#ooc / holly's corner

[deathbind]

I was getting thrown off for a bit thinking I'd removed too much conflict from Serot's first life (because you need some kind of conflict for character purposes). But no, I didn't. I just forgot the Anactaci were not an easy order to found. He was a ghul lord first, and ghul lords were deeply mistrusted during his lifetime. Some people even blamed them for the appearance of the kheprer. Their efforts against the kheprer, led by him, were a step toward changing that, but nothing happens over night. Ghul Lords also weren't united; they tended to work alone or with an apprentice.

I mean, Serot had a massive undertaking. He had to unite the ghul lords and keep them united. He had to change an entire culture's mind about necromancy. He was also altering Soshist + Meketi eschatology and funerary rites. Mummification had been a part of their rites for ages but not necromancy or the philosophy he presented alongside it. I can honestly say he didn't even plan for the Anactaci to become part of the priesthood, although he was amenable to it once it was proposed.

He ended up doing a lot more politicking than he'd ever thought he would. He went from a nobody farmboy from some backwater to one of history's greatest icons. I can't even say that Meresankh's support made things easier. It definitely gave him an opening to the halls of power and someone driving him ever forward, but Meresankh's motivations were selfish as well. Not entirely but significantly enough. And anyway, Meresankh needed Serot as much as Serot needed them. Perhaps even more. They were a young, untested monarch who had yet to challenge their regent's power. They needed a promising young hero like him to give them an edge. I'd say they even played a key role in pointing Serot toward the Anactaci joining with the Manthu; that would give Meresankh an ally in the priesthood, further solidifying their power.

Not that Serot is someone who can be easily led. He loved Meresankh. He overlooked a lot of their worst traits because of that love. But, he is a deeply principled individual, and when something rubs against those principles, he does not compromise. He will defend them fiercely against anyone. Which is really what caused their falling out. It wasn't just fear over how influential Serot had grown, although that contributed. It was that Meresankh couldn't control Serot, and their trust issues were too profound to simply have faith in him. They needed control; they needed assurances; they needed safeguards. But, it would never be enough — and anyway Serot wouldn't give that to them. He'd give them a lot but not that.

[lavndrrhaze]

weekends are when i'm busiest so i will probably be a little mia for the next two days, but then hop back on with my owes!!

[fvlsegcds]

mun tags

[bloodydayshq]

Bloody Days ‘Harps of Gold’

𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟓𝟓𝟗: It came upon a midnight clear, that glorious song of old; from angels bending near the earth, to touch their harps of gold.

With the arrival of the celebrated Yuletide, the court of William III travels upriver via royal barge to sit out the hard frost of December in the cheery splendour of Greenwich Palace – escaping the encroaching sickness of the city, and to rehabilitate with fresh, roaming air and ample opportunity to partake in exhilirating hunts. As the varied colours of fresh plants wither with the coming of nippy airs, the servants bring forth the evergreens to celebrate the continuous burst of life — holly, ivy and mistletoe adorn every wall and archway. Dried fruits swimming in bowls of wine are found at every corner; plums are offered to every pacing maiden, in exchange for punchy kisses. Alms are also passed out to the surrounding towns and hamlets to engorge the King's image of majestic generosity, and at every banqueting table magnificent roasts are served alongside endless gifts and trinkets, doled out to His Majesty's favourites. Each evening the feasting table erupts in boisterous cheer, toasts are made with hot ale and cider, pageants are orchestrated and delighted in, and as the clock strikes midnight, a mischievous Lord of Misrule will be chosen by pure happenstance to become the Earl of Ormond – ensuring no shortage of royal entertainment.

Enjoy this God-ordained land where Kings have been born and bred, for surrounded by wintry countryside they are blessed to enjoy the fruits of English wilderness, with bountiful hunts arranged for almost every other day in the name of that merry Yuletide. With each day emerges a new, sparkling competition to take part in – by order of the King, there will be jousts on marvellous horseback with knights of the holy garter fighting for the favour of any particular young maiden, the prize naming one the Champion of Yuletide. Hand-to-hand combat will also take place beneath a canopy of regalia; watch as metal clinks and children laugh and coins specially minted for the occasion are passed between gloved hands. Alongside the brawn of William's court are gentler affairs for the sweetened courtiers to take part in: recitals of poem, caroling and prayer will be followed by gift-giving and dances spun beneath flickering candelight. Each evening will be adorned with wondrous feasts in remembrance of the table set by the late King Henry VIII – yet amidst the joyousness, courtiers will find to moments of quiet contemplation to reflect on the true meaning of the holiday, for at the Tudor court, solemnity and piety lives in perfect harmony with the festive cheer. (As does, we might add, continuous scheming, plotting, and the hatching of nefarious plots...)

