the lands in evening light. It was the closest she’d felt to flying. Now, her whole being and body was weighed and twisted with grief. She returned to where Halbrand was sitting still around the heath, though she felt no warmth from it. For the first time in centuries, she spoke of Celeborn. She told him of the war, and when he was lost.

“I thought him dead for the longest time,” she told Halbrand.

“And now?”

“I’m not sure anymore.”

She wondered if he could see through her. Looking back, perhaps he did.

Day had come again. Upon Galadriel’s order, the Númenorean men killed the several orcs they had taken prisoner. The men dragged the bodies into an area beside the meadows which was barren and without any brush to burn them. Smoke rose up into the summer sky and the burnt smell tinged the formerly fragrant meadow air.

Halbrand had taken to speaking with young men of Númenor who had come as aid, and offered his assistance with ordinary dealings to help recuperate the soldiers and villagers. There was a feast to celebrate their victory and the death of their aggressors. Still Adar was chained in the barn. Númenorean guards stood post outside. Nobody brought him food nor drink. They did, however, routinely check if he was still alive, as he had taken to laying on the ground in silence. One guard told that he had seen the prisoner crying quietly.

Halbrand had advised the Númenorean commander against announcing his kingship over these lands. She did as he asked, though not without question from Galadriel.

She had kept herself to providing advice and training for the soldiers; yet had not once stepped back into the barn, unable to bring herself to face him again. She suffered his death once. And now, she found out that he had not truly died but lived on in a state worse than death; his body lived on, while his memory was lost and his heart poisoned. She rehearsed many questions and ways to talk to him, but never gathered enough strength to confront him.

Days passed, yet the Southlands were not won. Soon more orcs were were sent to attempt a rescue for their commander, and many neighboring villages were pillaged. They were outnumbered beyond count. And the burning mountain Orodruin once again bled fire and smoke. Many died in the flame, and a great deal more died afterwards in the ash-covered land and by the hands of orcs.

Galadriel had watched, before leaving with the rest of her company, as fire encapsulated the village and the place where Adar was held. A thought sprung forth from her heart, to run into the flame and save him. Instead, she turned on her horse and fled.

If there be hope for him, the Valar would preserve his life. Thus she abandoned him to fate. She left the Southlands to Eregion, where she dwelt with her cousin Celebrimbor. Halbrand was welcomed there. It was beyond her why he abandoned his lands soon after Mordor had been reclaimed by darkness. Now more than ever did the Southlands need their king. Halbrand told her he was yet unfit for kingship and had much to learn. So she had sent him to Lindon to be trained in the ways of Elven fighting, but not after long he decided to return to Eregion and take up apprenticeship under Celebrimbor.

Galadriel’s search for her husband ended once she met Adar. She withdrew parties still searching for survivors within his troops. Mostly, she feared what would be discovered. If her husband’s fate was as terrible as it is, she dared not consider what happened to the rest of the soldiers. Fear dwelt in those gaps of knowledge.

Galadriel remained in Eregion. Though she spent greater time of days and years pouring over histories and legends, she did not loose sight of her enemy. More than ever was she determined to put an end to Sauron and all that remained of the echo of Morgoth.

Seasons came and went. The records in the great library and its histories had run dry. There was no king of the Southlands. When she went to confront Halbrand, she had found he had already departed from Eregion.

She sent armed search parties out to find him. They searched for years, scouring elven lands and beyond. No trace could be found of him. After twenty years she abandoned her search of the southlander.

She caught rumors that the nameless commander become known as the Lord of the Orcs. Darkness spread across the Southlands, into the villages and forests beyond Mordor. Yet there was no word of Sauron, nor of any other commander of orcs in Middle-earth.

Elrond would pry her. She would remain silent. And soon the passage of time made her secret too great to reveal now. The memory of her husband among the Elves was honorable. She couldn’t bring herself to shatter their perception of him, and therefore her. Especially after years of keeping such knowledge to herself.

The pain of Adar’s return sowed seeds of sorrow; while the furrows were tended to by grief in the desolation of her heart.

