#because i can make a job out of this newer art form to me that ive fallen in love with | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dzpenumbra · 2 years

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3/1/23

Well shit, I guess it's March, huh.

I, yet again, did not get a good night's sleep. I might as well get this out. I wrote a comment on a post on an artist's group on Reddit. They were in a similar position to me. All-in on art, 7+ years no other work history, battling with mental health. They were saying they were worried they would have to get other work, another job.

I wrote a whole thing, several paragraphs, you know how I am. I just.. wrote from a place of being able to deeply relate. And a bit bitterness because this isn't really a thing with a lot of careers. For some reason, art, which used to be one of the most revered and sacred professions since before we even invented spoken language... is viewed as a child's hobby now, in many circles. As in, it's not viewed as a legitimate, sustainable career. And modern western society is most definitely not built to sustain fine art as a career. No-sir-ee. Modern western society is built to turn fine artists into contractual laborers, who supervisors and tacticians can use for profit. Like pieces on a factory line. Like Assemblers in Factorio.

It's a really fucked up thing in the end, because they're so short-sighted that they genuinely can't see why their corner-cutting and exploitative practices don't work the way they want them to. They want to emulate art. They want to create the illusion of art. Of passion. Of vision. Picture acid-washed jeans. That. But with passion, with inspiration, with vision, with a personal message. But, as with most of western society, they are always looking forward. They try to emulate the end result. They try to emulate the product.

It's a very industrial concept, like China reverse engineering iPhones to make clones. It works in that industry. And you see it in gaming a lot, when a big soulless company buys out a small indie passion project, then they release a cheap straw-filled scarecrow wearing that indie game's skin. They try to emulate what a good game looks like, what it feels like, what it sounds like. But it's just an imitation.

I found that in watching a lot of streams of newer games. If you see a chat saying "oh wow, that's just like BioShock" or "oh wow, that's just like Minecraft" or "oh wow, that's just like Call of Duty". Then you know that game is not really standing on it's own two feet. And they can get by, and make a good product... but you will rarely find art this way. Those games, art games, legendary games... some may start as "wow, this is just like ____" but they quickly break free and have their own unique, memorable experience.

Fine art is the purest form of this "lightning in a bottle" I know. And it's different for everyone. My form is trying to capture my inspiration, my passion, things that are incredibly meaningful to me, in whatever medium feels right, even if I don't know how to work in that medium. The picture in my profile here, or whatever, idk what it's called. The Barred Owl. I have a few incredibly vivid memories of that bird. One, I was going up the mountain with my friend to find a bar we were told about that had pool tables. There was nothing to do at night in our town, so we were searching for the holy grail, essentially. It really felt like a quest, you know? And we end up on this dirt road in the middle of nowhere at like 10PM and neither of us know where we are, and this is before GPS and all that, of course. And we're driving along and up ahead we see... these fucking figures in the middle of the road. I'm serious, this was like... horror movie shit. Like I thought they were kids wearing the same hoodies with the hood up at first, it was really weird and surreal. Like a fairy tale or something. And there were like... 5 of them? As we got closer they seemed like they were around like 1.5-2 feet tall, and we started to suss out that they were Barred owls. Just standing in the middle of the fucking road, with us coasting towards them with the headlights on and the windows open. They were just... dead silent. And as we crawled towards them, they inched to the side and let us pass, but like stared directly at us as we passed, heads on a swivel. And I was really sketched out having the windows open, I was convinced they were going to like attack me or something, they were like... a foot away from me. It was really scary. Then right as we passed by, they scattered and they started flying tree-to-tree behind us, following us. Some overtaking us and perching in trees ahead, the rest following behind, swooping from tree to tree. It was nuts. We never found the place either, never even figured out if we were on the right road.

The other owl story was from my post-breakup days, the summer after, when I revisited my hippie self - who is firmly hybridized in my personality now, thank god. I kept getting the image of owls come to me in dreams, and I tried to do some kind of spirit guide meditation thing, like a summoning ritual or some shit (as though I've ever really needed that, good lord, they seek me out constantly) and I kept getting images of Barred Owls popping into my head. Just the head, for a long time. It's a very distinct face. And that summer, I had a family of Barred Owls hunt in my neighborhood at night. Maybe they'd always been there? Maybe I was just starting to go outside more, and finally heard them. But I lived right next to a pond and I would hear them calling to each other and coordinating. And I could hear them relocate from the north eastern corner across the pond... to the south eastern corner... then through the woods on the southern side, then looping around to where I lived on the western side. And they'd sometimes do a really slow loop, like over the course of hours, and sometimes they would just stay on the eastern side and then head out or go quiet. So, I started working on my owl call. Someone taught me how to do an owl call with my hands when I was really young, I've always remembered how to do it, I'm just very rusty. And I started to get it back really well that summer. And one night, I decided to call them. Just to see what happened. The cool part is, the leader (or whatever, I don't really know how their psychology works) had a distinctly different call. It's hard to articulate how, but when I heard it I knew it was them. And that one responded to me. And I went back and forth with them for a few calls. And then they went silent. They were across the pond (like a soccer pitch sized pond, not huge), on the eastern side, directly across. And after about 5 minutes of silence, I called again, and I got an immediate response from the leader... from due south. They had relocated. Then I heard a call to my north, a bit closer. That... was a very unique feeling. Then I called back, and the leader was a bit closer, and one or two other calls from varying locations. They had split up, and were coordinating locations. They were... surrounding me... I should mention at this point, I had no porch lights and a pretty poorly lit home. It was super dark at night. Like... super dark. Like walk out to the edge of the fenced-in yard and you can't see your hand in front of your face on a new moon. There was definitely moonlight that night though, I remember distinctly summoning my courage and walking out to the fence (about 30 feet from my porch, as though the roofed porch was "safer" or something...) and being able to see a tree about 10 feet away from me. So... decent visibility. And I called again, but got no response. And then one last time, and I got a response from the leader... I still don't know if they were in the tree 10 feet in front of me or the tree behind it, but they were fucking loud. Like, they were right there. Like... it made me freeze up a bit. But I got really excited at the same time. But like... it was one of those feelings, like... this animal and it's entire family can see me clear as day. And I can't see or hear a single one of them. And they're predators. So there's something very instinctual about that, it's a very unique feeling. But the coolest part about that scenario, I had summoned them, and they willfully sought me out. But having them that close? It freaked me out a little too much, and I headed back in.

So... my point with these stories? That's what Barred Owl means to me. And so much more. It's not just something cool to draw (I mean it's that too...), it's a deeply personal part of my life. And the act of drawing that piece? I streamed it. I streamed the entire process, start to finish, it took like... 40 hours total. And I met some cool people while I was doing that, and we talked about a lot of important life stuff. Point being, that piece wasn't something commissioned off some random dude on Fiverr. That piece wasn't focus grouped in a graphic design or illustration firm, then tasked to the most capable illustrator, then sent to print, mass produced and available on-demand as a postcard or a t-shirt. It's something special. Made by me, with my memories in it, with my emotions in it, with my skin oil in the paper. It's an artifact of a memory, or a concept. Or both.

So... when someone says... go get a job working for someone else, in a related field? It's like... they come from another world. It's like they don't even understand what this life or profession is. It's like they interchange "logo designer" or "basket weaver" or "candle maker" or "landscape painter" and they throw them all in the same pile and label it "not-normal jobs". Or "not real jobs". Or "hobbies". Usually "hobbies". It upsets me so deeply. Not just because I have devoted so much of my life to this, but because... I love these things so much. This way of living so much. This way of looking at the world. It's my everyday experience. I see art everywhere. I see art in the architecture of my building. I see wooden beams from different eras, some machined, some seemingly hand-hewed, at least in parts. I see brickwork that is quite old. And I envision the people constructing this building back... probably 100 years ago? Maybe even earlier. Let me google real quick. Yeah, it was originally constructed in 1880. 143 years. 143 years ago, some dudes were mixing mortar and placing bricks to make a gigantic mill. There are relics of different time periods, different constructions; all telling a story, like a fantasy movie scene that plays out in my head. And I see stuff like that everywhere. And it fascinates me, and I want to share it with people. Because it makes life so much more deep, and rich, and romantic, and fascinating. Art and writing allow me to do that. For anyone who chooses to participate. Unfortunately, not many have been interested.

So yeah... all this... because some dude sent me a reply to my comment at like 3AM saying that the OP should get a "normal job". And I was fucking livid all day. I was surprised I feel asleep. And I woke up angry. And I carried that anger all day long, until like 5 or 6 PM, when I finally talked to my mom and was able to get those thoughts out.

An interesting thing happened when I was talking to her about art. I was telling her this, the stuff about how... like... I'm basically looking for private collectors. For these relics, essentially. These artifacts. I don't know what else to call what I make. I say art and people just roll their eyes. But they really are so much more than the end product, they are the product of intellectual exploration, of memory, of my personality. They are concept pieces, most of them. My necklace that I'm wearing now is a concept piece. It's a bloodstone centerpiece, which was a stone I was given at a very difficult time in my life, and I lost it. And it always upset me very deeply that I had lost it, and I always pledged to get a new one. Now it's the heart of my necklace, and sits right above my heart. The wooden beads are stained with my tattoo ink that I have injected permanently into my own skin. The large beads are Tiger's Eyes, which were my favorite stone as a child. And the filler beads are Black Obsidian which is cool, but also a pretty important mineral in the advancement of humankind. Maybe that's a reach, it doesn't have a ton of personal sentimental value, it was a later addition. I got it because it called to me. Because my eyes kept being drawn to it, and it fits perfectly in the necklace thematically. It's more than just... something thrown together because it looks pretty - which is respectable in its own right. Every single direction in it was picked deliberately. The rhythm and pattern of the beads. The number of square knots used for spacing. The transition into braiding at the end, to emulate my symbolic braided mohawk that I used to have, as a reminder of where I came from. Every step of it is intentional.

I was telling my mom about the stones I've been sanding and faceting, that she sent me from her driveway. Sounds silly when I say it that way, wait til you see what they look like now. They are absolutely gorgeous. And I'm like 80% sure some of them have tiny veins of silver in them. And I asked her... if I approached a gallery and I just told them "here, here are some stones that my mom was drawn to, that she sent me from her driveway, which I sanded by hand into these shapes that somewhat mimic their original organic forms, but take on their own unique geometry, which I sanded while I was caring for and then eventually grieving my beloved cat." I asked her... "do you think they would put this in a gallery if I told them that." And she took a minute... then she started telling me about a woman she knows who does a lot of stuff that I would be interested in - candlemaking, beekeeping, making soaps and stuff, you know... someone who would make my life fucking awesome if I were dating them. But she's married so, whatever. XD And she's a vet, a traditional and alternative vet. So she does all kinds of stuff, and... she said this woman might be interested in these pieces.

So... she asked me, "how are you going to package it? Or present it?" And I went... "I'm probably going to go up to her with the stones in my cupped hands and say 'you want them?'" And my brain started getting fuzzy and quiet. Like static or white noise or something. Meaning like... thoughts just started not being there, going blank, like I was getting really tired or something. And I told her, "I could like... put them in a box, or a bag or something, maybe she could put them in a fountain and the light could play off them or something? Whatever, once they're out of my hands it's up to them." And then from there on out, my brain was just... struggling to keep up. Very blank and slow and having difficulty focusing. And I really brought attention to this very transparently, saying "this is my problem". I have trouble even envisioning the scenario. I don't believe in my ability to make a successful sale. I don't like it. I don't like the process at all, and I don't believe I'm skilled in it, and I don't want to be. I would be more than glad to tell the insanely personal story behind them, and burst into tears in front of them, but figuring out money? Making a sale? I naturally reel. I naturally pull back and freeze up. And I literally froze up, which is what my mom helped me learn. My mind froze, I was having trouble thinking, I couldn't envision the scenario or any options of what to do, the whole white noise thing. My brain would just go blank of thoughts.

So... I'm gathering... this is not just... something I don't like or don't want to do... it's something that's actually triggering a panic response and sending me into "fight, flight, freeze, fawn" mode, and this is my "freeze". Earth element out of alignment? Meh, I don't know enough about that kinda stuff to even speculate, I understand the language of psychology much better. I just have more experience in that tongue. So... that's a bit of a problem... if you want to ever have a career doing anything ever... and you freeze up any time the topic of asking for money comes up. As an artist, this makes you a golden fucking target for scammers, especially if what you produce is valuable. But more than that, I just... never get a chance to even get started. Because I don't care if I sell my shit or not, in fact, in some ways... it even benefits me to not sell my shit. And I really just want my art to go to a good home, where someone really appreciates it and lets it run free in the yard and feeds it food scraps under the table when no one's looking. And I wish life could be that simple. That I make really cool shit for people who really want it, whatever they want, whenever, we'll work together and make it work. And I'll cook for them and entertain them, and tell stories and teach them what I've learned in my travels. In exchange, I don't have to worry about housing or food. That's all I really want. But I'm afraid I'm... about 4000 years too late for a life like that. Apparently that life is not available to me, and I need to get a "normal job" to make "money" to pay for things to stay "alive" so I don't "die on the street" and then maybe in my free time I can dick around with paints or whatever lame shit I do that no one actually cares about. Yay.

But yeah, identifying how bad that anxiety/panic mechanism is getting, and how... I had a complete blind spot for it. Like... I was insanely disoriented and had no idea why my brain was just going blank. Luckily, perspective from my mom helped me connect the dots. No wonder I've been so adamant to get help around that, I had no idea it was so bad, because I wasn't like... physically feeling the fear. Fight is a very unique feeling. Like boiling water or something, like pressure building. Flight is very... sharp. Tightness, tension, gripping. Fawn is weird, it's like a hollowness and then like... a release... when it's genuine. When it's a fake fawn, like... going along with what a scary person is doing... it can be more like flight but... I don't know, like... cold and spooky. I'm pretty well acquainted with fawn, unfortunately. But freeze... at least this one... This one barely even registered to me as a panic response. It was just like... emptiness. Stillness. Blank. So, like... I didn't even associate it as a feeling, an emotion, let alone Fear.

Fear is so weird, it takes so many wildly different forms of experience, yet it's all the same emotion. So odd.

So yeah, we wrapped up, got the electric skateboard ordered, hopefully it'll be shipping before too long. It seems like it's a final plan. I'm gonna be doing the skateboard and car share thing, that plan. Hopefully it goes well, if not, we'll just reconvene and talk options again. I'm cool with it.

Okay, I wanna get to this because it's getting really late, I had no idea I had so much to say tonight. I went skating tonight. I was debating between streaming or playing a new game, and I said fuck it and went skating instead. I'm really glad I did. As always!

I spent most of my time at the handicapped access sidewalk that has that plateau section that ramps down, so it basically makes a little natural kicker. I landed some pretty good ollies and a shuvit, and really went after 3 shuv for a long time. I got really close a few times but I never stuck it. Though I'm pretty sure I have landed it at that spot before. I packed in a flatground section and just practiced kickflips for a good half hour. It was exhausting. It's weird, but I think flatground is actually more tiring than skating a gentle hill and then climbing back up. It's hard to really tell which is worse, but I feel like flatground might be. Because you just... don't carry speed... so you end up having to run and push more. Just a theory. I landed one kickflip, out of probably... I don't know, if I was to hazard a guess, probably 30 attempts? Not a great ratio. But I was really focusing on something specific today. I watched this video from a pro skater on common mistakes skating, and noticed something that I do a lot snowskating that I don't do as much skateboarding (though I still do it, just not as much). Leaning my torso forward rather than squatting on anything that isn't a straight ollie. Even ollies I get that sometimes, especially when landing a drop. But I noticed it a ton on backside 180s and heelflips. Correcting this by keeping my weight above my board, keeping my hips and shoulders lined up more (thank you, yoga!) made me much more consistent in proper 3-shuv landings, I was just... having trouble focusing on catching the board. The path turned to solid ice really quick, so when I popped... it felt like trying to jump forwards while wearing skate shoes (flat bottomed, little grip) on an ice rink. Your balance just immediately goes fucky. So regaining balance, staying above the board and looking at the board for catch and foot placement was just... too much for me all at once while mid-air. The "look at the board" part was usually too late, because all these moving parts still haven't been committed to muscle memory yet. The foot position, riding and correcting balance, steer correction, the pop and flick, those are all committed pretty well to muscle memory, I don't have to think too much. I just go 3-shuv and my feet go to the right place. But weight placement, posture and looking at the board aren't intuitive yet.

The "squat, don't bend" method definitely made kickflips much more consistent, and they actually popped higher too, which was an unexpected bonus. But sticking them moving on very uneven terrain... it was a battle. But I landed one. And it was much higher than my other kickflips. It wasn't clean, but it was enough to call a land.