OOC DETAILS.

The game moves to Greenwich Palace to celebrate Yuletide and escape sickness running rampant in London. On December 15th (irl date May 26) the court will erupt in celebration with jousting, melee tournaments, merry recitals and humble gift-giving (competition will come down to the roll of a dice, and more details will be available in the discord!)

Handy Christmas Guide:

FOOD:

Leech: a sweet made from milk, sugar and rose-water, which has cut into cubes.

Sugar-plate: made from sugar, egg-white and gelatin, crafted to look like walnuts, eggs and other food like marzipan is today

Gilded-fruit: lemons were gilded and used to decorate the banquet table

The Marchpane: an arrangement made from almond past which was iced or gilded and then decorated with sugar figures and crystallised fruit, was the centrepiece of this court

Christmas Pudding: made from meat, spices and oatmeal and then cooked in the gut of a boar

Gingerbread: made from bread, ginger, spices, sugar and wine into a stiff paste which was then moulded

Mulled wine: wine heated and infused with sugar and spices

Syllabub: a hot milk drink flavoured with rum or wine and spices

Lambswool: a drink made from mixing hot cider, sherry or ale, apples and spices, the mixture was heated until it "exploded" and formed a white "woolly" head

The Christmas "minced pye": contained thirteen ingredients to symbolise Jesus and his apostles. It was a rectangular, or crib shaped, pie as opposed to our present day round ones, and it also contained minced meat rather than just dried fruit and suet, with the mutton symbolising the shepherds to whom the Angel Gabriel appeared

Events:

The Lord of Misrule: a commoner would be chosen as the "Lord of Misrule" and would be in charge of organising the entertainment and revelry for the Twelve Days of Christmas

Mummer's Plays with music and Morris dancing

Christmas Carols: sung around the great halls in the mornings

Wassailing: The enjoying of a communal cup of spiced ale.

[kismetharborapps]

Application wc Stevie's half sister

ooc information

name: care

preferred pronouns: she/her

age: 29

timezone: gmt

activity level: writing twice a week, with daily lurking on the dash. Mostly more active during the weekends

triggers: non

anything else?: x

character information

name: Bowie Brandes

faceclaim: Grace van Patten

gender & pronouns: cis-female // she/her 

age: twenty-eight

birthday: 1st of october

place of birth: San Diego, California, USA

occupation: Server at high pulse

neighborhood: Downtown

time since arriving in kismet harbor:  about two months, since the end of august 2024

filling a wanted connection?: Stevie Wagner’s unknown maternal half-sibling. 

biography: 

Born of the picture-perfect union between famous businessman Richard Brandes and his wife Holly Rivers, Bowie was one of three siblings. The model daughter and poster middle child. The apple of her father’s eye and the never far out of her brothers’ sight. The lives of the three kids were uncomplicated and free of worry. Growing up, they spend most time with their nannies. With their father away on business trips and with their mother always occupied elsewhere. Private schools provided them with the best of education and when grades failed, their private tutors would not. Friends came and went but were always there in abundance. Privileged as they were, though a bit lacking in parental love, there never seemed to be a cloud in the sky for the  siblings. 

When Bowie was 16, she began to notice a shift in her father’s behavior. He stayed at home more while busying himself with constant calls. Richard seemed to grow more frantic by the day, with sudden outbursts of rage directed at whoever would be closest. Her mother, who already seemed to be escaping the picture, distanced herself even more from her husband before his temper began to spark. Never making an attempt to defuse the situation. Simply avoided the man she had been married to in the furthest corner of their house. It was Bowie who took it upon herself to attempt to regulate her father’s outbursts. Trying everything within her power to distract him, please him. Jumping into the fray in order to keep the peace. It took over two years of constantly walking on eggshells and dancing to his every whim before the storm seemed to lay down. And whatever had clouded her father’s better judgment had disappeared like snow before the sun. 