“Why did you return rather than pass over Sea?” Celebrimbor asked her once, in his forge at Ost-in-Edhil.

“Angrod is gone, and Aegnor is gone, and Felagund is no more, nor is the one I once called my beloved. Of Finarfin’s children I am the last. But my heart is still proud. What wrong did the golden house of Finarfin do that I should ask the pardon of the Valar, or be content with an isle in the sea? Here I am mightier. There is much work to be done yet in Middle-earth.”

She departed Eregion and dwelt in Lothlórien, where she was welcomed by King Amroth. Sadness imbed itself so deep in her soul that she was indistinguishable from the tragedies she’d endured. Yet, she let not her years be wasted. Her life brimmed with the promise of meaning, the dawn-light of possibility. Years were spent in employ of the High-King, as well as dealing with matters of the Galadhrim elves of Lothlórien. Still, she sent out soldiers every few years to look for signs of the Dark Lord, though she did not clarify the intentions of their mission.

The ever flowing passage of time kept on. The seeds, watered by tears, soon sprung forth an ache which spread from heart to bone. She had not known darkness before coming to Middle Earth. Now, her naivety and softness had grown cold.

As the world resigns itself to a blue-grey once the shadows of dusk sweep over, so her heart had resigned itself to sorrow.

[queerespresso]

🎳 #Kant Thoughts 💭

🌙 My own perspective, it’s all good if you don’t agree. I’m less focused on morality. I’ve accepted they’re grey.

🎬 TheHeartKillersEp4

🎳 First Kanaphan as Kant

⚖️ He’s so interesting. You can see his first instinct is to take control of a situation and maybe lead people but he’s resigned to it. He feels weighed down by having taken on the parental role for his brother. While he didn’t ask for this role, he’s trying hard. Babe can tell Kant is stressed and takes on a lot , so considers the financial aspects of not going to the doctor. But Kant reassures him he pays for his health insurance in a light hearted way to make Babe feel better. 100% I know for sure, he needs a break. A long vacation on the ���️ I found it endearing later on when Kant saw the homoph*bic remarks on sns and his initial reaction was essentially “I’m gonna go beat these little sh*ts.”. Bison held him back and was the voice of reason. They really match other 😂

💸 I could be projecting as I saw myself a bit. Nevertheless these write ups are for me to look back on so I can project lol. As someone who’s been in poverty and now has an appreciation for having control over my space and aesthetics. Kant and money are interesting to me. He was desperate enough for it at one point to go an illegal route that could have jeopardized him and his brother’s life (I do not blame him, I grew up in a place where this is common). Yet, now I’m presuming he’s making enough money to afford luxury accessories and house decor (unless they’re dupes). His brother clearly has echos of their financial state. Because of all this, is Kant good with money? Like does he save or does he splurge. Pondering this…

❣️It’s hard for me to use his reactions to Bison as an example for anything as it’s hard to tell if he’s exaggerating his real self, completely acting or being authentic. Of course when he 😬 faces it’s obvious he’s not acting but when he shows care, that’s when it’s hard to tell what’s genuine or not. Funny enough, I view Kant the most genuinely caring when his face reflects worry, not affection at the moment. I also think he’s acting AS WELL when talking to Style about putting Fadel and Bison in jail being “all he cares about”. Kant is avoidannnnnt..and that includes with his true feelings. I think this is a characteristic Style and him share. They have personality fronts that are larger with more ego to hide their vulnerability. In some ways, I don’t think he means to, but this is why he didn’t notice the bruises for Babe. I think he legitimately didn’t notice them because he’s trying to navigate life superficially to cope. Bison encouraged him to *see* and get real about his brothers situation and that’s a very vulnerable experience to share. My heart is gonna drop as I’m confident his love will hit him full force later and maybe at a bad time. Also, just like Bison is perceptive, so is Kant when directly talking with the person. Kant’s 🙃 face when Bison is interrogating him clues him in that Bison is suspicious. Now that they’re both a bit clued in, curious.