I started to head back... then I eyed the 6-set at the bottom of the hill. Yep. I was tempted. It's weird, it's diagonally angled, so... it's a little weird to hit it? It feels much bigger than it really is. I decided to set the goal of bombdropping it. And I refused to leave until I landed it. And I tried and tried and tried. Over a dozen times, easily. I ate shit on that over and over. I just couldn't get my balance right. Too far back, too far back, too far back, too far toe edge, too far forward. At one point, I spooked a young woman and her dog who were out walking, it was like... 11PM. I think I scared her a bit? I don't know. I tried to be friendly, but she just... seemed to want to keep walking. I get it, it's late at night, your dog's barking at me, I'm some dude with a weird board thing alone in a park wearing all black. Probably not the place she felt the most safe in the world. I tried to be really friendly, told her I used to have a german shepherd and it was cool, I wasn't upset by it or anything. Then wished her a good night. Then it was like... probably another 6 or 7 more tries. And I was so fucking close, I just kept sliding out. And I was just about to give up and getting so tired. And I just went, "I'm fucking landing it this time. And I'm just riding away." And I tried to envision it, like... envision what it feels like, what it looks like. Really get that in my head. Then just clear my head and immediately go. And I came really close but I didn't land it. So I bolted back up and just said. "Nope, this time. This is it. Just do it." And I ran, and jumped, and put the board under my feet, and... rode away. And I did it. And I scared the shit out of some dude across the street who was walking and didn't see me because of the sound of the board smacking the packed snow. And I was beaming.

It wasn't an ollie, but it was the biggest stairset I've ever done. And the only one bigger in the park is the 7-set above the flatground section. Talk about progression. I don't know if I'm brave enough to try to ollie that 6-set this winter. Ollieing is so different from bombdropping. I'll leave the option open... but... it spooks me.

But I'll tell ya, that first bombdrop on the stairset? That took a bit of pumping myself up to do it. I was tempted to just jump first, no board under me, but... I was actually worried that might do more damage than good. I feel like landing flat-footed with nothing to move your momentum... all the impact just goes to your static feet, right in the ankles. And I don't really know how to like... tuck and roll out of that to distribute momentum, especially with a phone in my pocket. I do know how to tuck and roll and slide out of landing on my board to distribute momentum, pretty well too. So I actually opted to just skip the test jump and go right to the first bombdrop. And that was... a literal leap of faith. It took a big "fuck it" to get me to override my survival instincts there. I often feel like a baby because there are kids half my age that jump down stairsets twice that big, and they don't even have snow to break their fall. But for me, it's spooky. For me, these sets are the biggest thing I've done. So... I'm gonna let myself have that fear. Because the fear = the challenge. And overcoming the challenge, conquering the fear = the reward. Otherwise, I'm kinda cheating myself out of progression just because others have progressed further in their own journeys... That's kinda silly.

I ended skating on that note, it was a great feeling. I am so glad I stuck it out and pushed the last few attempts. It was worth it!

#diary #journal #online journal #stream of consciousness #stream of thoughts

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baubabble · 4 years

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“Subtle Differences” Part II - Hotch x F!Reader

PART I FINAL PART

Summary: As you continue working the case in Seattle, you begin to notice more and more that Hotch is staying close to you. With the occasional glance, you start to think that maybe his feelings are real, but doubts start to creep up. When another woman goes missing, you and the team must connect the dots faster to save her and find the unsub before it’s too late.

Word Count: 3743

Warning: Typical CM Violence

Song I Wrote To: “Honest Man” by Ben Platt

Note: Ooh, part 2! This one is the “filler” i guess. Part three is when we get the team in action and a little more hotch x reader moments that I love. That should be up later this week! Also, I have watched this show A LOT, but presenting profiles isnt easy so i did my best. Also, the painting i reference is not real.

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The two of you worked in silence for a while as you tried to wrap your heads around the beginnings of a workable profile.

As you both sat alone in the conference room, you could occasionally feel Hotch glancing over at you, but you were determined to keep your focus on the task at hand. This wasn’t like him to keep somewhat distracted while at work. Then again, he was never one to really show any kind of interest outside of work either. Something had changed, but you weren’t what it was yet.

Half an hour later and Spencer and Rossi arrived. “Well, doesn’t this look cozy,” Rossi said as he pushed into the conference room, the doctor following right after.

You didn’t bother in acknowledging his snide comment as you continued to focus on the photos spread out before you on the board. Perotta had brought the maps Hotch had requested and Spencer immediately grabbed his red marker and began his geographical profile.

“All three victims were taken outside of very public places,” Spencer said, gaining the attention of the team. “Mason from outside a church she visited weekly, Rayna from a parking lot across from a major shopping center, and Lisa from outside the public library. Whoever the unsub is, he’s not afraid to take risks in the abduction.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” you asked, glancing around at your colleagues.

“It can be either,” said Reid, tucking his hands into his pockets. “However, considering that no witnesses have come forward, he must be using a rather convincing ruse.”

“Or he’s threatening them with a weapon,” Hotch added. Spencer nodded in agreement.

“Something else isn’t sitting well with me,” you revealed. “This method of killing...it seems like you would need to practice it before, right? Maybe not the wax on the body, but at least using it as a method of asphyxiation.”

“You think he’s done it before?” Rossi inquired.

“It’s a possibility,” you said. Hotch nodded and hit the call button on the phone.

“Speak and be heard!” Garcia said.

“Garcia, I need to know if there have been any other murders in the past that resemble the unsub’s method,” Hotch said.

“As in just the wax in the throat or the whole enchilada?” she asked, causing Rossi to smile.

“I think we would have noticed the rest of the ritual, so focus on just the method of killing,” you added.

“I will dig and dig until I can dig no longer. Hit you back!” Garcia said as she hung up.

As everyone got back to work, you got up to get yourself some much-needed caffeine. As you waited for it to brew, you tapped the pen in your hand against the countertop, trying to organize your thoughts. There had to be more to the killings instead of just replicating a piece of art. The woman in the painting had no discernible features so he wasn’t trying to get her exactly right. There had to be another reason for picking three different women from three different places. The mystery was gnawing at the back of your brain.

“You look like you’re overthinking.” You turned to see Perotta leaning in the doorway of the break room.

“Just thinking, actually,” you said, grabbing a cup and pouring your coffee. “There are just a lot of things that are bothering me about this one.”

“Don’t all of them bother you?” he asked with a slight chuckle. You shrugged.

“Unfortunately, you get used to it,” you said, moving past him. Perotta kept close to you.

“Have you always been in the BAU, Agent (Y/L/N)?” he asked, halting you in your step with a hand on your arm. You took a step back, letting his arm slide off of yours.

“No, I used to be a part of an anti-terrorism task force for a while before I transferred,” you explained. Perotta nodded thoughtfully.

“Wanted to get less action?” he asked, with a half-smile.

“More, actually,” Hotch said as he interrupted the two of you. Perotta turned to your boss and you saw him swallow thickly as Aaron Hotchner stared him down.

“Huh, who would’ve thought,” Perotta said, glancing back at you, but you kept your arms close to you and didn’t bother smiling back.

“The others are back,” Hotch said, pulling your attention. You nodded and turned away from Perotta. Hotch followed you back to the crowded conference room. He walked behind you, keeping a hand on the small of your back.

“Thank you,” you whispered to him, acknowledging his perfect timing.

“You’re welcome,” he murmured to you as he held open the door and waited for you to walk through before following afterward, letting his hand fall away. As you joined the rest of the team, you instantly knew something was up. Based on JJ’s concerned face, it wasn’t good.

“What happened?” you asked, taking your seat between Morgan and Hotch.

“The unsub has taken another woman,” Spencer revealed.

“Already?” you asked, surprised. “Lisa wasn’t even missing two days. The others were taken a week apart.”

“He’s increasing his abduction time,” Rossi said, flicking through the file.

“Most likely because he thinks he’s running out of time to perfect his replication of the original painting,” Reid said, twirling a pen around in his slender hands. “Though, I am still not sure what connects all the victims together.”

“I may have an answer for you, Doctor,” Garcia’s voice lit up the room from the phone in the center of the round table.

“What did you find out, Mama?” Derek asked.

“Well, honey, I have unearthed something rather interesting. All three of the victims were what you would call art connoisseurs. They all belonged to the same club that focused on fundraising for the arts and preserving historical pieces.”

“Garcia, is the membership for this club exclusive?” Spencer asked.

“Not at all. In fact, the list of members and donators are both available on the club’s website.”

“Considering he didn’t abduct them from their homes, he has to be getting their routines elsewhere,” you said.

“Do we have any information on the newest victim?” Prentiss asked.

“Her name is Allison Wilson, she’s twenty-four-years old from Port Angeles, and she was taken outside of her gym,” said Garcia.

“Another public place,” Rossi realized. “In the middle of the day too while cops are out in higher numbers. And we thought he was being bold before.”

“Was Allison a part of this art club, too?” Hotch asked.

“Yes,” Garcia confirmed. “A newer member from the looks of it as she just moved to the area.”

“Okay, well if they’re not getting their addresses from the site, then the unsub knows when and where they’ll be,” Prentiss said with a sigh. “Garcia do we have any idea how he’s getting their information?”

“Not yet, but I am working on it,” Penelope said. “I will hit you back once I figure it out,” Garcia said in goodbye and there was a collective sigh within the group.

“Okay,” Hotch said, “I think we have enough to deliver the profile.”

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Once Perotta had wrangled his officers, your team presented the profile.

“We’re looking for a white male in his early thirties,” Hotch began, pulling the whole room’s attention.

“We believe he has created a scenario in his mind based on a single work of art in which he sees himself as a sort of reaper type character,” Emily added.

“He is posing his victims in the same way as the woman depicted in the Italian painting. “Manto di cera” or “Shroud of Wax”,” Spence continued.

“The painting is set to be on full display at the Seattle Art Museum later this week,” you said, stepping forward. “We believe that the final victim he abducted, Allison Wilson, is going to be his final piece of art.”

“So, what was the point of the other three women?” An officer asked.

“Mason, Rayna, and Lisa can be considered his trial runs. All of it in order to perfect his masterpiece,” Rossi said.

“He is an unhinged individual and will not hesitate to do whatever it takes to make sure he gets what he wants,” Derek said. “You should consider him armed, dangerous, and not afraid to die by suicide or suicide by cop.”

“This unsub thinks of these women as less than human so there is a good chance that he has a negative history with one,” JJ added, “maybe a girlfriend or even his mother.”

“Whoever this man is, he is connected to the art community here in Seattle,” Hotch said, finishing up. “We’ve set up a tip line, but we are going to have to rely on his previous victims to locate him and Allison Wilson. Thank you.” Perotta then dispersed his officers and everyone got to work on trying to track down the unsub.

“(Y/N) was right, this guy has to have priors,” Morgan said once you and the rest of the team returned to the conference room. “There is no way that he just woke up one day and decided to kill. Not like this.”

“We should look for any non-lethal incidents,” Reid said, “he may have tried to strangle someone first.”

“I’ll get Garcia on it,” Hotch said as he hit the call button.

“Ready when you are,” Garcia answered.

“Garcia, I need you to look for any past police reports where female victims were strangled or suffocated. Not just crimes that seem similar to the wax," Hotch said, reading through the file again.

You watched as his brows pulled together and all you wanted to do was to reach out and smooth down the crease that had formed. You knew stress was all a part of the job, especially when it came to Aaron. He never got a break and when cases arose like this one where there were more questions than answers, it took its toll.

At that moment, you wished for a Hail Mary. You wanted to save Allison, of course, but a simple answer or even just a bit of good news would lessen the weight on Aaron's shoulders.

As if feeling your eyes on him, Hotch looked up. Your (Y/E/C) eyes met his dark ones and for a moment, it felt like you were the only two people in the room. His eyes glanced down your face for a fraction of a second before he looked away. You didn't even realize Penelope was speaking again.

"Okay, I've been running searches for both kinds of crimes that correlate with the profile, but so far, I got zilch," Garcia said.

"Great," JJ groaned, "another dead end."

“However, fear not, my friends, as I do have something else," added Garcia.

“You figured out where the wax came from?” Reid asked. You looked at him, unaware he had even asked her to look into that in the first place. You also realized that it was something you should have thought of yourself. Your frown didn’t go unnoticed by Morgan who lightly kicked your foot under the table. You nodded to him, assuring him you were alright.

“Not exactly,” Garcia said. “The wax itself is pretty generic. You can get it from multiple different suppliers, but the pigment used in it to make that blood-red color is not sold by the companies. It is an oxidized clay that is regulated and sold from a local artist and I have just sent his name and address to you...now!”

“Morgan, Prentiss,” Hotch addressed, “go pick up the owner and bring him back. JJ, Dave, get in touch with Allison Wilson’s family. Reid, (Y/L/N), keep working on trying to figure out how the unsub is finding his victims from the club.”

“What are you going to do?” Spencer asked.

“I’m going to call and get a warrant for the owners of the charity club,” Hotch said as he stood and exited the room, followed closely by the others.

You and Spencer sat in silence for a few minutes before he swiveled his chair in your direction. "Is there something going on with you?" Reid asked, peering at you over the knee he had propped up on his chair.

“What do you mean?” you asked, furrowing your brow.

“I don’t know, something just seems...different about you,” said Reid as he stared at you with that signature confused look of his.

“Don’t profile me, Spencer,” you said, leaning back in your chair.

“I’m not!” he said, “but I am your friend and I can tell there is something up.” You turned back towards, sighing. Spencer never missed anything.

“Hotch is keeping me under evaluation this case,” you said and he immediately understood.

“I know,” said Reid, “I had to do the same after getting shot. Emily had to do it too.”

“I feel like every move I make… I feel as if I am under a microscope.”

“It’s procedure, (Y/N). Look on the bright side, at least Strauss isn’t doing the evaluation,” Spencer said, trying to lighten the mood. That got you to smile and Reid brightened. “See, I knew I could make you do that,” he said, twirling his finger in front of your face. You playfully swatted his hand away.

“Thanks, Reid.”

“Anytime,” he said with a wink and got up to go stare at the board once again.

Looking out at the precinct through the glass walls, you could see Hotch in the Captain’s office. He paced while speaking on the phone. Spencer’s words resonated in your mind as you watched your boss. At first, you thought that maybe he had chosen to take on the responsibility of your evaluation to be closer to you, but now you weren’t so sure. What if it was just procedure after all and you were only reading into it? It wouldn’t be the first time that you read signals wrong. For being a profiler, when it came to your own love life, you could be pretty clueless.

Eventually, Hotch rejoined you and Reid. “Did you get the warrant?” Reid asked, looking over his shoulder as Hotch took a seat.

“Judge wouldn’t approve it,” Hotch sighed, “said because the website is public domain, anyone could have access and that it wasn’t enough probable cause to warrant a search and seizure.”

“Great,” you said, “so now we just have to hope the clay guy gives us something.”

“Do you think he’s a part of this?” Spencer asked. You shook your head.

“No, but he has to know something. Considering how much wax has been used, and not to mention Rossi believes the unsub had trial runs… He must have bought more pigment than the shop’s usual customers.”

“But why would he even leave a paper trail for something as easy as a red dye? You can practically make it out of anything?” Reid asked.

“Because not everyone is as smart as you, Reid,” you said and he smiled shyly, turning back to the board to start laying out the hunting grounds. You looked at Hotch and he was smiling at you, thankful for you praising the doctor. You quirked a brow in question but he just shook his head, returning to his work. You turned away before the blush that welled in your cheeks became more apparent.

“You guys need anything?” Perotta said as he pushed open the door and leaned in,

“We’re fine for now,” Hotch said, his tone filled with dismissal. Perotta pursed his lips, but nodded and left, letting the door swing shut behind him.

“I don’t like him,” Spencer said quietly, his back still turned to you and Hotch.

“I second that,” you muttered.

“You are both correct,” finished Hotch and Spencer slightly turned to look at you with amusement in your eyes. You couldn’t help the laugh that flew from your throat. Spencer chuckled quietly next to you as you tried to get yourself under control. Hotch watched you, completely enamored by the way your face lit up with a smile as you found him humorous. It was better than any drug he could think of, seeing that smile of yours.

------

It was a little less than an hour later that the others came back with the shop owner.

The man, Terry Owens, looked nervous as Morgan took him into the interrogation room. His demeanor alone as he walked into the station was enough for you to know immediately that this was not your unsub.

As JJ continued speaking with the Wilson family, you went to observe the interrogation. Spencer and Emily were going over new evidence while you stood next to Hotch on the other side of the two-way mirror. Morgan and Rossi entered the room, taking a seat across from Owens.

You watched closely as they asked their questions. You could tell that both Morgan and Rossi made the man nervous. He would flinch slightly any time Morgan raised his voice or Rossi shifted in his seat. You and Hotch didn’t say anything as you observed, but the closeness to him was tugging at your mind as you tried to stay focused.