Life went on and the middle Brandes sibling never strayed too far from home. Unlike her brothers, who chose to spend time in different states, Bowie went to UCLA. Instead of choosing to presuit finance of business, she chose to finish a degree in World arts and cultures. Even though her name certainly helped to get her into the prestigious university, her teachers did see her potential in the field. Her father, however, envisioned a different route for his daughter entirely. At the age of twenty-four, two years after she finished her studies,  she found herself in charge of the philanthropic branch of her brother’s newly founded company.  An idea created by the great mind of Richard Brandes. Like any good daughter, she took the seat within the family business which had been created just for her. She became the bright smiling face of successful fundraisers and social events, a socialite within the high society of the city. Living the poster life any young could only dream of… until someone dared to look behind the curtain.

It was a cold hot day in July 2023, with a fully booked schedule blowing up her phone, when her father was arrested for tax fraud. Her youngest brother and mother had been on vacation then, one from which she would find they would never return. They had tucked themselves away at a safe haven, along with some of the money, until the storm would die down. Her oldest brother stayed, choosing to support their father in court. It was then that she realized that everybody around her had known, had seen the signs, and she had been too blinded to see. For the first few months, she stayed around until the walls of the mansion began to feel like a luxurious trap. Whenever she took a step outside her door, a reporter was there waiting to get another angle on the story. - Like her mother and brother before her, Bowie chose to flee the scene. Loading up her pink toyota with whatever essential she might need for a very long road trip, with her bird in the passenger seat. 

During her digging for supplies for her road trip around the house, she found documents in her moms extravagant closet. Revealing secrets about a life she had led before meeting her father. After traveling for a few months aimlessly, it were these very documents that landed her in Kismet, Oregon. With few bucks left to her name, a feathery companion and little else but the items in her small car she found herself a new goal to chase in discovering the truth about a long lost half sister. 

other: https://svnkxssd.tumblr.com/ - pinterest : https://pin.it/7u6EJipju

pets: Dusty - the 4 year old rainbow common parakeet (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/f9/ac/b8/f9acb860c8b0eab23b3a07fc6f8d855c.jpg)

town activities: Nova conservation, Vino spell

draw of luck: yes!

[fairdoves]

like for a teen dawn starter ?  these can be set in either of dawn’s teen verses,  in both her family moved to the states as a teenager instead of her coming to the states during her college years like in canon !  

[adhonoremrp]

★ -- CHRISTMAS EVENT! -- ★

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is always a sight during the holiday seasons. The castle thresholds are decked with intricate boughs of holly and pine that twinkled with the enchantments of the more flourished professors. From the ceiling, snow is falling in individual flakes that dance delightfully in the breeze, yet never seem to touch the ground or chill the skin. The Grand Hall has been stripped of tables and converted into a dance floor. The lifted stage at the front of the room is prepared for musical performances. Sugar Plum Fairies flit and fly overhead lighting and blowing out the floating candles with bell-ringing giggles. Ice sculptures litter the concession tables on the far walls and corner. It is a winter wonderland. This year is more special than usual. It’s a big anniversary for Hogwarts - not just any anniversary, but Hogwarts has been educating and raising the youth of wizarding Britain for 1,000 years! In honor of this anniversary, Hogwarts is hosting a Yule Ball and inviting anyone and everyone - alumni, friends, family, members of wizarding institutions worldwide, anyone who knows what Hogwarts is. Faces from all across the world gather to mark the occasion. Hogwarts' doors have been opened for all to enjoy. Even the moving portraits have donned their gay apparel for the night's visitors. The holidays are, as ever, a time to join together and make merry!

OOC:

for our first christmas here at adhonoremrp, we wanted to do something special for you all!  here are a few things you need to know:

the ball is open to everyone who is a member of the magical world! (though i’m sure sneaky exceptions can be made for those who arent ;)) not just hogwarts students and alumni are invited to this party - everyone is! 

there is an exception with this event where you are able to start new threads during the event period that are not related to the event. this event is not compulsory, and if you do not want to participate, you are welcome to start threads pertaining to different things entirely!

please tag event starters and threads with ‘ahevent006′.

note: there has been a little time jump to catch up with our irl dates, the rp is now in early december!

the event will run from the 8th of december to the 22nd of december. merry christmas, adhonoremrp, and have fun! we love you all.