🔎 Him investigating…how did he even successfully do this for the cops the last time? 👀 😂 I watched him scour Bison’s room and he took a picture of the BDSM drawer and skipped the IPad? You’d think there’d be more information on there. AND took pictures of the northern lights art? Call me delulu, but his investigating is tinged with bias for Bison even if he doesn’t realize it. Also, I know it could be for more investigating, but Fadel pushing Kant out yet Kant insisting he stay to take care of Bison..interesting. Taking care of a drunk person isn’t fun. Whether he’s willing to do that for the investigation or Bison’s sake, that’s a task so kudos 🙌 Also very caretaker of him.Lastly, taking what I assume is Bisons’s engraved army knife (?) at the beginning feels like a move that’ll bite him later. I feel like that was from Bison’s real parents or something and will be noticed. Hoping I’m wrong 🫠

[thedo0zyslider]

Naked, The Night Falls - 4k Words

One day, a virus begins to spread throughout a sleepy little town, and no one is sure how to stop it.

A03

It all started one day, a day like any other. It was a perfectly normal day, Martyn remembered that much at least. The skies were blue, the summer air was warm, and everything was running as it normally did. As it should. It had all been so…so normal , just like the everyday life they had all become accustomed to before the world ended.

Which is why it was so shocking when it did, inevitably, end. It’s just that no one had expected their sleepy little community to be the start of it all. Also, no one really expects the world to end on a random Tuesday either.

It all started with a virus, the strangest one he'd ever seen or heard of. One that seemingly came out of nowhere really, and struck faster than anyone could've predicted. 

But all that is for later. For now, Martyn needs to not dwell on the past. For now he needs to focus on the present, and surviving. Because living is not an option, when your town is all run down and battered from two months of the apocalypse. Maybe it’s three now, he hasn't checked the calendar for a while. But that’s not the point. The point of today is to survive again, because living isn’t an option anymore. The point of today is to avoid the zombies, as they’ve started to call them. Them being the ones infected by the virus.

It has not killed them wholly, like the word zombie would suggest. It had merely just started to run their body for them. Everyone infected with the virus is still alive and breathing, a pulse still beating underneath their skin. Their personalities are just different, not their own. Well, sometimes they act the same. Other times they are filled with bloodlust and an urge to kill. And they can go from normal to violent in a second, so Maryn makes sure to stay well clear of them when he can. Even if he won't be attacked. 

For some reason, one he cannot even fathom, Martyn is immune to this vitus. The leader of the army had told him that herself. So he felt comfortable enough to walk around town for a little. Not to any of the survivors' living places of course, just to the grocery store and such, so he can scavenge for some more food. Which is what he'll be heading out to do, as soon as he gets ready for the day. 

Martyn signs, finally propping himself out of bed for the morning. He needs a change of clothes, and a shower. Even if he does hate to use whatever hot water he has left. He digs through the drawers for something decent to wear, so he can pretend like everything is normal still, and heads into the bathroom for a quick shower. The blonde should also get some breakfast, probably, finish off those stale ass cheerios he'd been snacking on. 

Realistically, Martyn doesn't need to keep a schedule anymore. But he does so anyway, for some false sense of normalcy. It helps keep him sane and grounded too, he thinks, which is very important in a situation like this. The faster you go insane, the faster you die. 

He gets out of the shower, finishes his breakfast, and steps outside into the warm autumn air. All of this had started in summer, and now it was fall, all their plans for those seasons having long been discarded. The town did not look like it normally did in the fall though. There were leaves littering the ground yes, but there were no halloween decorations being put up and no people outside to enjoy the last cool weather of the year. There was no one to keep said leaves in check, and they got everywhere and constantly flooded into the recently abandoned houses. Most of all, the place was eerily quiet, and clearly devoid of life. It made him long for the life that had been before, that had only been so recently stripped from his hands. 