You weren’t focusing on what your team members were asking the man, but rather how he responded to each question. Owens was sweating even though they chilled the room for him. He began slurring his words as he struggled to find answers for each inquiry thrown at him. When Rossi presented Owens with the crime scene photos, the shop owner nearly turned green. Pushing up his sleeves, he took slow breaths, trying to calm down. That is when you noticed the burn marks on his skin.

They were slight and faded, but from your time with anti-terrorism, you knew the signs of torture immediately. You turned to your boss. “Hotch, I think I know what’s going on,” you said.

“You saw something?” he asked softly.

“I think he’s been tortured by the unsub,” you explained. Hotch turned his attention back to the interrogation room for a moment before nodding at you. Sweeping past him, you entered the room. Morgan and Rossi looked at you and then got up and stood back, giving you room to work. “Hi, Terry,” you greeted with a warm smile. “I’m SSA (Y/L/N) and I think I know what happened to you.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked nervously.

“The marks on your arms,” you said, gesturing to the exposed skin. He looked down and his eyes closed as his jaw went rigid. “Terry, look at me.” He did. “Those burns are from hot wax, right?” Owens nodded. “He hurt you to get you to not talk to anyone. He poured the wax on you to make sure you knew that if you talked, you would end up like the women he was killing.”

“I didn’t know he was going to kill them,” Owens said. “Please, I just thought he was into something weird, you know? Like a fetish or some kind of performance art. I’ve seen things like that before. I never imagined…” he trailed off, his hands shaking. You reached out and placed your hands over his.

“You’re okay,” you promised him. “Terry, nobody is going to hurt you again. He is not going to be able to get to you anymore, but I need his name. He has another woman with him now. Her name is Allison and she’s only twenty-four-years old. She has a little sister named Cailey and a mom and dad who are worried sick about her. If we don’t find her, she’s going to end up like these women too.” You placed the other three photos before him again. “They didn’t deserve to die like this and neither does Allison Wilson.”

Owens met your eyes, nearly pleading. “I don’t know his name,” he said. “He always paid in cash and he threatened me anytime I asked any personal questions.”

“Is there anything you can tell me about him? The smallest thing can make a difference.” Owens thought for a moment before he straightened up.

“I once heard him on the phone,” he said. “I was preparing his new order and someone called him. He was talking to them on speaker and they didn’t say a name, but they called him by a nickname.”

“What was it?” you asked.

“Galahad,” Owens said.

“Like the Knights of the Roundtable?” you asked, turning over your shoulder to look at Morgan and Rossi, confused. Morgan, however, was shaking his head.

“That’s what Lisa Bracken’s neighbor called the delivery guy that delivered Lisa’s artwork,” Morgan said before he and Rossi were moving out the door. You turned back to Owens.

“You did great, Terry,” you said. “We’re gonna get him.” You didn’t wait for his response as you followed Morgan and Rossi back into the conference room.

“Hey, baby girl,” Morgan was already saying as you pushed through the door.

“Got something for me?” Garcia asked on the other line.

“The unsub is a delivery guy that delivers specialty art pieces. He works for Ground Express,” Morgan said.

“Okay that is a pretty big company, honey, you’re gonna have to give me a little bit more than that,” Penelope said.

“Garcia, look for drivers that are specifically assigned to the dumping zones. He may be dumping their bodies during a route,” Spencer said.

“Okay, one second…” she said as her hands flew over her keyboard. “Okay, I have four men that work that specific route. Two of them are way too young, the third is African American…” she paused for a second. “And the fourth fits our profile perfectly.”

“Garcia, I need a name,” you said.

“Alan Rhett,” Garcia announced. “He owned an apartment downtown but was evicted two months ago and now he rents a loft space in Belltown. Oh,” she said.

“What is it?” asked Rossi.

“He uses his own truck for deliveries and he hasn’t been to work in a few days.”

“Garcia, send us the address,” Hotch ordered.

“Already did,” she said. “Be safe, my friends, and go get him.”

“Will do, Mama,” Morgan said as he ended the call.

“Gear up,” Hotch said, “We’ll leave in five.” The team dispersed immediately. As you headed for the lockers to grab your vest, a phantom pain echoed through your injury site, but you took a deep breath and tried to center yourself. You were ready for the field, you had to be. Shutting out the echos of gunfire in your mind, you secured your sidearm and went to gear up. You weren’t going to let him kill another woman, not if you could help it.

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af1899 · 3 years

Text

FEH — So... Resplendent Serra

And well, here is a preview of her artwork:

Artist: Eihi

Thematic: Nifl

Links: JP Twitter thread / EN Twitter thread / [Feh Pass]'s website

Now, for my usual dump of thoughts. 🥴

Artwork

I'll start talking about the brand new art and style, I think it's super cute, it really is, and the Nifl theme feels right for her due to how the colors and features of Nifl clothing go along nicely with her and the natural white of a cleric's, and the cold effects in her special artwork further compliment it.

I certainly prefer it over the original, it's... fine, but I don't really dig the style, even though it did a good job capturing Serra's essence.

I rate the new art: 10/10

Choice

The next thing I'll cover is how good and well timed this pick for an upcoming Resplendent upgrade is.

And I got to say that having a healer get a Resplendent upgrade for the first time gives us hope for more to come soon or in a few months, it's also important for the variety, as it'd be nice to not to get a pattern repeating too often.

I think she came at a good time, out of the blue? Random? Yes, but welcome. Did I mention she never got an alt? And she's been around for years, since the early days of the game.

However, I think we could've had a healer from another game, The Blazing Blade last got one back in early August for Raven, three months of difference is still fine though, but I'm nitpicky when it comes to game choices.

I rate the choice: 9/10

Gameplay commentary

She's considered one of the worst healers in the game, and I can see why, specially due to all the powercreep there is nowadays; let's start with taking a look at her statline at 5★, Lv.40 and no permanent base stat boosts of any kind:

HP: 33

Att: 30

Spd: 31

Def: 21

Res: 33

BST: 148

And uhhh... certainly newer healers (even Emmeryn) will perform better than her, but who's to say you can't invest on your favorites? That's how I am, certainly, so don't feel to unencouraged to build her, the stat boosts will give her a little more competence among fellow healers who have similar statlines.

She has shaky offenses that will shine as you invest on her, and the Resplendent boost will solidify her overall while giving her a well earned aesthetic boost, I think something like what I run on Emmeryn would be nice on Serra too, but watch out for a potential refine if you haven't given her anything premium! So you can decide if her refine will be worth it and what works best with it, otherwise it's fine, I just hope no skill will feel like a waste to you later.

Here's the build I run on Emmeryn, you can copy it if you want:

Reaction

This is where I'll dump how I feel and reacted to this Resplendent upgrade overall.

I first found myself rather perplexed, I'm no big fan of her for starters (in fact I think she's a tad too annoying), I've been reading her wiki article and quotes for a recap since I haven't played The Blazing Blade in months and don't remember reading about her past, and I can see why she often acts up the way she does, yet that's why I also don't care about her or feel excited at all, about the "good" news, making of this upgrade just another skip. (Come on I.S., when are you guys giving Adult Tiki her alt and Resplendent upgrade? 😔)

Still, I agree that she's earned the spot here — and if you're a fan of her and are reading this, I do hope this new Resplendent upgrade has been your liking and that she's doing well for you, hopefully I.S. will also finally give her an alt among others that also deserve it.

The End

Thank you for sticking around and for any form of support you offer, it drives me to further share more content and I hope you've found anything useful or interesting to read.

Remember I have an [AMA] section where you can also ask questions, throw in feedback, etc. It's not anonymous though, because I don't feel confident to allow anonymous questions yet.

#feh #fe heroes #fire emblem heroes #FE Serra

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ask-brainysmurf · 3 years

Note

Greetings Brainy Smurf.

Spring is near, winter is coming to it's end. Since Crystal was injured because of a dare Snappy made that she couldn't climb a big rock, she's been stuck inside. I've been very busy and haven't had much time to spend with her. We're on our way home. Or at least where home used to be. I've gotten used to having so many other Smurfs around me all the time. Herbal said we're only going home to collect our things and then move to Smurf Village since it's presumably safer.

I don't know how to feel about that. For so long there was only me, Crystal, Seeder, Berry and Herbal as Smurfs in the world that we knew of.

Another thing, I'm an artist. I like to paint, woodwork,sculpting and pottery. Though I would be open to learning more art forms in the future.

Another thing. Why are there so many rules in Smurf Village? Papa Smurf says it's for safety but I don't know if I trust him yet. I've seen him injure other Smurfs before. He doesn't know that though. Herbal has never hit us and it's strange and uncomfortable and it makes me scared of Papa Smurf to an extent. I'm scared he will try to parent me when that is Herbal's job. He already lectured Crystal even though Herbal did so before him. He has tried to include us when he is reading to Snappy, Slouchy,Nat and Sasette on the other smurf.

I like Nat at least, he's not as loud as Snappy or as slow as Slouchy. Sasette is better since she learned better how I can communicate. She's more straightforward with how she's feeling with me and that's good. Though her catch phrases can be hard to understand at times.

Clumsy apparently came to visit Crystal yestersmurf. Probably talking about rocks. Crystal has this ability to make rocks and stones glow whatever colour she wants. I used to be jealous of her but we talked it out.

Papa Smurf has also been muttering about this ability for weeks now and I can't figure out why. Do you know since you know more about magic than I do?.

Sincerely

Colourful Smurfling

Dear Colourful Smurfling,

I didn't know that she climbed the rock because of a dare. That was very unsmurfy of Snappy Smurfling to do, and I hope Papa Smurf disciplined him appropriately.

I understand the confusion in meeting new Smurfs with strange customs, especially when you thought no other Smurfs were around. That's how I smurfed when I met the girls of Smurfy Grove. I don't smurf what I would have done if I'd had to move there!

Papa Smurf knows best, and his rules help protect the village and keep us Smurfs safe. As long as you aren't causing any trouble, there's no reason to be afraid of him! My version of Papa Smurf tends to be a lot less strict with newer additions to our village than he is with the original 95, but I'm not sure about the Papa you know. I would recommend talking to Herbal about your concerns, so she (he?) can talk to Papa and make it clear that although Papa may be in charge of the whole village, Herbal is the one in charge of you Smurflings. Perhaps if Papa has a problem with one of you, he can talk to Herbal about it, and Herbal can deal with the problem. Delegation and all of that smurf.

I'm glad Clumsy came to help out and keep Crystal company. He's so sweet and compassionate that way. As for Crystal's magic, it seems to be something on smurf with the magic Baby has, so it only makes sense Papa Smurf would be curious about it. It's a very curious thing.

Thank you for the letter.

Sincerely,

Brainy Smurf

#brainy smurf #ask blog #chrono tag #cch asks #snappy smurfling #papa smurf #clumsy smurf #baby smurf #(mentioned)

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goatpaste · 4 years

Text

WC design/headcannon/ect masterlist- Part B

another chunk of all the headcanos/AU’s/design notes/warrior names for kits and leaders never given a canon one/ect for all the wario cats!

this one is for all the B named cats!

info under the cut

Badgerfang

badgerfang i think a lot of us have a big ol soft spot for, but ought i really care him and his family i think it needs more than jusT the badgerfang death like for real

one of the biggest reasons i wanna learn to animate is because i wanna make a badgerfang and flintfang amv! it would be sdkg more about flintfang because i think he’s a neat character who has a lot of potential for development

like mAN you ever stop and think about not only was flintfang sad over badgerfangs death because it was sad, bUT also because badgerfang was his sisters kit AND to the thought of blackstar is flintfangs brother. flintfang had to deal with playing a hand in badgerfangs death then watch his brother loyally follow brokenstar, then tigerstar 🥺

Baypaw

baypaw was the first of his lil chunk of family i design, i didnt have a sorrelstripe design made yet so i ultimately decided to base his design on his grandpa Lionblaze. smaller fluffy lionblaze.

I know we should be coming up to baypaw getting their warrior name soon

i think a name like Baysong or Baygale

Beech Tail

the only thing i have to say is dgjksh when i designed the ‘beech’ prefix designs it was late and i totally went ‘beech... the beach’ and noT beech the tree sdjkgh. so i designed beech tail like that of a penguin sdjkgh

Beechfur

beechfur , riverclan warrior under mistystar’s leadership

i imagine beechfur is be EXTREMely accident prone, from the first instant of getting sick and healed by leafpool all the way up till the end. He is in and out of the medicine cats den constantly. and through this formed a big ol crush on the pretty medicine cat apprentice Willowshine who has had to full on decline his feelings. he is not the only one who has had this treatment, many a riverclan cats have found themself charmed by willowshine

Beechpaw

Beechpaw, a apprentice of ancient skyclan who were forced to leave the forest territory. i imagine beechpaw was of the few cats who did everything he could to keep the others in good spirit while they tried to find their home, which often came to the annoyance of all his distraught clanmates. he never stopped doing all he could to put a smile on their face until he died.

he was the last apprentice cloudstar named a warrior and only lived a few moons after becoming one.

warrior names i like for him are like Beechshed or Beechshine

Beenose

slight update to my beenose design because i want her to fit my newer darktail group clown aesthetic

another design note is her and her siblings all are themed after a diff color of the rainbow, beenose is yellow. their mom snowbird has a pale rainbow pattern and each other her kits is a diff color of the rainbow

Beetlewhisker

Beetlewhisker is another one of my quiet favorites i have, and it is because of the error of him being alive for SO many books after he died.

like !!! bitch had a HUGE major death and went on to live for a long time aND be listed as a cats mentor (which i think that has been changed now)

i love the idea of in a way beetlewhisker WAS with the clans that long after his death. that due to his death was in a way locked in the dark forest, his soul stuck there. but because of the ways of the dark forest cat’s he was chased out, and unable to enter starclan having died in the dark forest, now cursed to live in limbo.

He walks to the grounds of riverclan watching over his clanmates while they rest hoping that no one else is to be preyed upon by the dark forest like he was ever again.

theres ghost stories of riverclan cats seeing the shape of a cat shining brightly when hit by moonlight. a peaceful spirit of the past who protects them.

and in design 100% his design was made to look like that of a smeleton bones lol

Bellaleaf

the erin team will have to pry bellaleaf and firestar being siblings from my cold dead hands!!

you can’t say they look basically exactly alike and their not related i wont take it sdjkg. i DIE for the idea oh whore jake managing to have so many kids that get into the clans. like the over saturation of jake dna through the clans ruining them absolutely kills me sdjkg

i also imagine ravenpaw having like deja vu of firestar when he looks at bella, cats who knew firestar look at her and can’t help feel she reminds them of someone.

Berryheart

another one of the designfor snowbirds kits, berryheart is the red themed sibling.

she also got a slight design change to be more clowny to fit her time in darktail’s group

Berrynose

i just love berrynose, i think hes very terrible and i love him a lot

i think the books are cowards and i think berrystar woulda been the fUNniest outcome oR like

imagine the powermove if berrynose lived and squirrelflight fucking made berrynose her deputy likE

also berrynose is a lil gay brat, he has a thick country accent and everyone find him weirdly charming. many hate him but cant help but find him alluring.

he actually is a very good warrior, he stays on top of his task and brings in the prey. his biggest problem is his ego and his need to get in others faces all the time

i love when he’s paired with lionblaze because their stupid rivarly is so good i really wish it was more plot important and lasted longer i LIVE for best friend rivals lion and berry

buT i also love him with jayfeather for the simple dynamic of the one cat who would probably hate him more than anyone else but oops he’s in love to

or him and breezepelt because they could be lil shitheads togeather

Birchface

the biggest thing i can say about birchface is 100% birchface watched over mapleshade’s kits, doesnt let appledusk or his own family hurt them. He treats them like his own.

in AU’s where birchface lives i defiantly can see him having a HUGE crush on mapleshade and being much like thrushpelt was to bluefur. being as a surrogate dad for her kits and keeping the secret.

in my main AU with mapleshade dieing and getting a redemption its mostly the same except they become a sweet happy family together in starclan.

he’s a big goofy dad type and his father had hoped he would become leader one day, but worried that he was too lax with the code and not as driven to fight as others and began to think he would have to rely on frecklewish instead. then they both died and he ended up turning to his youngest son pinefur

Blade

this is just a one time ghost cat buT i like the design i made for her.

im all here for dark forest cats having this black oozing mark from where they died, starclan gets being covered in stardust and maybe having from pretty plats or glow or other representative stuff on their death. but ghost cats are loUD with their mark of death. its a nagging weight they carry around based on their inability to move on to their respective afterlives. For blade its giant bright red tire marks that slowly circle around her body.