[zannilove]

Fifth Day of Christmas (12/17)

Title: Behind the Lights Theme: Lights/Decorating Fandom/Character(s): Tokyo Revengers/ Wakasa x fem!OC ex Warnings: a bit of angst towards the end, exes interacting Word Count: 1,160 Note: Wakasa is probably ooc, my friend is spoon-feeding me information about him as I write as I am not up to date on the manga.

~~~

Can you make sure you put up the rest of the decorations, please?

Lethargic eyes drag across the words note that was messily written on the memo board stuck to the center of the refrigerator by a rushing roommate. Dragging his sleeve across the silky black words which disappeared as his hand moved across the board, rolling his eyes before rummaging through the foods that were left over from the night before.

“Why do I have to put up lights?” Wakasa sighed, placing the food into the microwave, slamming it a bit harder than he intended. “We put up a tree.”

His tired gaze rolled out into the partially visible living room where the Christmas tree resided, its lights struggling to compete with the sunlight that poured in through the window. To say he was annoyed was an understatement, Wakasa had planned on relaxing all weekend while his holly jolly roommate set up for Christmas, but that changed when work called him away suddenly. Leaving the poor man to finish up the decorating before the festivities could commence.

The microwave dinged and Wakasa grabbed his food, shuffling to the table with his cellphone in hand. Scrolling through his contacts, the man was searching for someone who would come to help him get this done quickly and successfully. Slurping down the noodles, Wakasa put the phone to his ear listening as it rang out loudly.

“What do you want?” an irritated voice hissed through the speaker.

“Are you busy right now?”

“Do you know who this is?” the woman asked. Wakasa rolled his eyes, nodding at the question.

“Mina, I need your help…” there was a drawn-out silence as if both parties were waiting on the other to speak up, but neither did. “It’s Christmas related, please.”

“I’ll be there at around 3, but you owe me!”

The line dead out with a loud beep, the blond and purple haired man chucked his phone onto the table beside his plate, rolling his middle fingers over his temples with an exasperated sigh. This was going to be one hell of a day, but with Mine helping things would move a lot faster than it would if it were just Wakasa by himself. He would be lying if he said that he wasn’t looking forward to seeing her later, but that was a thought for even later.

---

5:45PM

Wakasa plopped a small box atop a short stack of bigger boxes in the corner of the living room, bells jingled around as he shifted the box back to ensure that the small tower didn't topple over. A soft knock on the door caught the man’s attention, pulling him away from the boxes. The knocking got progressively louder and more rapid like the person on the opposite end was frantic about getting into the apartment.

“Who is it?” Wakasa rested his hand on the doorknob, waiting patiently for the person to respond.

“It’s Pizza Slice delivery, obviously.” The woman scoffed, tapping her nails on the door as it creaked open revealing the streaky haired man.

A blonde-haired woman stood in front of the man surrounded by snow, a wide smile pulling at the corners of her mouth and a box of pizza in her hand. She thrusted the box into the man’s chest, pushing him backwards into the apartment while allowing herself to enter.

“You’re late.”

“I brought food.” She chimed gesturing towards the box that he was holding in his hands while kicking off her shoes and wiggling out of her jacket. “It’s still hot, so we should eat it now.”

Her catlike sapphire eyes scanned the apartment, examining the minimal decorations that we already set in place, eventually locking onto the streaky haired man who was disappearing into the kitchen. She absentmindedly followed behind him, peaking at him from around the corner.

“Let’s get started, I have plans.” Wakasa sighed, leading the woman back into the living room, actively ignoring the pout that plastered itself on her lips.

“A date?” Mina watched the man silently, her arms crossed over her chest with a displeased scowl.

“Put these up over there.” Wakasa shoveled the small jingling box in the woman’s arms and pointed to the dining room waving her away.

The pair went on unpacking all of the decorations, Mina was excited to string up a long strand of garland that was adorned with bells that would jingle whenever she moved them. There were hooks in place from previous holidays no doubt that made it that much easier to wrap the garland around the room. There were peppermint striped bows that she hung over the entrances to the kitchen and by the front door. Stopping to watch as Wakasa hung stockings over the fireplace and places little Christmas themed knick knacks between picture frames and the likes.

---

7:00PM

The pair sat at the table eating the pizza, which Wakasa noted was his favorite, surrounded by clutter from the Christmas boxes that they had yet to clean. Mina was busying herself with picking apart the pizza, removing a pepper or sausage here and there, before biting into the slice. The silence between the pair was lessened by the tv speaking in the background. Wakasa took a sharp breath, setting his food to the side.