Martyn doesn't know if this virus has spread outside their little town, or if it is contained in the forest around them. He doesn't know if anyone else is having a sad fall, or if it is just their small little world by the lake. Maybe it is waiting for everyone here to be infected, and then it will move on to rest in the world. He doesn't know, but a part of him wants to. The other part doesn't, unsure of what he'll do if the rest of civilization is a wasteland as well. Because that means there really is nothing left anymore.

Maybe, if it is truly stuck here, he can go and get help. 

…No. Surely not. They'd kill him before he even got halfway through the woods. The infected portal the forest like wolves, looking for any lost stragglers. He can only imagine how worse they would get if he tried an actual escape attempt; they're already antsy about him going to the damn lake. And the lake isn't even close to any escape route. 

Martyn sighs, and decides his walk to the stores and such will be slow today. He feels like reminiscing all of a sudden. He wants to remember today, where he is and what he has lost in these past few months. Hell, this past year. It’s nice to remember it sometimes, what there is left to survive for. And it all starts with the home he had just left, for it is not his.

He is currently staying in a house that is not his own. It is Ren’s house, someone who had gone missing almost a year ago now. Ren, who was his….his person, if you will. Whatever that means. Ren had just been someone very special to him, and now he is not here. 

Martyn is almost glad for that, because he's missing the virus.

He's in this house because his own is…..far too close to the virus's main base. It's quite literally on the same street, and even his supposed immunity doesn't even make him comfortable staying there. And also because he misses Ren greatly, even if he'll never admit that to himself. And there's a lot of extra clothes he can borrow, since he couldn't take all of his own. Some he's worn before and some he hasn't, but that's besides the point. 

He had lost more than Ren this year, regrettably. They all had. Not in the several people died tragically kinda way, the other one. Where you don’t really know if they are alive somewhere, but you hope with all your heart. And you also miss them like you’ve never missed anything before.

Three other people had gone missing as well, two months before this started. Lizzie, Jimmy, and Mumbo. In that order too. No one knows why, they had just vanished. Well, Jimmy and Lizzie claimed it was for some family thing, and Mumbo had given some bad reason for his departure. Maryun couldn't remember what it was specifically, but he knew it was a lie. He knew Mumbo, and the other two, well enough to know when they were lying. Everyone here did. 

So as far as their little community was concerned, the three had just vanished, never to be seen again. For the foreseeable future anyways. 

Martyn wonders if, somehow, they all knew what would happen here. He almost wishes he went with them, wherever they went. Martyn hopes, with all his heart, that they are safe and sound and not afraid like he is right now. Like the rest of the people here are.

He walks further along his path, and decides to stop focusing on things that make him sad. Instead Martyn wants to think about the happy times, from before all hell broke loose. To comfort himself, if nothing else on this cold and lonely walk to the store. The walk that should have been warm and lively and full of friends.

He's got a lot of fond memories with Jimmy specifically. Or Timmy, as he'd taken to calling him. That man was another one of his special people, but more in the found family sense. (Realistically, everyone in this town is important to him. But if Maryhn thinks about all the precious friends he'd lost to this virus, he thinks he's going to scream and cry. Which he doesn't really want to do right now.) 

The two of them had grown up together, along with Grian, BigB and Pearl. The latter being the only one the virus has taken; so far anyways. Lizzie, Jimmy’s older sister, had been there as well, but she hadn't been as close as their little group was to each other. All she was was the worried older sibling who chaporned them because she had to. Martyn liked Lizzie, really, she just had her group of people growing up, and they had theirs. 

Pearl and Grian were siblings as well, which left Martyn and BigB as the only children of the group. Though that didn't matter, all five of them felt like family anyways. That's what he thought about, as he managed through what used to be their old stomping grounds, years and years ago.

They had wanted to be police officers as kids, him and Tim had. They'd run around, calling themselves a bunch of silly nicknames. The Property Police. The Big Dogs. They were gonna be the best police duo in town, they had sworn it.

Then they grew up, and realized the cops were kinda shit. So that plan had been scrapped pretty quickly. 