Blazefire

just a lil boy

i imagine he kinda constantly has crushes on cats from other clans which while some might tell him to hush when he shares his thoughts on the pretty cat from riverclan he gets some loving teasing from dovewing and antfur

Blazefire is also miss nearly all of his tail

Blizzardstar and Blizzardwing

not much here but to say 100% i designed blizzardwing in mind of being that of a grandson or great grandson to blizzardstar

Blossomfall

shrug idk a lot to say about her beyond, i know she’s a asshole character but i remember liking her, i think she’s mean but its kinda fun in a way

i think i also just have this soft spot for millies kits because their millie’s

also i just like my blossomfall design i think she’s v fun

Blossomkit

another shadowclan kit who died under brokenstar’s ruling.

i think as sad as it is, i can imagine blossomkit to be badgerfang’s sister, just another sad thing to think about for fernshade’s litter. the potential idea of all her kit’s dying because of brokenstar

a warrior name for her that would been cute woulda been like Blossomglaze or blossomsprout

Bluebellkit

bluebellkit sure disappeared from the books. she’s one of those kits that like, she already had a mouth full of a name and i wish i coulda seen what they woulda named her as a warrior

but she’s another one of snowbird’s rainbow themed kids, her ofc being the blue one.

i think a cute warrior name for her could been Bluebellwhistle or bluebellfoot

Blouder

i lobe boulder i think he is very under appreciated!!

i think it be very fun to get a novella or something in this POV,,

he’s just hangin out back there yknow,,,

Bouncefire

(bit of an art change from here as i took a break between these two and switched programs)

idk a lot about actual bouncefire, i think the only books with any real characterization in it was ones i havent read

buT id really like to imagine growing up he saw his mentor patchfoot as a father figure and was ultimately the reason patchfoot and his mom got together. and bouncefire being absolutely ecstatic about it. thinking patchfoot is the coolest guy

bouncefire gets along good with his half siblings

gay cat and wanna be emo but just is kinda angy

Brackenfur

my biggest brackenfur AU is my medicat brackenfur which i have info of here

https://goatpaste.tumblr.com/post/631020627780911104/au-where-insteed-of-fireheart-picking-up

and

https://goatpaste.tumblr.com/post/632972589046890496/mmm-writing-out-like-big-plot-point-changes-in-my

the other thing vaguely mention in these but would probably be more prominent in his og story

but brackenfur is quietly the biggest mess in the family. Being on pare with confidence and energy as cinderpelt when they were young, after her accident somethin changed for him. he loved his sister but is a big distant. but its hardly noticeable between the two as they worked very separate jobs in the clan

then his other sister, brightpaw has her accident and brackenfur begins to question something

but when he his the last to leave in the thunderclan group to their new home he stops and looks back at his mother frostfur who is old and frail look, though she wasnt young the damage of the forest hit her hard.

this when brackenfur decides starclan has it out for his family, especially the mollies. they were cursed he was sure.

moons later he is expecting his kits with sorreltail, letting his mind rest on the idea, the crazy notion that some greater force wanted the she-cats in his family dead.

then the day his kits arrive cinderpelt dies to the badgers. he pushes down these feelings down again it was the time. But he couldn’t help but think that, if leafpool was there, if starclan had given them a sign of the badgers, anything. maybe cinderpelt might have lived. but he pushes it back down and tells himself it was a warriors death

and then his daughter, cinderpaw is struck by the tree and the stirring in his mind grows stronger. why has starclan done this to his family

then honeyfern gets bit by the snake. how could starclan be so cruel, their always so young.

then his sweet sorreltail fought strongly for her two young daughters future

and on his own, forced to watch seedpaw drown and lilypaw be haunted by what happened.

the women in brackenfurs family is cursed and he bears the burden of relizing it, of living and watching each of them suffer until the end

to the ones that lived and are happy still, with no burdens in their lives he watches happily making sure NOTHING bad comes their way. he would fight starclan themselves to make sure his family is safe and happy

Breezepelt

in design Breezepelt has a p average length tail. which for him is a huge disappointment. His father crowfeather has a long slender windclan tail, a trait that is held to high standards in his family. a trait passed all the way down from windstar herself who had the longest and most beautifully windy tail.

Breezepelt has a angry spot about this because he feels lacking and especially disconnected to his father. BUT double this with jayfeather having only half windclan blood has a tail even longer than crowfeathers

i also would NOT put breezepelt with heathertail, i dont see any reason for it. like first off this bitch gay, id love for him to have a boyfriend and it think it should be berrynose because one, their both terrible i think it be funny and i also think its funny to ship berrynose with lionblaze or jayfeather so im like, whats another brother (to be clear not shipped all together, this is separately) and two, the idea heathertail and poppyfrost lesbian could exist

then the big BIg thing is, i would take breezepelts character and gut what happened in crowfeathers trial out of both him and crowfeather

i talk about it a bit here, but i think ill re talk about it in full when i get to crowfeather https://goatpaste.tumblr.com/post/190544981670/breezepelt

Briarlight

miss briarlight i love you!!

very sweetgirl

i based her design off sakuras and bleed heart doves. idk what possessed me but when i went to design her i knEW she was gonna be pink she needed to be she deserved it

briarlight buff as shit in her forlegs she loves trying to rope leafpool and jayfeather into lil strength contest she always wins (sometimes she will let leafpool win on days she needs it)

her and jayfeather are wlw/mlm best friends. jayfeather calls her pidge which started as a mean nickname that she simply loved and embraced fully

also in my AU with medicat lionblaze i can very much see briarlight and lionblaze being very sweet friends. like big strong lionblaze who is actually docile and compassionate about his work and briarlight loud and rooting him on

Brick

swear to god until i got back into warrior cats this year i had always thought brick was a lady and her and bone were suppous to be scourges like adoptive bad parents jkdg

anyways im still with that, she/her agender brick who adopts their terrible son scourge and is in a monogamous partnership with bone’s. strictly business defiantly not married, they just have a son together.

Brindlewing

idk a ton about her, but from her wiki it dsjkgh doesnt look like theirs alot

but i’d like to imagine she’s a very anxious girl and struggles in crowds especially around cat she doesn't know. she feels more comfortable when one of her sisters is with her or her grandmother nightcloud. Nightcloud has always been a source of self confidence for her and they love each very much.

Brindlewing also inherited crowfeather’s family long tail that skipped breezepelt. Brindlewing holds the tail in her mouth as a means of helping her anxiety.

Bristlefrost

a biG design overhaul for my bristlefrost design, i really didnt like the old design i made her. wanted her to be a lil darker colored and in general have a cuter design

i gave her diff color eyes to mark her double agent status one eye green like her fathers and the other sharing the same blue i use for ashfur’s eye color

i kept her with the one white paw which i give to any descendent of jake, just because canonically she is ivy and ferns kid.

but in my rewrite their not togeather. Fernsong was a kittypet or a loner who had lost their mate and home and was found by ivypool caring for his three kittens alone. this is more fernsong headcanon, but bristlefrost is there

bristle and all the kits love ivypool they look up to her big time and all wished she was their mentor when they became apprentices.

bristlefrost often confides in her father when feeling guilty or unsure of herself and he is always there for her

Bristlekit

half brother to tallstar

i imagine woolytail’s family seems to have a high mortality rate with their kids with only one maybe two usually making it to adulthood. bristlekit would die before becoming an apprentice and spent time in starclan with finchkit and later rabbitkit waiting for wrenflight and tallstar.

if bristlekit made it to being a warrior id like to think he was named Bristlefeather or Bristlefoot

Brook where small fish swim

teeny update to my brook design to give her small white fish dots matching her brothers spots

her general design is mean to be loosely based on a mountain lion.

she got strong powerful mountain climbing body

i also wish her romance was better developed and wasnt like based in a lot of white savior romance plots given to native and native coded characters

in general the tribe really shoulda just been written better

Brownpaw

brownpaw, brother to littlecloud killed mosspaw as a kit on accident and was apprenticed for it by brokenstar

i imagine him and his brother wetfoot killing mosspaw effect them both deeply. for wetfoot it shook him to the core and made his doubt his own claws

for brownpaw it set him down the path of destruction. brokenstar rewarding him for what happened with mosspaw was the biggest enabler

brownpaw would go on to be a blood thirsty apprentice who would throw his young life away under brokenstars order of attack.

had he been made a warrior i think brokenstar woulda named him Brownmoss claiming he had earned the name when he took it from mosspaw.

Bug

design for bug because i think the book she was in didnt exist when i originally started drawing every warrior cat

love her!

bumblestripe

bumblestripe’s character makes me sad

im SUCH a millie stan and for one of her kids to be disabled then treated like garbage to the end of her life and written super ablest and then her other two kids are total shit heads? makes me sad

i wish at lEAST millie and graystripe had a second little, maybe just one total sweetheart

and its been forever since i read the books. but i remember bumblestripe being a real nobody characters just very generic personality until romance plot for dovewing came into play. and now he super sucks!

i wish he coulda just been a good character who loved dovewing, is sad and kinda jealous of her feelings for tigerheart but in the end respects her decisions and even admires her courage to follow her heart even if it led her over the borders.

Buster/Rippletail

slight buster redesign to fit more in the circus clown look from when he was in the kin

also design note, he’s got an orange themed design to go along with his rainbow themed siblings

Buzzardkit

windclan kit who showed up once in the sight crying and being comforted by a queen

mm i think some good warrior names for them woulda been like

buzzardface, Buzzardshriek or buzzardwhistle

56 notes · View notes

jaywritessmut · 4 years

Text

Weiß Chapter I- Business & Pleasure

*Weiß- White in German

Florian Munteanu x black female reader (All my fics are with black women in mind!)

Warnings: mentions of death & drug use, unprotected sex (wrap it up folks!)

Authors note: Sorry this took so long yall! I moved to a completely new state and that came with its own challenges and adjustments. Things have calmed down since but I’m about to start job hunting and house hunting which is exciting but also stressful AF! Pray for me! I apologize for any mistakes!

Word Count: 4.3K

Something about the smell of a hookah lounge drove her wild. The subtle sweetness in the air had always brought her peace, sometimes a bit of arousal. She found it much more tolerable than plain old cigarettes. But then again, cigarettes didn’t come in flavors like Blue Mist or Double Apple. She scanned the drink menu, impressed with the newer selections listed. Of course there were the outrageous names to contend with. Oil Spill? Typical Klaus she pondered. He’d always had an eye for the dramatic and it was one of the things she loved about him. How sad it was that she’d never hear one of his energetic, albeit coke fueled, rants again. She decided to pay homage to her eccentric companion and order one for old times sake. Her usual order of Jäger would have to wait.

The server took her order, fumbling over his pen as he scribbled it down. He was intimidated by her. She radiated authority and confidence. He had no idea who she was but the level of service she was receiving let him know that she was definitely a VIP. Making a mistake could cost him his job.

He must be new. She smirked at the thought. How cute.

Most everyone here knew who she was. Her table had been closed off and ready for her with her usual selection. Sex on the beach with a deeper freezer hose. They even made sure to put it in a mango just how she liked it. As soon as she stepped her Manholo clad foot out of her pearl white BMW, she’d been escorted into the club. Tamir gave her a salacious grin while he watched her strut into the building. Yeah, he was still hoping for a piece of that. The line of impatient party goers stared on in envy as she was given preferential treatment. But she was the boss. And bosses waited for no one.

She thought about letting loose tonight. Lord knows she needed it. But tonight was all about business. She needed to think. And surprisingly she was able to do just that as the bass from the clubs stereos shook the room. They had a deal, she and Klaus. She provided the money and kept an eye on the financial and legal side of things while Klaus was the face. He managed the club events, payroll, employees, social media presence, you name it. He was good at being the center of attention while she worked behind the scenes. But he also handled the grittier parts of it all. He dealt with the foot soldiers, making sure they were moving product. And then with suppliers to make sure they weren’t getting screwed them over. Turf wars and partnerships were all handled by him. It was a messy arena that Klaus shielded her form. And it made sense.

She was a sheltered daughter of an American diplomat. Her experience growing up in Berlin was quite different from his. While he fought to escape the crime infested slum and shady gangs, she vacationed on glamorous yachts in Malta. As a kid, he’d learned about the proper price to charge for a kilo while she was taught French and art history. They came from two different worlds yet managed to build a successful enterprise together. And now with him gone, she had no idea what to do. Just why the fuck did he have to piss off the Russians?

From across the club, Florian studied her closely in amazement. Annalise Roper in the flesh. ‘Lise’ was what she went by with family and close friends. But to her secret associates, she was Snow, the cocaine queen of Deutschland. He was surprised to see her here tonight. He had had the pleasure of meeting her on only a few occasions but knew that it was rare for her to be at the club. And with the circumstances surrounding Klaus death, he would’ve thought she’d lay low and increase security. But her face was unknown in the underground circles. When rival gangs talked about taking out Snow they were expecting a blonde hair blue eyed type. Not the melanated beauty he was currently admiring. The whole thing was ingenious really.

He watched as she threw back a shot, the club lights reflecting off her deep mocha skin. Her all white ensemble gave her an ethereal appearance, as if she were floating above the crowd. The effect she had on him was evident from the noticeable bulge in his pants. Full luscious lips, sultry bedroom eyes, flawless skin. All of her features drove him wild. And that was just her face. The white midi dress she wore, clung to her curves sinfully almost like a second skin. He knew she worked out. A body like that had to be properly maintained and cared for. And he wanted to explore every inch of it.

Florian adjusted his pants before approaching her. She’d just finish placing another drink order, a Jäger with ginger beer. The already skittish server rushed from her table almost running straight into him. When he glared stoically at the poor kid, he took off faster than before, desperate to get away from the two of them. Her almond shaped eyes gazed at him curiously while she took a pull from the hose. She admired the way his clothes fit on his body. His tailored shirt accentuated his impressive biceps. and the first two buttons were undone, showcasing his signature gold chain. He had style, that was undeniable.

Florian fought the urge to look at her lips but they were too hard to resist. The image of them wrapped around the hose was enough to fuel his already wild imagination.

She let out the smoke she inhaled while maintaining eye contact

“Wusstest du nicht, dass es unhöflich ist zu starren?”

He couldn’t help the smirk that fell upon his lips. Sarcasm was her defense mechanism, but it only made him want her more.

“Ja. Ich bin nur überrascht dich hier zu sehen, Schnee”

Her eyes flashed in anger at his nickname for her. She hated the way it sounded in German. Schnee. It was nowhere near as sexy as Snow.

“Darf ich mich setzen?”

“Wirst du mich nerven?”

He took a seat next to her, ignoring her question. Asshole she thought to herself. But a very sexy asshole nonetheless. The jittery server returned with her drink and skittered off to help the next patron.

“Why do you hate me so much?” He leaned into her, pressing a muscular leg onto her. She’d always been in awe of his large frame, even daydreamed about being pinned underneath him while he did unspeakable things to her body. But she was his boss. And she didn’t fuck her employees.

“I don’t hate you. I’m irritated by you” she went to take a sip of her drink to take the edge off. Whichever bartender made it went heavy on the Jäger . She was grateful for it.

“Why? Because I turn you on?” She almost choked on her drink as he brought his mouth to her ear.

Composing herself, she turned to glare at him. But he remained unfazed by her anger.

“Who said you turn me on? And how do you even know what me being turned on looks like? You’ve never had me to know”

“We could change that tonight.”

She rolled her eyes in annoyance and turned away from him. He was a typical playboy, used to getting what he wanted with a few charming words. But she wasn’t falling for it.

"Don’t be like that. You know you want me”

“And what makes you say that?”

“Basic science. Your pupils dilate whenever I come around. And you think I don’t notice but you look me up and down while biting your lip. It’s really sexy by the way, makes me want to lean forward and nibble it myself”

She crossed her arms in indignation trying to prevent his words from having an affect on her. His eyes wandered low to admire the way her breasts were pushed together.

“You also clench your legs together when I speak to you. Just like you are right now. And if you let me, I can give you the friction you desperately need. All you have to do is say yes”

He softly strummed his finger against her thigh. The sensation made her dizzy and she struggled to compose herself. It had been a while. Her last relationship ended a year ago and the Tinder dates just weren’t cutting it anymore.

Florian leaned closer once more and brought his mouth to her ear.

“Want to bet on how many times I can make you come in one night?”

Her resolve weakened and she closed her eyes as she fought for control of her libido. This was not what she had in mind when she made her way to the club.

Fighting past her bodies screams for release, she sat up straight and scooted away from him.

“Flo, I’m here to think. I can’t be distracted. Not now”

He picked up on the solemn tone of her voice. Maybe he was coming in a little too strong. Her friend was just killed and now she was left with an illegal business that she felt ill equipped to run alone. His attempt at seducing her didn’t really help.

“He cared a lot about you, you know? And he respected the hell out of you”

She nodded as she took another pull from the hose, trying to fight back the tears that would undoubtedly come. Klaus truly was her friend. And because of some stupid deal that she didn’t even want him to take, he was dead. She’d never hear his infectious laugh or be on the receiving end of one of his bear hugs again. A chill ran through her as she blew out a plume of smoke.

“Snow, did you hear me?”

“What?”

“I said, let me take you home. This is the last place you need to be”

“I can’t. I need to be here”

“No you don’t. Elias has the club under control. We’ll figure out the rest ourselves, okay?”