Instead of being an officer, Martyn did stuff with the radio. It was only a part time thing, while he looked for something more permanent; something that filled his creative outlet more. Jimmy had worked at the nearby lake, doing….whatever people who worked with lakes and boats did. He quite enjoyed the job, more than Martyn had enjoyed the radio. As a result, their whole group had started frequenting the lake, even more than they had been before. It became known as Jimmy’s lake to them, replacing its former title of simply The Lake. They'd never cared for the official name as children, and that had stuck around into adulthood it seemed. Old habits die hard or whatever.  

But out here, sadly, there is no family. There is no friends, childhood or otherwise. There is only survive, and try to outrun the virus. There is only see the people who are like family to you rarely, because they want you to enjoy the damn freedom they cannot have. And also get them food so they can keep living, thats a big one as well.

Martyn is not anyone's ally out here. He is not a friend of the virus, and never would be in a million years. He was not a friend of the survivors either. As much as Martyn hated seeing more of his friends be taken, it was survival of the fittest out here. If they betray him, they get betrayed. If the virus offers him something in exchange for their hiding places, he will go along with it. Simple as that. Living is not an option anymore. Only survival is.

He walks closer to the main area of their little town, pondering allyships and enemies and the people’s faces he misses, and gets a little interrupted on his food run.

“Martyn!” A voice calls, far too friendly for who it's coming from. The forced cheerfulness almost sends a shiver down his spine. “How are you doing on this fine day?”

“Oh, hi Scar.” He responds, turning his head to the side. A few feet away stands Scar, his clothes more torn and matted then they had been a while ago. He's leaning over the fence, the one that surrounds his former trader business. It's no surprise that he's here really, since it is so close to the local grocers. For better sales, or whatever he had claimed when it had first been set up. 

“How are you?” Scar asks, placing a casual hand on his cheek and leaning on it. Martyn shifts, trying to match his energy. He doesn't want to seem all uncomfortable or anything. Not around the infected.

“I'm good, I'm good!” He smiles, keeping his posture relaxed the best he can. Even if all of Martyn’s nerves are screaming at him to bolt and run like a scared baby deer. Like some kinda coward, even if being a coward is justified here he thinks. “How about you?”

“Oh I'm just peachy Martyn! Just peachy!.” The brunette hums, giving him a wide smile in return. A few days ago, that smile would have been strained but also comforting, in the familiar kinda way. Now it is eerie and worrisome to even get a glimpse off.

Scar is the last person to get infected, but also the most dangerous. The last and best soldier to be added to the army, as they've been saying. He was the virus's main target for weeks, and he had put up a damn good fight as well. But sadly you can't win 'em all, and Scar had been taken just two days ago. If he was anyone else, and less skilled with a bow than he was, Martyn would maybe be a little more at ease right now. The infected are usually fine…..until they get their first kill that is. 

His normal attitude seems to be enchanted ever since the virus took him. Scar wears that fake cheerness all the time, like a mask he cannot take off. His smiles are all nice and sweet, but something sinister always lurks beneath the surface. The blood stained to his teeth, likely his own, doesn't help that. It is often that Martyn longs for the old Scar, like he does for all his taken friends. 

“How's Pearl? And….the rest of them?” Martyn asks, shoving his hands into his pockets. He can feel himself growing uneasy by the minute, and needs to halt all of that. He can shake and shiver like a scared dog when is alone once again. For now he needs to be strong, for just a few minutes longer, he needs to be strong. For now he needs to know how Pearl is, even if she is gone. He needs to know how his chosen sister is, above anything else right now.

“Oh she's doing spectacular! Said she misses you quite a lot, and just wishes you could come to this side!” Scar says with a clap of his hands, his eyes lighting up at the mention of his teammates. “The others are doing good as well, but you only asked to be polite. Didn't you?” The brunette's voice takes on a rather scary edge there, and Martyn tries not to shiver at it.

“Yeah. Kinda.” He admits, shuffling his weight from side to side. He knows Scar can see how skittish he is, since he's done such a shit job at hiding it. But the other seems unbothered by it, he even seems to relish it in fact. So thankfully, the tense atmosphere between them does not shift, to the blonde's great relief.