Maybe now wasn’t the right time. She’d always prided herself on being rational and calculated. It was hard to be that way when so many emotions swirled through her heart and mind. Fear being the biggest one. What if this was all going to collapse? What if she was next?

She nodded, focusing on fighting back the unshed tears that blurred her vision. This was not how the night was supposed to go. But it was for the best. The business could wait. Right now she needed a distraction. She handed Florian her keys and let him guide her out the club, ignoring the curious stares that followed. Fuck them she thought. It was none of their business who she took home.

They rode in her car in silence. She was careful who she let drive her baby but she trusted Florian for some strange reason. Occasionally his eyes would wander over to her seat so that he could admire her toned legs. He imagined them wrapped around his waist while he drove into her. Or maybe over his shoulders while he pounded into her. Snow smirked to herself as she caught him staring in the mirror.

“Drei” she blurted out. He turned to her as best he could, a curious look on his face.

“You wanted to bet how many times you can make me come tonight. Die antwort ist drei”

Surprise registered on his face as he took in what she was saying. She was giving him the green light, and he had no intention of passing up on the offer. Florian drove like a mad man, weaving through traffic with a fierce determination. The sounds of blaring car horns filled the air as he made his way to her apartment. When they finally pulled into the parking space outside, he turned the car off and turned to Snow. The tension in the air was thick and he fought to compose himself.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked

“Since when did you become such a gentleman?”

“I just don’t want you to regret this. If you say yes, I won’t hold back. If you say yes, then I’m going to make it my mission to explore every inch of your luscious body. Willst du das??”

With an unmistakable nod, she gave him the answer he wanted. She gazed into his hazel eyes, and found that his eyes were slowly flickering down to her plump lips. Florian leaned forward to kiss her, relishing in the feel of her soft lip against his. Her brought up a hand to tenderly stroke her cheek, causing her to gasp. He took the opportunity to slip in his tongue, gently coaxing her to deepen the kiss.

Something came over Snow as she unbuckled her seat belt and climbed over to straddle his lap. Without breaking the kiss, he leaned his seat back to give them more space. His hands lowered down to her ass which he held a tight grip on.

He broke the kiss, bringing his lips to the tender spot underneath her ear and began to place open mouth kisses there. The feeling made her head fuzzy with need and she felt her wetness drip from her center.

“Flo” she moaned, rocking her hips against his. She felt the substantial bulge in his jeans and it made her even more desperate for release. He chuckled against her skin before bringing his lips to hers and planting a hot open mouth kiss.

His hands moved strategically over her body, as if he was studying every spot that drew a response. He committed it to memory, trusting that this wouldn’t be the last time he’d get to taste her. He took both her hands in his and pinned them above her head and he continued to kiss her which she returned with fierce determination. The inside of his car began to fill with the sounds of her moans as he slid his hands up her right thigh.

His talented fingers began to glide between her legs. Much to his delight he discovered there were no panties to remove and his fingers found the source of the wetness sliding down her shapely mocha legs.

"Enjoying yourself are we?" he teased as he circled her clit. She moaned and shook, unable to formulate a response.

"Gut" he said as he slipped a finger inside and massaged her g-spot. She shuddered and felt himself hardened as her walls clenched his thick fingers.

He kissed her and continued to massage her inner walls while stroking her clit. The sensation of his mouth devouring her while stroking her most sensitive spot, caused heat to spread through her body. She knew her orgasm was close and she didn’t even care that they hadn’t even made it inside her apartment.

“Fuck, Flo, I’m-”

He pumped his fingers into her, stroking the soft spongy part of her with a wicked speed while coaxing her to her release. With added pressure on her clit, she detonated around him, her warm center tightening around him with a vice grip. He placed soft kisses on her neck, which she exposed to him as she threw her head back in ecstasy.

“That was one” she purred, coming down from her orgasm. She saw the flash of persistence in his eye and immediately knew she was in for a wild night. The gauntlet had been thrown down and he was more than ready to pick it up.

“Let’s get you in the house, jetzt” he growled before crushing his lips to hers.

They stumbled into the foyer of her apartment, a tangled mess of hands and lips. The ride up to her floor was nothing but him pushing her up against the elevator wall and teasing her already sensitive flesh. And right now, with them finally having privacy, she felt a mixture of excitement and fear.

“Where’s your bedroom?” he grunted, pulling his lips from hers.

“Upstairs, second room on the right”

With no effort, Florian picked her up and made his way up the steps. She began teasing him, suckling and nibbling on the soft flesh of his earlobe. His skin broke out in goosebumps making her smile with satisfaction. He made his way to her bedroom and crushed his lips onto hers, slamming the door behind him with his foot. They remained locked in a deep kiss, her legs wrapped around him, grinding on the front of his jeans. He tossed her onto the bed and she fell with a squeal of delight. After giggling and catching her breath she looked up at him.

He couldn't remember wanting anything so badly. He watched as she crawled on her hands and knees to the front of the bed and started to unbuckle his belt. Taking off his shirt, he measured the gorgeousness of her feminine curves as they lay before him. The gentle arch in her back, the slight hourglass form that widened into the luscious, full heart shape of her butt.

He needed to devour her; to put her in the ecstatic trance that drew him like a magnet to her in the first place. He needed to taste this irresistible creature.

She had succeeded in the arduous task of loosening his belt and had her little hand down the front of his boxers grasped gently around his thick member. He saw her eyes widen and her tongue trace across her lips in anticipation. He pushed his jeans to the ground so she could get an easier grip but when she went to take him in his mouth, he stopped her, took her hand off his member and kissed it.

"You first..."

Florian shoved Snow back onto the bed. She tumbled over with a giggle and a sigh as he crawled over the top of her. He teased her swollen clit with the tip of his shaft for a second and felt her shiver at the contact.

He began at her neck kissing slowly and biting gently, savoring her smell and every inch of her flavor. He made his way to her toned belly and grazed his lips over her navel, watching her toned tummy rise and fall as her breathing became more erratic. He positioned his shoulders under her thighs and gazed at her glistening pussy, laid open for him. Kissing the inside of her right thigh, then suckling the inside of her left, he reveled in her scent. It reminded him of citrus and honey.

With a long, flat tongue he tasted her.He groaned in appreciation at how sweet and juicy she tasted. Craving more, he wrapped his arms around her legs and pulled her closer to his face, burying his mouth in her delicious folds. He could feel her wetness soaking his lips but it only made him more excited. His tongue danced around the sensitive flesh as he responded to her gasps and moans.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop” she begged.

His dick throbbed painfully, wanting in on the action. But this was for her. And he loved making her moan. It was such deep satisfaction to feel the power he had over her. She followed his lead, grinding her hips against the entirety of his mouth, using the friction to get closer and closer to her destination.

He flicked his tongue across her clit in a fluid motion and inserted two eager fingers into her slick center. Her moan rose into a pleasure-filled shriek, he heard her breath come in quicker and knew she was close to her release.

“Fuck!” she cried out, her walls tensing around his fingers as she released once more in a succulent explosion that left his mouth soaking to the bottom of his nose and his hand wet all the way to his wrist. His beard glistened with her juices and it drove him wild to be covered in her scent.

“That was two” he grunted, a sense of pride filling him. He had always been a competitive man and this was one game he was sure to win. She lay sprawled, unable to open her eyes, but with a contented smile on her lips as the waves of her body's aftershock shook her, gently bouncing her breasts. He knew she was more than ready for him.

He quickly stripped her of the rest of her clothing, the white midi dress discarded somewhere on her bedroom floor. He was surprised to discover that in addition to no panties, she’d forgone a bra as well.

“No underwear huh? Well aren’t we nasty” he taunted, as he stroked his dick along her already sensitive clit.

“Shut up and fuck me Florian” she growled, growing impatient. Two orgasms weren’t enough, she wanted more. She needed him to fill her.

He slid his body atop hers, looking deeply into her soulful brown eyes as he sank into her. Her nails dug into his skin as he pulled out before thrusting forward and bottoming out inside her.

He began long, slow, deep strokes wanting her to feel every ridge and vein of his thick cock. Her eyes were closed and she was moaning with every down stroke, perfectly in tune with his pace.

“So fucking wet” he gasped as her felt her soft folds took him in deeper and deeper. He had decided in that moment that this was his favorite place to be. He could spend the rest of his life between her thighs and die a happy man.

Her cheeks flushed as the walls of her pussy tightened around him. She knew he was big from the feel of his bulge in the car but she still gasped in surprise when he filled her up. The way he moved within her drove her wild and she was desperate for more. She hooked her leg around his waist, aching for him to be as close to him as she possibly could.

“Please baby, harder” she urged, wanting to feel him fully unleash on her. Teasingly, he pulled all the way out until just the head was inside her and paused. She opened her eyes and looked at him pleadingly, biting her lower lip hard. He sank his cock back inside her and paused again, causing her to quiver.

“Fuck Flo, get to it!” she cried, causing something inside of him to snap. He picked up his pace, his hips thrusting in her with a feverish need. She was panting as he fucked her and leaned up to kiss him hungrily. His tongue entered her mouth even as his cock penetrated her, hitting that sweet spot. And with one sudden jerk of his hips, he felt her pussy grip him tightly before exploding all around him.

“Oh my fucking God!” she screamed as her entire body dissolved into the waves of pleasure flowing through her. Florian continued to move inside her, softly stroking her face and hair while whispering sweet words in her ear. She was completely shattered, but the hard cock pulsing inside of her told her that the night was far from over.

“And there’s three. Think you got one more for me baby?” he cooed. Her hooded gaze told him she was spent, but he was determined to win this bet. He knew he could push her past the brink of satisfaction one last time.

He pulled out of her and effortlessly flipped her over, leaving her chest pressed into the mattress. He then led her to the edge of the bed, pullingg her lower body up onto her knees. Standing behind her, Florian pushed her head down to the mattress and rubbed the head of my cock against her dripping wet slit.

With a quick thrust forward, he buried his cock inside her roughly, grabbing onto her hips for leverage.

“Fuck!” they both cried out simultaneously.

Snow arched her back, throwing her head back in ecstasy. He grabbed a handful of her hair and used it to pull her back against him as he slammed his cock into her hard and fast. She moaned wantonly, and he felt the familiar tremor of her walls.

“Are you going to come for me again baby?” he cooed into her ear.

She could barely respond but her body answered for him.

“Hold it liebling” he urged, as he pounded into her fiercely.

Her body shook with every thrust of his hips and she wondered just how she would fend off this impending orgasm. As if it wasn’t hard enough, he wrapped both hands around her neck and began fucking her harder.

Her body had no choice but to surrender to his brutal assault and she wailed into the mattress as she fought to stop herself from coming. His thick cock was buried deep inside of her, relentlessly filling her up and staking its claim over her. And just when she thought she couldn’t hold it any longer, he granted her release.

“Fuck, Snow, come! Come all over this dick!” he growled before emptying inside of her, coating her walls with thick ribbons of his cum. Her last orgasm ripped through her, leaving her a screaming mess underneath him. She had never been more thankful for her penthouse apartment that separated her from the rest of her neighbors.

Florian gently pulled out of her before laying next to her. They laid next to each other, both trying to calm their breathing and make sense of what had just transpired between them.

“So I guess I won the bet” he remarked smugly, while taking in her appearance. Her hair stuck to her forehead, dampened by the thin sheen of sweat that had broken out across her body.

“Shut up” she ragged, still struggling to catch her breath. He couldn’t help the chuckle that broke from his lips and pretty soon, they were both laughing hysterically, their arms and legs tangled together.

“What’s my prize. For exceeding your expectations?”

“The nut you got was enough of a prize” she retorted, her head now gently laid on his toned chest. She lazily drew circles around his pecs, relishing in the feel of his warm skin.

“Fair enough”

“But we do have a more serious issue on our hands now,” she continued. The problems she had at the club were still there and a few orgasms wouldn’t be enough to rid her of them. Florian looked down at her expectantly, waiting for her to explain what she meant.

“I need you to walk me through the business. I want to take over.”

Translations:

Wusstest du nicht, dass es unhöflich ist zu starren?- Didn’t you know that it’s rude to stare?

Ja. Ich bin nur überrascht, dich hier zu sehen, Schnee - Yeah, I’m just surprised to see you here Snow.

Darf ich mich setzen?”- May I sit?

“Wirst du mich nerven?- Are you going to annoy me?

Drei/Die antwort ist drei- Three/ The answer is three

Willst du das?- Do you want this?

Gu- Good

Jetzt-Now

Liebling- Darling

Let me know if you want to be added to a tag list for this story! I hope you like it because I’m so excited to continue writing this!

#florian munteanu #florian munteanu x reader #florian munteanu x black reader #florian munteanu smut

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bearded-shepherd · 4 years

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Let’s Talk: GAME OF THE YEAR

Lemme get this out of the way to congratulate The Last of Us part 2 for winning Game of The Year.

But anyways, I'm not really going to talk about that right now cause what I’ve been seeing is some hot garbage of “x doesn’t deserves GOTY” this goes out to ANYONE WHO SAY THAT SHIT ABOUT ANY FUCKING GAME OUT THERE.

Listen here, every fucking game deserves the GOTY alright, it just so happens that the panel has to make a tough decision between a number of brilliant games and round that down to 1.

Lemme tell ya why each game nomination in the year of our lord two thousand and twenty DESERVES the GOTY award.

ANIMAL CROSSING NEW HORIZONS: This game was the fucking godsend during the beginning of the year. The pandemic got people uneasy, we’re going to a lockdown, and we couldn’t interact with our friends. ACNH was there for us (still is). It’s a chill ass game to vibe too, you can customize your island and invite friends. That’s some GOTY material right there.

DOOM ETERNAL: THIS GAME HAS PERFECTED IT’S GAMEPLAY. It’s fast paced, beautiful, and just a hell of a lot of fun to let go of your worries that day and kill some FUCKING DEMONS. It‘s Intense in all the good ways.

FF7 REMAKE: Listen, this game is packed with nostalgia and I’m slurping that shit up like it’s liquid cocaine. I love seeing games get remade for the newer generations (and of course older) and the creators did a fantastic job of hitting all the right button man. The details, the soundtrack, THE SOUNDTRACK THO, boy does that make my younger self in me delighted.

HADES: From the creators of Bastion and Transistor, this game came out of no where and beat my ass and I accepted it as FACT. Lemme tell you THIS, this game is fucking superb. Zagreus is a chad we all wish to be. The art direction in this game DID NOT DISAPPOINT!! This game ended this year with a hard bang.

GHOST OF TSUSHIMA: New IP fresh out of the oven from the studio Sucker Punch who did one of my favorite games series Infamous. What a way to wind down the generation of the Playstation 4. The art direction in the game is beautiful, you can still recognize that “Sucker Punch touch” in all their games; they have a distinct style that’s just so recognizable. If you like old samurai movies, this is the game for you. If you like open world, this is the game for you. If you like making haikus and liking at beautiful environments and following foxes to shrines, THIS IS THE GAME FOR YOU.

THE LAST OF US PART II: This game, THIS GAME... it was hard, it was a roller coaster, from experiencing every emotion to immediately being drained from its essence because how much this game tugs on ya. It’s controversial, ja sure, but ND really pushed this game in narrative form that I’ve ever seen to this day. Let’s talk about the accessibility in this game. THE BEST I’VE SEEN SO FAR. why dont more AAA game incorporate this more ( I sure hope so) and improve even more from it. The Audio designs, the details in the whistling done by the Sepherites, the gritty atmosphere of Seattle, the list goes on. Like it or not, this game has gotten a lot of people talking about it.

Of course every game has cons, HOWEVER none of them “doesn’t deserve GOTY” they all do. People working their asses off to create a story, an interactive world that you can play comfortably in your home is automatically a GOTY for me.

#the game awards #goty #game of the year #animal crossing new horizons #doom eternal #final fantasy 7 #hades #ghost of tsushima #the last of us part 2 #tlou2 #got #ff7 #acnh #video games #im not taking this low brain shit bruv let people enjoy games

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scavengerfive · 4 years

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An Ornament Hung

Another year, another Abel Secret Santa fic. I went a bit overboard with this one, but I hope @when-sanpape-arts enjoys their Secret Santa gift. Sam wasn’t the best beta last time, so I got Maggie and Rajit to help me this year. Still, without any good proofreading softwares on Rofflenet, there was only so much we could do.

I would like to thank @runnerzero, @notforconsumption, and @goblinsharkz for putting all of this together and posting it on the Noticeboard (did Janine clear it?).

This takes place in some obscure limbo of my first year in Abel (OOC: though there are some mentions of future characters - though no real spoilers). Merry Christmas! Hpappy Holidays! Enjoy before my neuroticism kicks in, and I start editing every single mistake I spot.

Summary: You're not quite sure if you believe he is who he says he is, but he does have the laugh and the sleigh. Plus, his reindeer almost ran you over. He needs your help to save Christmas, but you're leaving it up to him to convince Janine because you'd rather not have latrine duty... again.

---

“Good job, Five!” Sam crowed after you exited the shop, shoving the doors shut behind you and quickly pushing over a pile of molding wooden beams to block them. “That should keep those zombs from following you. Did you get the supplies?”

You tapped the headset twice and looked down at your bag, holding it open so your head cam could see the inside, then you took off, keeping an eye out for any stray zombies that had splintered off from the horde you had just trapped. You hadn’t expected them to follow you in, but you made sure they couldn’t follow you out.

“Fantastic! Come on home then, Five,” Sam continued. “You did magnificent today. I’m sure I can convince Rajit to let you have a hot shower when you get back. Just go on right ahead and make a right when you get to the sign up the road. Head due west. You shouldn’t run into anything too big. Maybe a few shamblers, but you can stay ahead of them, right, Five?”

You tapped three times this time and beamed when he laughed.

“Cheeky, Five. Now, just ahead, you might have to--hold on, what’s this? I see something on the scanner… I can’t--wait--no… I don’t--hey, Five. Do me a favor and take the next two lefts and head towards the block of flats by the old theatre. I need your eyes--well, your head cam’s eyes--eye? Just--turn here.”

You knew Abel was the other way, but you trusted Sam and followed his directions without hesitation. It looked like something interesting caught his attention, and his curiosity demanded to be satiated, using you as its vessel. Not that you minded, and now, you were intrigued as well.

As you approached the flats, you could hear the ambient moans of zombies growing louder as you neared, and you took extra care to be quiet and stealthy in case you stumbled upon any. You crouched by a wall, sliding along it. Your nose had just about grown numb to the rancid scent on the wind, yet you had to swallow back a gag nonetheless.

There was an unfamiliar panting and grunting noise also gaining volume as you stalked towards the junction. You leaned forward to peek. The scattering of pebbles and sounds of clopping and, strangely, bells were your only warnings before a brown form barreled around the corner. You jumped back, tripped over a crack in the pavement, and fell on your bum, scrapping your palm on the rough ground.

“Five?” Sam called, sounding baffled. “Was that--was that a reindeer?”

Your head whipped around, and you caught sight of the tailend of the creature before it disappeared down the road. You tapped twice.

“Last time I checked, reindeer were not a native species in these parts. Perhaps, it escaped a zoo--or a sanctuary. Do we have any of those near here? And--am I mistaken, or did it have bells on it?”

You pushed yourself to your feet and jogged around the junction in the direction where the reindeer had come from. You could definitely hear more than a few zombies ahead.

“It should be just ahead, Five,” Sam said as you skulked. “I can see a horde of zombies surrounding a house. I think there is someone trapped on the roof. They might need help. Think you’re up for it?”

Tapping twice, you sped up, following the moans.

“Um… Five? Is that--is that a sleigh? On its side?”

Yes. Yes, it was. It was tipped over on its side, one of its runners up in the air. The red painted wood was scratched and splintering in spots, and there were reins from the front rail piled on the ground, torn or unhooked. A red sack was tumbled out of the back, deflated on the ground.

“Oh, no. Tell me you’re not about to be chased by zombie Santa and his elves, Five,” Sam whined. “That would be so not holly jolly.”

You prodded the bag with your foot. It seemed to be empty, and you contemplated picking it up when you heard a deep voice bellow over the moans of the zombies just out of sight.

“Oh, ho, ho, no! Dasher! Dancer! Prancer! Vixen! Come back here! Comet! Cupid! Donder! Blitze--where is Blitzen? Comet? Where is-- no! Back here! Chocolate fudge!”

You easily found the owner of the voice, and… Sam wasn’t too far off. A crowd of maybe fifteen zombies or so surrounded a two story house, its front door broken open. You suspected some may be inside, but the ones outside had their attention fixed upward where a familiar (in reputation) figure was on the roof. He limped along the edge of the roof, scratching his great white beard. His other hand was clutching a red hat with a white poof at the end, an accessory to the bright suit he wore over his rotund frame.

Your brain short circuited, but where you were rebooting, Sam was freaking out.

“Five! It can’t be! No! Come on!” he denied before flipping completely the other way. “Santa! It’s Santa! Five, that’s Santa! The Kris Kringle Saint Nick Santa! Surrounded by zombies! Santa is surrounded by zombies! Santa is about to be bitten by zombies and turned into a zombie! Father Christmas is about to be zombied!”

The radio operator inhaled loudly, reclaiming the air he had expelled with that breathless outpour.

“Five, you have to save him! If he dies, Christmas is over! You have to save Christmas!”

You tapped four times, and Sam quieted, letting you focus. You didn’t have time to think too hard on whatever was happening or who exactly you were seeing, but you did know how to help someone in a crisis like this. This was familiar.

You pulled out your noisemaker and turned it on before leaving your cover. Zombies were immediately attracted to the newer, more persistent noise, and you soon had a tail that you began to lead away from the house.

“Cut through those two building, Five,” Sam directed, sounding a bit calmer, falling into routine, but he still had a manic tinge to his voice. “If you hop that fence, you can lose them and circle back! Yes, that one. Oh, brilliant, Five! You went right over it. No problem. Okay, left around this house, and back to… Santa. Santa! Five!”

Four taps as you made your way back to the house, noisemaker off and back in your pocket.

“...but it’s Santa Claus, Five. Okay. Okay. I’ll calm down.”

The… man was still on the roof when you approached it. There were about two zombies still persistently moaning up at him. You unclipped your bat, and sneaking up on one, you whacked it from behind, nearly taking its whole head off. The body squelched on the ground, and you quickly dispatched the next one that turned to you. It was over in seconds.

“Oh, hello, Runner Five!”

You looked up at the greeting.

“...you know Santa, Five?”

Sam had no right sounding that betrayed, and you were just confused. How did he know who you were?

“It seems you are here to help me out of this pickle I’ve got myself in,” Santa (?) said jovially, like he wasn’t trapped on a roof. “I’m afraid I cannot get down the same way I got up. My ride seems to have suffered a--tragic accident. By the way, have you seen any reindeer? They wandered off.”

“...no. No way,” Sam exclaimed.

You just--you couldn’t--you walked around the house, locating a small shed by the back. You pushed at the door, the swollen wood resisting a bit before giving. Holding your bat at ready, you slipped in. It smelled musty rather than decaying, and you saw a few abandoned tools and supplies which you began to pack into your bag, wishing you had collected that sack (Santa’s sack?). There was a ladder like you had hoped, and you grasped it, lifting slash dragging it behind you.

“Ah, yes. That should work brilliantly,” Santa said as you reappeared, not looking the slightest bit concerned that you had abandoned him. “You are a clever one, aren’t you?”

You extended the ladder and leaned it against the side of the house, holding its side to steady it. “Santa” moved slowly, swinging a leg onto a rung and working his way down the ladder until he was on the ground again--like a normal person--not that this was the first person you’ve seen on a roof--but his roof activity had implications that didn’t just involve being trapped by the undead.

You backed up as he brushed his suit off and plopped his hat back on his head, eyeing him warily.

“Five?” Sam called quietly. “Does he really have ruddy cheeks?”

...who didn’t in this weather?

“Runner Five,” Santa said in a deep, warm voice with a great big smile. “I am so grateful you came along to help me. I must say I found myself quite puzzled on how to get myself out of that situation.”

“Does this mean you are on the Nice List?” Sam asked, then gasped. “Five, ask him if he has a Nice List? Am I on it?”

You tapped three times, and "Santa’s" gaze followed your hand as it dropped. He looked intrigued.

“Oh, is that Sam?” he asked, eyes studying the headset.

You froze while Sam squeed.

“HE KNOWS MY NAME!”

“Mr. Yao, what is going on in here?”

“Oh-um, Janine…”

“Why isn’t Five back yet with the equipment?”

“Um--you see--the thing is, Janine--that--”

You gestured at "Santa" to follow, and he started limping after you. Now that he was on ground level, you could see a wound through his torn trousers's left leg, but you couldn't see what kind. Nowadays, it was really important to know the cause. You stopped, unwilling to risk it. He looked at you expantantly, and you gestured at his leg.

"Ah, this old thing? Well, not old," "Santa" amended, both of you clearly seeing the still drying blood. "One of the runners of my sleigh caught my leg when my reindeer startled and took off without me. They're still not used to the current state of things unfortunately and can be quite skittish."

...whatever.

“Mr. Yao," Janine pushed, and you could almost hear her arms-crossed stance of pure intimidation.

“...Five just saved Santa!" Sam broke.

"...what? Mr. Yao, must I remind you that Santa Claus is not real?"

"Have you seen my sleigh by the way? Or any of my reindeer?" "Santa" asked, once again tailing you as you headed back towards where you had originally come and towards Abel. "I will be needing them if I am to fulfill my seasonal duty and get back home."

He was really committing to the role, wasn't he? Though, you had to give him points. You were almost run over by a reindeer.

"Uh-Five just sa--look for yourself!" Sam exclaimed at his wit’s end. “Five, look at him again.”

There was a rustling, and you turned your head, making sure your head cam was facing “Santa”. He waved.

“Hello, Janey,” he greeted, beaming. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? How is little Tommy doing? Haven’t heard from you two in a long time.”

Sam’s sounds were pitched and incoherent, but Janine’s voice, low and tight, was clear, and you suppressed a shiver.

“Bring him in, Runner Five,” she ordered. “I would like to have a chat with him.”

“Janine! You cannot interrogate Santa!”

“Oh…” Santa breathed when you led him around the junction, and he spotted his sleigh. “Oh, dear.”

He limped over to it, and you followed after him, keeping an eye out for any of the zombies you had led astray earlier. Sam was supposed to be your eyes in the sky, your guy in the chair, but he clearly was trying to wrap his mind around this situation. You understood Janine’s wariness because you were too. How did this stranger not only know who was on the other side of the link but also all of their names?

“Who’s Tom?” Sam asked.

“No one. Forget you ever heard that name. Get Runner Five home.”

“...and she is gone,” Sam said after a pause. “An open book, isn��t she, Five?”

“Santa” caressed the side of the sleigh, his gloves catching on the splinters, and he pulled back. For the first time since you’d encountered him, he looked somber. You watched him walk around it then slowly crouch to examine the reins. He grasped a torn end, frowning. Abruptly, he dropped it and stood, brushing off his gloves and smiling at you.

“I suppose I must go with you to Abel,” he said, bending over to pick up the red sack by the sleigh and throw it over his shoulder. “It was one of my stops. I think I’m going to need your runners’ help.”

Sam inhaled, and you buckled in for his next outburst.

---

Despite his bum leg, “Santa” managed to keep up with you (after you slowed down a bit). As Sam yelled, “Raise the gates!”, you and “Santa” passed under a hail of bullets and through the outer gate. As the siren blared and quieted, a guard stepped forward to do your bite checks, eyeing “Santa” with bewilderment.

“Hello, George,” “Santa” said with a warm smile. “Is Lizzie doing well?”

George stopped in the middle of your examination and stared wide-eyed at the “Santa”. So did you.

“How-how-do I know you?” George sputtered, half between reaching for his weapon, but he looked more confused than hostile.

“Not as well as you used to, but Lizzie did mention that she was worried about you since her mum got hurt.”

“How--when have you spoken to my daughter?”

You caught George before he could get too close to “Santa”, and another guard steped forward to guide him back.

“Thank you, John,” “...Santa?” said offhandedly, looking at George. “I haven’t had the pleasure of talking with the young lady, but she still wrote a letter this year despite the apocalypse.”

“You expect me to believe you’re actually Santa Claus?”

As usual, some people were drawn by the gate sirens, curious to see who was out of the township and what they brought back, but instead of wandering off, they stopped to stare, calling over other people until a small muttering crowd was beginning to form. It’s not everyday that Santa comes to town.

“I don’t expect belief from anyone,” “Santa?” said, unmoved by the tension. “I am who I am. Hello, Sam!”

You turned to see the radio operator squeezing his way through the crowd, his headset hanging off center around his neck. He forced himself through, stumbling forward as he pulled himself free. Stopping, he stared, eyes wide.

“...Santa?” Sam called out tentatively, clutching his hoodie.

“It’s good to see you, Sam,” “Santa (...what?)” said kindly. “I’m sorry to hear about your engineering degree, but I’m glad you’re putting your interests to use to help your friends.”

Sam lit up and rushed forward.

“I--it’s nothing really,” he said, suddenly bashful. “I just talk people’s ears off and hopefully get them out of trouble.”

“Sam, don’t tell me you believe him,” George said incredulously, still glaring at “...Santa”.

“I mean--look at him,” Sam said, gesturing at “Santa (...?)”. “And Five found his sleigh and almost got ran over by a reindeer. Tell them, Five!”

You flashed a thumbs up when the guards looked for confirmation.

“He was probably a mall Santa,” George countered.

“Or just crazy,” John added quietly, speaking up for the first time.

“Mr. Jones and Mr. Monroe, did you finish conducting the routine bite checks?” Janine’s stern voice cut through.

The two men startled to see Janine who had somehow managed to sneak up on all of them. “Santa (...)” smiled cheerfully at her.

“No, ma’am,” George mumbled.

“Get to it then.”

John dealt with “Santa (... …)” while George finished up your examination, all the while Janine watched with Sam buzzing next to her.

“Mr…?” Janine prompted as you both were cleared, and you handed over your bag to have the supplies emptied and sorted.

“Claus,” “Santa (...?)” supplied. “Or Kringle if you’d rather. I do prefer Kris.”

You could roll with that. Kris was shameless in the face of Janine’s disapproval, but it’s not like she could make him say otherwise.

“Mr. Kringle,” Janine said, her face twitching, but she maintained her cool demeanor. “I would like to have a private word with you.”

“I usually wouldn’t deny your request,” Kris started, “but I must say I have an urgent matter that I would like to discuss that I do not believe we would have time to get to if I allow you to question me.”

“And what is that?”

“I am incapable of completing my route without my sleigh and my reindeers, and I believe I need the help of your runners to complete my task.”

“You must be joking. Are you suggesting--?”

“Janey--um, Ms. de Luca,” Kris interrupted, correcting upon receiving Janine’s death glare. “I would not joke about such a matter. It is my job to maintain hope in this season, and with the world in such a state, it is ever more critical that Christmas--”

“Mr. Kringle! I do not have tim--”

“Must I prove it then?” Kris said, his gaze sharp.

Janine opened her mouth then closed it after a moment of deliberation. Folding her arms, she shifted her weight onto one leg, hip jutting, and gestured at him to continue. The small crowd had grown larger and nearer, eager to see the outcome of this. You could see Jody pushing her way to the front with Simon just behind.

“I usually depend on the unconditional belief of children and the few older True Believers,” Kris said, glancing at Sam for a moment who saw the look and gasped. “But if I must make you believe to gain your help, so be it. Runner Five, please take this.”

You grasped the sack he handed you. It was light and, looking in, appeared to be empty. Kris rubbed his hands together then reached into the bag, pulling out a wrapped box that was definitely not in there before. Your jaw dropped.

Peering at the name on the little card, Kris called, “Molly Harrison.”

There was a pause before you heard Ed shout out, “No, Molly! Come back!”

The little girl appeared, pushing through the legs of the larger folks around her. Her cheeks were rosy from the cold under her wide eyes that stared up at Kris. She toddled forward, clutching Mr. Rabbit in her arms, just as her father caught up, swinging her up in his arms despite her squirming to get away.

“Ed,” Kris greeted, stepping closer carefully and holding out the box. “I’m sorry about Becca.”

Ed scowled but took the gift, looking around at everyone watching him.

“And what’s this then?”

“Something for Molly and Mr. Rabbit.”

Ed did a double take, scrutinizing Kris before putting his daughter down. When he was sure she wasn’t going to run off, her mood shifting towards bashful as she clutched her father’s trousers, hiding behind them, he unwrapped the box. He pulled out a knitted hat, turning it over before freezing.

“Where did you get this?” Ed breathed tightly.

Sam perked up like you while Janine shifted subtly forward to see what was off. It was a knitted blue cap Molly’s size with a white “M” woven into it.

“She started it early,” Kris said gently. “She needed to keep her hands busy, but she didn’t get to finish Mr. Rabbit’s, so I did the honors.”

“Mr. Harrison,” Janine prompted after Ed stared at Kris for so long.

“Um--it’s Becca’s work,” he said, having to clear his throat a few times. “She made me one just like this a few years ago, with an “E”, you know--for um Ed... and she said she wanted to make one for Molly because it would get cold, and she didn’t want the cold to get Molly anymore than dem zombs.”

He swallowed, looking down at Molly who was toying with his trousers, obliviously gnawing on her stuffed rabbit’s ear. He turned the hat inside out and pointed at the thread.

“Here. You see this knot,” Ed said. “Even though you’re not really supposed to, she always knots the end three times after she weaves the finishing stitch back in just to make sure it won’t come loose… I know this is her work, but I haven’t seen it before.”