“I'll tell her she's missed!” Scar says, the damn smile growing even wider everytime he opens his mouth. “You could always come visit, ya know?” 

“I'll think about it.” Martyn hums. He's unconsciously moved further away from the fence, and a few inches closer to his original destination. Scar seems to have followed him, exactly like a shadow would.

“Gem likes talkin’ to you, said she wants another chat.” Scar continues, never taking his eyes off the other. Like he was in a horror movie or something. Which they might as well be at this point. (Oh if only this was all fiction, and he could have his late summer days and early autumn evenings back, just like they used to be….)

“Oh, yeah. I'll…consider it.” Martyn says, stuff as ever. He normally loves talking to Gem. he has not wanted to talk to Gem, or whatever is masquerading as her, for a good three months now.

“Why not today?” Scar asks, moving closer. Martyn takes an unconscious step back. He just wants to get to the goddamn grocery store, not be harassed by some weird zombie-human mix of a man.

“I'm busy today, sorry.” He says, averting his gaze for the first time this whole conversation. Right after he does that, Scar moves like lightning. The latest soldier is now right in front of him, blocking the path. Now Martyn cannot see anything but be face to face with that horrible little expression he always wears since two days ago. 

“With what?” The zombie asks, his eerie gaze now sparked with intrigue. The blonde tries his best to not gulp nervously.

“Getting food. I'm low again.” He says simply, keeping his voice as level as possible. This conversation is about to get very…slippery, to say the least. This could all go very south, depending on how the other man chooses to interpret this. If the brunette believes him or not.

“You were low two days ago.” Scar comments, and of course he knows that. Of course. They were together when he’d been taken, the day Martyn had found out he was immune. They had run into each other right around this spot, and had been ambushed by the horde. So of course he knew. Of course he did.

“You're not…helping those little rascals are you?” The soldier hums, narrowing his eyes at Martyn. The blonde takes another step back, and then another and another, and is matched pace for pace every single time.

“No.” He lies. Quick and easy, like it's breathing to him. Because it might as well be, at this point in his traitorous little life.

“Don't lie to me Martyn.” Scar threatens, his voice sickly sweet. Martyn stands his ground, letting the shiver pass over him. Sick delight flashes across the zombie’s expression once he notices it  “You might be immune to the virus, but you're not immune to death.” 

“Why would I lie to my good friend Scar?”

“Then why are you out of food again?” Scar asks, his hand dropping to his side. Martyn stiffens just a little. He knows what resides there, a sword probably. Or a bow and arrow if he's really unlucky. And well, he has been giving food to the rest of the survivors. The blonde dropped off some just the day before in fact. But if Scat knows that…..this won't end well for him. 

“Because I was starving myself before.” Martyn lies again. He hadn’t, he'd given all the fresh produce and meat he had to Cleo yesterday. But Scar couldn’t know, so he wouldn't. A little white lie never hurt anyone, after all. “Was too scared to go out, y'know? Before I knew about the immunity.”

“Ah, I see, I see….” Scar takes a few steps back, his hand moving away from where his weapon probably is. The blonde holds back a sigh of relief at that, because he knows he cannot yet relax.

Martyn finds it is suddenly very cold out. He best get going, before the weather (and the man in front of him) gets colder.

“I best be going now Scar.” He says as casually as possible, watching the other retreat back to his trader store. Before rejoining his possessed little army in a few hours, probably. Nothing could be helped about that, even if he would like to take that whole lot and keep them fifty million feet away from each other for the rest of time.

“Yes yes! Go get some more rations! Wouldn’t want you to starve on us, now would we!” Scar says, all fake smiles and cheer. He looks ready to leave as well, but the brunette does not move. Instead he stands there, still, watching, his bright green gaze burning into his old friend's back. “Hehe, yeah.” Martyn says. He turns away from Scar, even if that is a bad decision, Maybe it’s because he still sees the human in the army’s newest recruit. Maybe it's because they were together when it happened. Maybe it’s because he feels bad. Maybe its because he is a fool who cares too much. Whatever it is, he is an idiot for doing that, and feeling that in an apocalypse. Which is why he says what he says next, against every logical part of his head left telling him not too.