The box was tilted enough in his slack grip to show a smaller matching hat with an embroidered “R”.

“Five,” Kris called, keeping a gentle eye on Ed, and you stepped forward. “I usually don’t have gifts for adults, barring a few, but I thought this year needed to be extra special.”

Kris reached into the definitely empty sack and pulled out a smaller box (f-ck that), handing it to Ed who took it after staring at it for a few seconds. He didn’t hesitate to open this one, and he revealed a few compact disc cases, newer looking than anything you’ve seen in a while. You could see race cars on the cover.

“How…” Ed trailed off, and he looked at Kris with a look of growing awe and disbelief. “You can’t be.”

Kris grinned, tapping his nose. A slow smile crossed Ed’s face before he let out an abrupt laugh, shaking his head. You ignored Sam repeatedly slapping your arm, incoherently squealing under his breath.

“I think I’m going crazy,” Ed muttered then added a quiet, “Thank you,” with a small but sincere smile.

“Take care of this special girl,” Kris said.

Kris waved at Molly who waved back shyly, babbling and giggling. Ed packed all the gifts back into the larger box and picked up Molly, balancing everything and stepping back, still staring at Kris.

“A--an intriguing display, Mr. Kringle,” Janine said slowly. “However, I do not bel--”

“Not done yet, dear,” Kris interjected (casually missing her glare this time), reaching in the sack that you helpfully held up, curious to see where this was going.

“What he get you, mate?” you could hear Simon questioning Ed.

“Driving games. I… I told Jack and Eugene I wanted a few,” Ed muttered, pulling the knitted hat on over Molly’s head then one on Mr. Rabbit, much to the tot’s excitement.

“George, for you and Lizzie,” Kris said, tossing the gifts to the hovering guard then reaching in for more.

He started calling out names, and each person came forward, at first with caution and exchanged glances. But as gifts were unwrapped with shocked gasps or excited exclaims, there was less hesitation each time, an eager energy taking over the gathering. Rajit started crying when he unwrapped a professionally printed version of his novel. George stood stunned, clutching the doll Lizzie had been asking for and the old board game they used to play as a family on game nights.

“Okay, okay! Everyone calm down!” Janine yelled, dampening the growing cacophony. “Please move along.”

There were protests, but eventually everyone but the runners and Sam left (though people hovered nearby). Sam had his hood pulled tight over his head, vibrating in place. Janine turned to Kris who was waiting with a satisfied expression. She pinched her nose before looking heavenward.

“I--I cannot believe I am saying this, but um,” Janine managed before sighing. “...what do you need us to do, Mr. Kringle?”

Sam whooped.

---

“All right, Runners! Are you ready to save Christmas?” Sam said through your headset an hour later, his voice giddy.

No one had managed to calm him down since Kris asked if he could sit with him in the comms shack, his leg making him unable to help with the physical journey. You readjusted the red sack you had tossed over your shoulder, identical ones in the hands of the other runners. Kris had pulled more out of his original “dimensionally transcendental or perhaps it contains a transversable Einstein-Rosen wormhole--how do you keep it from collapsing without an infinite source of exotic matter--the implications it has on the modified theory of general relativity blah blah blah” (according to Chris who you ended up tuning out) “Magic Sack of Wonders” (according to Sam).

“Let’s get this show on the road,” Simon said through the comms link.

“Ready, Sam,” confirmed Jody.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Sara sighed, done with everything before it even started.

A cherry “Ready!” from Maggie, “Let’s get this done” from Evan, confusing muttering from Chris’s side of the link, and affirmations from the rest of the runners. You tapped twice, and the siren blared at Sam’s direction.

“Raise the gates!”

---

“So, what’s the plan, Sam?” Sara said minutes later after you and she split up from the other runners who had other settlements as their destinations. “One that won’t have New Canton shooting us down where we stand. Five and I are not exactly on their Nice List. Not after the stunts we pulled.”

Jody and Simon were heading to Brunswick, Maggie and Chris to Red Settlement, Fiona and Charlie to New Skoobs, and Evan and Bonnie were making the long journey to Mullins, planning on taking one of the motorbikes Ed had told them about for part of the journey.

“Um--you each have those tree ornaments S-Santa gave you?” Sam said, voice cracking.

“If you die from overexcitement on us...” Simon jokingly threatened through your headset.

The radio operator giggled manically then cleared his throat, quietly coaching himself to some level of calm under his breath.

“We’ve got them, Sam,” Jody responded.

“Good. Good. So, they, um--they’re magical ornaments, and they uh make people trust you more--am I getting that right, Santa?”

“Magic’s not real,” Chris muttered. “If anything, it would be complex scientific phenomena that we cannot yet explain. If I could ju--”

“Maybe later, Chr--uh Ten. Okay?” Maggie soothed, diverting him from another ramble.

The relief was shared and audible among you all, more than one sigh coming through the link.

“Call me Kris please, Sam,” Kris said before speaking to you all, casually over the wheeze of the radio operator. “They each contain a remnant of what some would call the Spirit of Christmas… or of the Holidays. When you turn them on, they should remind everyone in your vicinity of the holiday season, what it smells like, tastes like, sounds like to them.”

“You can’t be--”

“It’s okay, Chris. You can debate Santa later.”

“People tend to be calmer and more welcoming in response,” Kris continued, ignoring the interruptions. “Just don’t turn them on too soon, or you may find yourself too relaxed to react to threats in your environment, say… the zombies approaching Runner Seven’s projected route from the east. Sam?”

“Right, Sa-Kris,” Sam said, taking a breath before continuing. “Runner Seven, I need you to speed up. You should be able to pass ahead before they intersect you.”

“Got it, Sam,” Evan said. “Come on, girl. Let’s outrun some zombies.”

You heard Bonnie bark once excitedly, and the Head of Runners chuckled. You and Sara were making good time, and you figured you could be there and back before the sun set too much--assuming New Canton actually cooperated and didn’t--you know--mow you down with prejudice. Kris was humming under his breath, and you snickered when you recognized “Run, Rudolph, Run”.

“So… Kris,” Sam said after a few minutes, trying and failing to sound casual. Kris hemmed, and Sam continued, “Do you read all the letters sent to you every year?”

“As many as I can. I get quite a lot,” Kris said. “When I’m working, sometimes, I’ll have an elf read them outloud to me.”

“Really?”

Kris chuckled.

“Nah… I mean, not anymore. It’s not the Dark Ages--the original one anyways. I have an audio program on my computer that can read them to me.”

“Wow… Five, Eight, turn left up ahead. You’re almost to New Canton.”

“Can see it up on the hill,” Sara responded. “Ready on your mark.”

“Good. Wait until you are spotted.”

“Received.”

The old castle grew larger on the horizon, and you and Sara took a less direct route, hoping to get closer, so they could be in vocal range and not just rifle range.

“I’ve seen your letter on Rofflenet,” Kris said.

Sam choked, coughing. You tapped the headset once paused then twice.

“I’m fine, Five,” he assured, voice rough. “What do you mean? I didn’t--I haven’t written a letter in years--I mean--”

“Sam, I have received a letter from you every year since you’ve learned to write, and I’ve read every single one of them,” Kris said gently. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. There is nothing wrong with being a True Believer. It’s actually remarkable you’ve managed to hold onto your belief in the magic and joy of Christmas all these years.”

“My mum--she would help me write them when I was a kid,” Sam admitted. “And when I was older, she would ask me if I wrote mine yet. I thought I was too old to be writing to Santa, but she said you’d be sad if I stopped. I guess--I just…”

“I’m sorry about your parents, Sam, but I’m certain they’d be proud of you if they were here.”

There was a sharp, wet inhale before the line was cut from the comms shack. You looked at Sara, but she had her eyes forward, scanning the castle looming before you. You could just make out figures on the high walls when an intercom came to life.

“Runners from Abel Township! Stop where you are, or we will shoot to kill!” a soldier’s voice boomed over your heads. “You have some nerve coming this way again!”

“Five,” Sara called, pulling out her ornament and clutching it tightly. “Time to--oh, G-d. I can’t believe I’m about to say this.” She breathed. “Time to turn on our magical ornaments.”

You grinned at the pain in her voice, pulling your ornament until the halves separated. Turning them in opposite directions, you pushed them back together with a click. There was a pause. You held your breath.

The ornament began to light up, and you could hear the crackling of firewood and heady taste of cinnamon and apples coated your tongue. Your mouth started watering, chest panging as you took a deep breath filled with the strong scent of roasted pine cones.

“Do not make me repeat my--what…” the voice faltered. “What is…? Do you smell cookies, Tim? It’s… double chocolate chip and fudge. Just like my Nan’s… I--I haven’t smelled…”

The intercom died, and you could see figures converging before a few split off and disappeared below. The longer you stood there, the warmer your fingers felt, like when you would stretch them out over the flames. You heard a quiet sniff, but Sara was already turning away, a hand subtly brushing over her face. You looked forward again.

The intercom came on again.

“Abel Runners! Approach with your hands in the air! Guards will meet you at the gate! You better have a good reason for being here!”

“--aven’t heard this song since my pa--” another voice said in the background.

The intercom cut off, and you and Sara looked at each other before holding up your hands and walking forward.

---

It went--as well as one could expect. You endured the jeers from the guards that gave way to shock then confusion and elation as you did what had worked at Abel. When you reached into your “empty” bag, rifles aimed at you, you always found your fingers brushing one box more with the name of an individual present. When you handed it over to the suspicious recipient, you got to watch the skepticism melt away as their eyes widened, unbidden smiles breaking through.

Each reaction caused your smile to grow larger, a warm feeling filling you as eyes lit up. You were starting to get really into this, and you could even see Sara bantering with the guards and joining in with the teasing when guards got gifts that, though it was something they wanted, was a bit embarrassing to open up around their fellow colleagues.

“Do you have a central area where we can leave these, Robbie?” Sara asked the guard from the intercom who had a great sense of humor that didn’t come across when he was threatening to shoot… figures. “At this rate, we’ll be here all week.”

“This way,” Robbie said, a small smirk on his face as he dramatically bowed and gestured for you to proceed with him. “The mess hall should work. We just set up a tree some of our runners cut down. The kids are decorating it.”

People stepped aside as you passed by, watching with wariness or confusion as the guards around you joked and regaled you and Sara with some runner shenanigans or New Canton events. When someone drifted into your vicinity, they would pause, faces scrunching up as the magic of the ornaments enveloped them. Some would laugh, beam, look around wildly, or start to tear up. You gained a few followers, New Canton residents just as curious as Abel’s.

By the time you reached the mess hall, the crowd behind you was large. They spread out, filling up the room slowly as you and Sara headed towards the sizable tree surrounded by children who were attaching handmade decorations with the help of adults. You could see popcorn chains, paper ornaments, cotton, and more. It was haphazard but beautiful nonetheless.

The children looked up and backed away as they stared at all the people entering. Their minders pulled them closer when they recognized your Abel gear. You and Sara stood there in front of the tree, trying to decide your plan, ignoring the people muttering behind you. You kneeled down and started laying out gifts one by one, occasionally handing one to a curious child who had wandered over to see what you were doing, the gift always belonging to the person nearest you. However, you recognized a problem quickly, and so did Sara. She stepped back and turned on her transmitter.

“Sam, Kris,” she called. “We cannot pull these out one by one.”

“Turn your bags upside down,” Kris instructed. “Carefully.”

When both you and Sara did so, gifts came tumbling out. The voices around you got louder, people shouting and moving closer with each materialized box. You walked backwards, following the perimeter of the room, children rushing after you to pick up boxes and pile them closer to the tree. That allowed you to loop back.

Soon enough, large piles surrounded the tree even as people passed boxes around. Children were running around with their new toys and clothes, tugging at their parents’ sleeves. People gushed over their hammers, new boots, playing cards, and packets of hot cocoa. You saw more than one person crying over their half opened box, being consoled by someone else, but there was always a watery smile on their face. Laughter filled the room, the grim faces easing under more than the thrall of your ornament which was only a remnant of the Spirit of the Holidays, paling in comparison to the full joy and cheer that went beyond this room, spreading through the settlement.

You had more than one set of small arms wrap around your legs, and without malice or distrust, people greeted, thanked, and joked with you, handing you a cup of hot cider you sipped at carefully when you paused for a break.

You saw Sara examining a new knife a New Canton runner received, showing the younger woman a few moves. Robbie and Tim watched, their rifles abandoned on their backs as they asked questions or threw in some pointers. Someone had started singing some carols, and more and more people joined in, laughing over mis-sang or forgotten lyrics.

Even so, you knew there were more people than gifts you poured out. You tapped on Sara’s shoulder and held up your sack before miming it towards the people around you.

“Five wants to know if they can leave their sack with someone in New Canton,” Sara relayed. “I suspect there are more gifts to give.”

“The magic of the bags and ornaments end at midnight on Christmas night,” Kris said. “No harm leaving it behind.”

You flagged down a runner who had 20 on her armband.

“Hello. Hi. What’s this?” she said as you handed her sack. “Oh, you’re giving me your magic bag of endless presents. How exciting. I am curious to see how this works. It looks very empty, but I watched you pulling out box after box. Let’s see if I can do it too.”

She reached in, face lighting up as she felt something, and she pulled out a box. She squinted at it, turning it around in her hands until she found the card tucked under the bow.

“And it has my name on it! Archie Jensen. That’s brilliant. Can’t wait to see what’s in it. I wished for a lot of things.”

She tried to hand the sack back, but you held up your hands, shaking your head.

“What? You don’t want it back now?”

You shook your head again, and she frowned before realization dawned on her face.

“You have to go now, don’t you?” Archie asked, and she looked sad when you nodded. “Shame. Well… don’t get bitten or blown up or shot or who knows what else. I hope to see you again, Runner Five. Hopefully we won’t be trying to kill each other because our leaders are fighting again--like we aren’t all just trying to survive. Living killing the living while we have dead trying too.”

You held out a hand, but she pushed past it to hug you tight enough that you were certain your ribs shifted a bit.

“Bye, Five. Bye, Sara,” she said, clutching her box and the bag to her chest, beaming.

It was a while before you could really leave as people wanted to personally wish you well and happy holidays. Before you and Sara made your way out, you attached your frosted ornament to their tree and admired its soft glow.

“Let’s go, Five,” Sara said, Robbie waiting by her side.

You nodded, looking back once more before running towards them.

---

You and Sara turned your backs on New Canton, looking out at the setting sun.

“We should be able to make it back before dark if we’re quick, Five,” Sara assured. “We’re heading back out now, Sam.”

“All right. Head home, runners. You did great work today,” Sam said proudly. “Even zombies can’t stop Christmas.”

“Ho, ho, ho,” Kris chimed in. “Well said, Sam.”

Sara’s sack was also gone, but she still clutched her ornament for comfort or assurance--who knew. Your fingers still felt comfortably warm, and you could always catch a faint wisp of fresh pudding.

“Me and Four are finishing up here,” Simon reported, shouting over the sound of children laughing and people singing in his background. “We’ll leave once Jody digs herself out from under a pile of imps.”

The squeals pitched before he cut his transmission. Evan reported that he was nearing Mullins Base and would be staying overnight while Maggie and Chris were still at Red Settlement. Charlie and Fiona had just reached New Skoobs themselves, and they said they were probably staying there as well.

“So, Santa,” Simon spoke up when you and Sara were halfway back to Abel. “Got any presents waiting for us back at Abel? Us Runners must be on the top of your Nice List.”

“You, Simon Lauchlan, have been on my Naughty List since the day you released three pigs in your school when you were fifteen,” Kris said drily.

The comms link was flooded with laughter and jeers.

“Yeah, yeah,” Simon said, a smirk clear in his voice. “The ladies find it nice when I’m a little naughty.”

Your groan wasn’t alone. Charlie even booed.

“Did you really release pigs in your school, Three?” Sam asked.

“Yeah. It was a prank me and my mates pulled. We painted three pigs with 1, 2, and 4 and let them loose. It took them all day to catch them, but they spent a week looking for a fourth pig. It was worth getting my ears boxed by my mum when we got caught. Best prank I ever pulled. Still proud of it.”

“Of course you are,” Jody said, sounding out of breath.

There was a child screaming right by her microphone, causing you to wince.

“You alright there, Four?” Sam asked.

“Just finishing things up,” she said. “Be on our way back now, Sam.”

“Good. Goo--”

“Sam. Will you take a look at this?” Kris interjected.

“Let me see… oh. Uh oh. That’s--that’s not--Five, Eight. I don’t mean to alarm you, but well… about twenty zombies are converging on your location. I don’t understand--they’re coming from different directions. What is attracting them?”

You smiled at Sara, certain that Sam will figure it all out because he was really smart. Sara had a serene expression, and she winked at you. You giggled.

“...are you laughing, Five? Your laugh is lovely, but this is not the time to laugh. More are approaching. You and Eight need to speed up.”

You covered your mouth, but more chuckles escaped. Still, you did pick up the pace with Sara matching you. You could hear the whistling groans growing closer, but you focused on your warm fingers and roasted pine cones and warm pudding.

“They’re surrounding you two! There’s almost forty now,” Sam sounded more stressed than you thought was warranted. “What is happening?! Okay, okay. No need to panic. Five, Eight, you have a small window. Keep going the direction you’re heading, but you have to pick up the pace, or else they’ll cut you off.”

“Don’t worry, Sam,” Sara said warmly. “Five and I will be fine.”

You saw the zombies shambling out from behind buildings and trees, coming from all directions. There were a few in front of you, but you gave them a wide berth. The sound of their moans was thunderous.

“I would have to disagree… why do you sound so calm?” Sam asked as you ducked under a zombie’s arm.

“Sara, Five,” Kris called. “Did you turn off your ornaments?”

“Five left theirs at New Canton, but I still have mine. I didn’t want to risk those guards shooting us in the back, so I kept it on. Plus… it smells like sweet potato pie. It was my boys’ favorite.”

You wiggled your warm fingers.

“Do you think that’s what’s attracting the zombs, and why Eight and Five aren’t taking this seriously?” Sam asked.

“It’s definitely what’s keeping them so calm--too calm,” Kris said, “but I wasn’t aware of it having any effect on the undead.”

“Umm… I have a theory,” Chris piped up over the link. “You said the ornaments trigger sensory cues that people associate with festivity and the holidays. Could it be possible that they can tap into residual brain activity? Though the brains have mostly decayed, the zombies may still be drawn towards the source of the stimuli.”

“It’s… possible,” Kris granted. “Never had the chance to test it. It sounds reasonable.”

“Eight, turn off your ornament,” Sam ordered.

Sara hesitated but did so, and your fingers cooled, the scent of pudding giving way to rotting flesh. You jumped back as a zombie swung at you. You managed to stay on your feet and skirt around it.

“Sam!” Sara yelled. “We need an out. Now!”

“Just run!”

You could practically feel fingers brushing your back, and you swang your bat at a zombie reaching for you as Sara impaled one through the eye with her knife, a squelch following a wet smack.

“Ooh…” Sam cringed before crowing, “That’s what I call teamwork! Keep going though. You can’t fight them all.”

“Five?” Sara called. “Do you hear that?”

Through the moans and groans, you heard familiar bells and clopping. A great pair of antlers butted a zombie to the side, the reindeer shaking its head with a grunt. It scrapped its hoof on the ground, looking at you and Sara as you ran by it. You weaved and jumped through zombies, seeing your narrow path of escape closing by the second. You heard another squelch, and you had to behead your own zomb soon after.

“Hear what?” Sam asked anxiously.

“Just a bl--dy reindeer, Sam,” Sara panted, a painful sounding cough working its way out.

“Five, whistle at it,” Kris commanded. “Loud and clear.”

You did so, and you heard hooves clattering over pavement behind you. You glanced back to see the reindeer charging towards you, mowing down any zombies in its path. You suddenly heard more bells and hooves approaching, and a second reindeer then a third appeared, rounding the corner and running straight towards you and Sara.

“Five,” Kris started, but you already had a hand out as the antlers came up beside you. “Grab on.”

You did and swang yourself up on the reindeer’s back, grabbing at the torn reins from which hung the golden bells that rang so sharply amongst the moans. You wrapped your hands in them, bending low and bracing your legs, feeling the creature’s solid muscles moving under your thighs.

“You must be joking,” Sara coughed, but she ran towards one of the other reindeer despite her protests.

“Come on, Eight. How many people get to say they rode Santa’s reindeer?”

She didn’t bother dignifying that with a response and managed to clamber up on her chosen mount. Your reindeer lowered its head and whipped a zombie out of its way. You cheered, giggling wildly. Moving faster than you ever could on your feet, the reindeer carrying you and Sara burst free just before the zombies closed in, and you left them in your dust, their moans fading in the distance as the sun set.

---

By the time you saw Abel, the sun was nearly gone, and you had collected six more reindeer and four more runners. All of the reindeer ran behind you in pairs with you on the one leading in the front. Simon finally stopped clutching at his reindeer like it was going to throw him while Jody rode like a natural. Maggie looked less shaky and was keeping an eye on Chris who looked green around the edges.

You patted the head of the reindeer you rode. Though it was panting, your reindeer kept going, quick as a comet which you realized was its name from the loose tag on the back of its neck. Good boy.

“That’s what I call riding in style, run--no, riders,” Sam said. “Raise the gates! First wave of Santa’s elves are back for the night.”

The reindeer balked but did not flee from the sirens, and you coaxed them though the gates, swinging down once Comet settled. You stroked his head, grinning. You felt very sore from riding bareback, but it was better than being eaten, so you couldn’t complain. You saw Maggie helping Chris down, steadying the runner as he swayed, rubbing his back soothingly.

“You did good work, runners,” Kris said. “Sleep easy knowing you brought much joy in a time that very much needed it.”

“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m knackered,” Sam yawned.

You groaned as the others jeered. The late shift guards approached, eyeing the reindeer cautiously. You submitted yourself to your bite check.

“Being an operator is hard work too,” Sam protested, his grin audible. “Sleep well, runners. You did great.”

“Thanks, Sam,” Jody said as he signed off.

“What do you think they’re going to do with the big guy?” Simon asked.

“Hey, Five,” Sara called, stealing your attention as she tossed you her ornament. “Give this back to Kris or hang it on the tree for me. I don’t care. I’m gonna check in with Janine.”

You nodded, eyeing the ornament as she left, but besides its one unfortunate side effect, it was still pretty neat (and magic).

“What do we do with the reindeer?” one of the guards, Joe, asked quietly, but you were already walking away, your feet dragging.

You vaguely remember turning on and hooking the ornament on the tree in Abel’s square, your fingers warming and smelling pudding and pine cones, before you fell face first into your cot and passed out.

---

Abel was a different place when you woke up Christmas morning. The first sign was the candy cane hanging outside of your room when you stepped out in your gloves and scarf. Curious, you pulled it down, and you looked, seeing more hanging on the doors of other runners. Shrugging, you stuffed it in your pocket.

You exited the runners’ quarters and stilled, eyes widening. Paper snowflakes hung from fairy lights and tinsel that were wrapped around the comms shack nearby. You realized that it wasn’t the only building that was decorated while you slept. So were the runners’ quarters and all the buildings you could see as well. Soft holiday music drifted in the air, emitting from the intercoms.

As you wandered towards the square, you could hear activity, the sound of shrieking, laughter, and talking growing louder. You saw people admiring the tree, and you could see why. First off, it was not that tall or green last night, and it was gorgeously decorated with tinsel, lights, popcorn, and ornaments, some handmade and others well crafted. There were also some gifts piled under it, but not as many as you would expect for how many people resided in Abel.

Yet, people buzzed with excitement, the situation becoming clearer as you drifted through towards the kitchen.

“--found it right outside my room. I haven’t seen a complete deck since the outbreak. They were worth an arm and a leg before.”

“They’re so warm, and they are just my size too!”

“It will make my job so much easier. My old one was growing really dull, and it j--”

“Runner Five!”

You turned to see Jack jogging towards you, Eugene trailing behind him with his crutches.

“Glad we caught you,” Jack said, beaming. “We heard you had a real adventure yesterday, and we thought perhaps you might want to talk about it.”

“Hello, Five,” Eugene greeted much calmer, eyeing his partner with fond exasperation. “Sleep well?”

You nodded, grinning as Jack rolled his eyes at this clear waste of time.

“Me and Gene want to interview you. Nothing like a grand tale of zombie grinches and Christmas miracles to bring hope to the people,” Jack continued. “Just let u…”

You didn’t have time to wonder why the radio host trailed off, eyes widening, when you felt a puff of air brush your neck. Wet lips nibbled at your hair, and you turned. Comet grunted at you, nosing your clothes. You stood still, unsure what to do.

“He’s looking for sugar,” Kris said, coming up behind his reindeer and stroking Comet’s side fondly. “You don’t happen to have a sugar cube or candy on you, do you?”

You frowned before perking up, reaching in your pocket and pulling out the candy cane. Comet reached for it, but you held it back, looking at Kris.

“He can have one,” Kris said. “More than that, and he’ll upset his stomach--again.”

The reindeer grunted. You unwrapped the cane and held it out, smiling as Comet gobbled it up, petting his neck.

“I wish I had a camera,” Eugene muttered behind you.

There was a flash, and you blinked your eyes clear to see Charlie grinning.

“Guess who got a camera for Christmas!”

“Ooh! Take a picture of me and Genie,” Jack crowed.

He posed with Eugene who shifted his crutches to the side to wrap his arm around Jack’s waist, smiling. Charlie took multiple pictures, and before the last one, Eugene pressed a kiss to Jack’s cheek, setting the other man’s face ablaze in time for the flash.

“Eugene!”

Eugene swung his way to peer over Charlie’s shoulder as she shook out the little pictures the camera emitted. He cackled as he got a good look at the developing photo, Charlie laughing with him.

“I’ll be keeping that,” Eugene said, taking the photo with a grin when it was done. “Get a tan, Jack. You go from ghost to tomato in seconds.”

The reindeer butted you, checking you for more treats, but you just stroked Comet’s head, nosing him back.

“He’s taken a liking to you,” Kris commented. “He’s usually much more temperamental.”

You wiggled your nose at Comet who snorted in your face, his breath warm and rank. You gagged, and Kris chuckled deeply. You looked at him, taking the time to study him and his new appearance. He had changed into overalls and flannel, looking at ease despite the cold weather. He saw you looking.

“I didn’t bring a spare suit,” Kris protested, and you held up your hands in surrender, grinning as he laughed more. “The good doctor took care of my leg as well. Now, will you show me the way to the kitchen? I’m feeling peckish.”

Your stomach growled on cue, and you nodded, weaving your way through the people, many of which moved aside, watching the mythical man trialing after you with a reindeer. You ignored it, listening as Kris told you a little bit about his travels before the apocalypse.

“I was always fond of Egypt. Their kahks are delicious.”

“Five! Over her--Oh, Kris! Hi!”

Kris chuckled as Sam waved wildly, beaming out from under the great red hat that was perched on his head, slipping over his brow. Maxine had to push it back up before it fell off his face, and he shot her a grateful smile.

“He deserved it,” Kris explained at your glance. “Santa’s True Believer. He doesn’t know it yet, but that hat will bring him much fortune if he manages to hold onto it.”

Simon, Jody, Maggie, and Chris were at the table as well, and you saw Fiona at another. She and Charlie must have gotten in earlier.

Chris didn’t even look up from the red sack he was examining in his lap, but Maggie smiled from beside him, waving and moving over to let Kris in after you approached with your trays, and you squeezed in next to Sam, brushing shoulders with him. Comet lingered by the table, people skirting around him though they watched him with curiosity.

You tapped your nose three times, pointing at the hat, and Sam stuck out his tongue.

“I think I rock it, right, Maxine?”

“It’s definitely--something,” Maxine dodged, smiling at you. “Morning, Five. How are you feeling?”

You see-sawed your hand, and she hummed sympathetically, her head bobbing.

“If you need anything, come see me later.”

You nodded, rubbing your sore legs.

“Coming to the party later?” Simon asked.

“Janine cleared it?” Jody asked with a frown.

“Nope,” he snorted. “Coming?”

“I’ll probably stop by.”

“That’s the one Jack and Eugene were planning, right?” Sam asked, stealing a banger off your tray, smiling innocently with it shoved in his mouth.

Disgusting.

“Yup. They said they’ve got the good booze,” Simon tempted.

“Whiskey, and I’m in,” Maggie said.

“I’m sure I could scour up some, Maggie,” Kris said with a mischievous smile.

She quirked a brow, and when he grinned, she laughed.

“Good luck getting your sack back from Chris. I just barely managed to stop him from unravelling it.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Chris mumbled to himself, running his fingers over it.

“It’s all right, Chris,” Maggie said, patting his shoulder. “It’s magic.”

“It’s advanced technology.”

“Okay.”

“Sam Yao, please report to the comms shack,” Janine said over the intercom, drawing people’s attention as it briefly interrupted the ambient music.

Sam sighed but pushed himself up.

“I have to get Evan back to Abel. I’ll see you at the party later, right, Five?”

You nodded, and he grinned, taking his empty tray with him. You fed Comet some boiled carrots and beans, his lips running over your palm for every scrap.

“I have to go too,” Maxine announced. “I want to organize my supplies before tonight. I plan on getting completely wasted. Don’t get any fatal injuries between today and tomorrow because I won’t be any help.”

You snickered.

“What did you get, Five?” Jody asked once Maxine left. “I got new knitting needles and some really good yarn.”

Your brows furrowed, wondering if you had perhaps overlooked your own box.

“Oh, I have not yet given Five their gift, Jody,” Kris said, smiling at you. “I wanted to deliver it personally since they did save my life yesterday.”

“Bet it won’t top my new football,” Simon challenged before you could respond.

You bared a sharp smile at Simon as Jody elbowed him. He protested, rubbing his arm, overacting the severity of the pain.

“I made an exception this year, Simon, but you are still on my Naughty List. Remember that.”

“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, Santa.”

---

At the party later that Janine totally did not know about (she was in the corner sharing a drink with Sara who was holding a plate of sweet potato pie), you sat comfortably in the rec building with the quickly knitted elf hat that Jody threw at you (before she started on another, having already completed one for Simon, Maggie, and Chris) on your head.

Sam was coming back over from the buffet table, balancing cups filled to the brim with various drinks. He still wore his Santa hat with pride despite how much ribbing he was subjected to. Maxine gratefully accepted her cup, following through with her plan to get utterly sloshed tonight.

“Runner Five. If I may steal you for a moment.”

You looked up at Kris, who waved away another child, and stood, following him to a corner, avoiding Jack and Eugene who found and were making good use of some mistletoe. You looked at Kris who was reaching in his pocket. He pulled out a small wrapped box. You took it curiously.

“Be assured, Five, your friends have met all your desires, hiding their gifts for you away by the tree,” Kris said. “You have been a good friend to them, and they wish to show you their gratefulness. All the practical matters have been left to them. I have something a little more… metaphysical that I believe you have deserved. Open it.”

You used your nail to tear and peel back the wrapping, prying open the lid. Inside was a familiar golden bell, one of the many you saw sewn onto Comet’s reins. You picked it up, shaking the bell to hear its sharp jangle.

“Five, if you should ever be in great need of something, hold the thought of it in your mind and ring this bell,” Kris said, catching your eyes gravely. “It will only work once, so I trust that you will use it wisely.”

You clutched the bell tightly in your hand, giving a determined nod, trusting his word. The bell slowly warmed in the heat of your palm. You would be careful with it.

“Stay alive, Five, and take care of you and your friends,” Kris said. “They’re counting on you, and I know you are up to the challenge. Happy Christmas.”

Kris pressed a finger to his nose and winked before fading before your eyes.

You blinked, staring at the wall confused. What were you doing in the corner by yourself? Weren’t you just… You turned and walked back to your friends, shaking your head.

“Nice hat, Sam,” Simon teased. “Did Five get that for you?”

“I… I’m not sure,” Sam said, clutching the red hat in his hands, frowning, but he shrugged, putting it back on. “I rock it though, right, Maxine?”

“It’s definitely--something,” Maxine slurred intoher cup.

“Five!” Sam called. “Where did you wander off to?”

You felt like you were missing something, but you couldn’t grab hold of it. You just shrugged, sitting next to him and accepting your cup with your free hand.

“Whatchu got there, Five?” Maggie asked.

You frowned, and she gestured at your other hand curled around something. You peeled back your fingers, revealing a golden bell that glistened brightly in the light.

“Where’d you find that?” Sam asked, peering at it, his hat’s bobble flopping in his face.

You… you weren’t sure, but you felt it was important. You shrugged and pocketed it, reaching out to tug Sam’s hat down over his face. He sputtered, spilling his drink a bit, and everyone laughed, falling over themselves in joyful (and drunken) abandon if only for tonight. Your chest was bursting with happiness, and you couldn’t wipe the grin off your face all night, pressing your cheek to Sam’s when Charlie called for you all to pose.

Her camera clicked and flashed, letting out a pop. Your face ached from smiling.

---

‘Twas the night after Christmas, and all the through the township

Not a corner was sans gayful laughter and friendship

Children shrieked as their parents smiled on

Friends teasing and jeering and bursting in song

Huddled with his runners laid a young operator

No longer a child yet still a True Believer

And at his side was faithful Runner Five

A willful spirit who will fight for Abel to thrive

There is much they will face, but for now they cheer

Knowing that, in this moment, they had nothing to fear

And though midnight passed, and magic faded from their minds

On the tree in the square, an ornament hung and still shined

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