“I leave some stuff for you guys. In a box by the door.”

“You what..?” Scar says, his gaze burning a hole into the back of Martyn's head. There is disbelief in his tone, and the blonde almost chuckles at it. 

“In a box by the door, I write a little note and leave whatever food I don’t like for the army.” He continues, shoving his hands even further in his pockets. These are pretty deep pants pockets, after all. He thinks these joggers are Rens. Maybe because he cannot tell their clothes apart any more after three months of stealing them. “Or if I see one of you guy’s favorites I…toss it in there.”

“We don’t really need food, ya know.” The zombie points out. His voice, for the first time since the infection, sounds uncertain. Martyn holds back a smile at that, even if his possessed friend would not be able to see it anyways. He has finally put the virus out of its comfort zone, and he did it with his dumb human emotions. 

“I know, I just…thought your body might still want it at the start. And that you could still enjoy the taste…” He explains further, his gaze fixed on one of the random buildings ahead. He thinks one is the grocer, or maybe Cleo’s old palace. “Just makes me feel better is all.”

“Has anyone been taking it?” Scar hums, trying to sound nonchalant. Keyword is trying, because the virus is struggling to keep his humanity in check. There is nothing nonchalant about this whole conversation.

“Yes, it depends on who last stops by. Impulse wrote me back last.” Martyn says, thinking of that last note with a smile. It had been so cheerful, he would think the real Impulse wrote it. He isn’t such a fool all the time though, don’t worry.

“T-that’s…very sweet, Martyn.” Scar's voice sounds…weird when he next speaks. Like the human left in him is trying to break through to reach out, but the virus inside won't let it. like it's keeping him at bay. Martyn can barely choke out his next words after hearing it. 

“Sure…whatever.”

He turns his head to utter a final goodbye, but Scar is already gone. Vanished into the day without a single trace. Not even a proper goodbye. Lord knows when they'll see each other again…

Well, he better get to the store then.

No one else shows up to chat for the rest of the journey there and back, to Martyn's great relief. The faster and less scary his chores are, the better. 

When he gets there, the grocery store is just as he'd left it. Cold and abandoned, like the rest of the town. He takes what he needs, only shuffling through a certain number of supplies at a time. He will leave some for the other survivors, and take some to keep in his fridge back at Ren’s. This place doesn't have power anymore, and his place does. All the perishables, and other things that might expire soon, will need to be saved. Especially the meat, if any of them want to make it through the winter. 

On his way out, he drops more stuff into the gift box from the army. Some chips he doesn't like, but knows Bdubs’ adores. Some near expired candy from Impulse, the brand that's his favorite; if he remembers correctly from their college days. He takes some sunflowers from the gardening section outside, jotting down on his weekly note that they were for Scar. These are probably the last ones to bloom this season, so best admire them will they can. Plus, the flowers had been on his outfit, and always around his home. Martyn hopes he'll quite like them. Also, it would feel bad to tell him about the box, and then proceed to not leave anything for him.

Martyn hums an old radio jingle, one he learned from his earlier years in the business, as he finishes his supply run for the day. As he carries his own bags of groceries out, full of whatever fruits and such he'd managed to salvage this time, something rather interesting catches his eye.

Next to the box he sees a little note, one that is not his own. One written on a blue sticky note. He tears it off with another hum, reading over it as quickly as he can. It'd be a shame to let the army find it, after all, and ruin their secret little correspondence. As he reads, Martyn realizes that the note is in a handwriting he knows well, its author asking him to meet by the lake the next day.

Martyn has his plans for tomorrow then. If no one is lurking around the lake, that is. Hopefully the army can take a break for just a few simple hours….

He does quite miss seeing Bigb.