“Mina—”

“Don’t do this.” She snapped staring down at the tablecloth. “I don’t want to go through it.”

They sat listening to the sounds of the TV and Mina’s nail pattering against the cloth. Wakasa watched as she fidgeted on the opposite end table. This was something he was used to; she would do it often whenever they sat like this or had any type of conversation or the lack thereof.

“Thank you for helping out, I appreciate it.”

Mina nodded fiddling with the crusts of her pizza, rolling them into a napkin that she had beside her. She was fighting the urge to yell at him, to cry and storm off, she was fighting it hard because she knew that this would be a possibility and she came despite that. She wanted to mend things but sitting at the table was bringing back memories she didn’t want to relive and didn’t want him to have to go through again.

“It’s getting kind of late.” Pushing away from the table quickly, the chair scraping against the floor. “I should be going.” Wakasa watched as the blonde shuffled through the apartment grabbing her coat and stomping into her shoes. He moved from the table to the front door, opening it to allow the teary-eyed woman to leave.

“I really am sorry for what happened, Mina.”

“It was nice seeing you again.” She flashed the man a teary-eyed smile before ducking out of the apartment. The door creaked as he closed it behind the woman, his tired eyes were glued to the door as if he was waiting for her to come back knocking, but that never came.

“I miss you”

[charrfie]

Alright now that its officially Forzen Friday let's try this post again since it didn't show up in the tags last time-

I'M FINALLY MAKING A FORZEN HC DUMP (kinda AU-ish territory but not really idk exactly) AND NONE OF YOU CAN STOP ME

There are also a few other hcs sprinkled in here related to other characters (like Darnold and Sunkist for example) but Forzen is the main focus!! Despite him being a minor character I latched onto him and fleshed him out sm yall have no idea

Everything under the cut bc this shit is gonna be LONG (and there's also some more doodles that take up a bit of space!)

Also uhh if people like this I might take one for another hlvrai character later bc I have a lot to say about everyone!!

Forzen moved from France to the US with his parents when he was around 12 or 13 (yes, I'm aware that Scorpy and Holly are French Canadian and not France French but that doesn't mean Forzen can't be, I'm just being sure to say this now before someone says something to me about it)

He wanted to go to college and eventually become a game dev, but he didn't have the funds or the support for it (his family thought anything to do with games would amount to a career that would go nowhere).

Because of this, he instead was recruited in the US military. He originally had no intent to join, but after constantly being harrassed recommended to join and being entertained with the concept of being able to afford and pay for college, he caved (hence him telling the science team that his only goal is "to graduate").

He doesn't like his job very much if that wasn't clear.

And neither do most others that have the same job like him.

He was put on a "team" of his own, Team Nice, which was likely arranged as a guaranteed way to get Forzen in the way of danger, and with no one else fighting beside him, he would be easily dealt with- no one would have to worry about him bothering them again. However, he somehow manages to survive all of this, of course. Somehow. He likely knows the real reason he was assigned his own team (if you can even call it that), but refuses to fully acknowledge it for his own sanity, and instead pretends that he's some big, important person on a team that ranks so highly, he's the only one qualified to be in it. (I apologize ahead of time for giving one of the most shitposty and throwaway characters in hlvrai this much depth and angst, there was just potential there leave me alone)

Fast forward to the actual events of hlvrai though. This hc is a little outlandish but I really like the concept!!! So, at one point, Forzen is killed, presumably by some kind of creature that was out and about due to the RenCas. The science team + Benrey stumble across him (act 2 part 2 at around 13 min in for anyone curious), and Benrey decides to use the healing beam Sweet Voice on him. While Benrey and Forzen may not be on good terms anymore, Benrey still very begrudgingly cares about him and didn't want to see him get injured or die. Forzen wakes up a minute or so after the science team exits the room, assuming that he just passed out, nothing more, and goes along with things as normal.

He meets Darnold a while after his first (concious) run in with the science team. Darnold has recently dealt with the science team and helped them out, but is pretty bummed that he couldn't travel with them, as everything was far too scary and dangerous for him. Forzen, wanting to escape Black Mesa and the military altogether, ends up making a deal with him that he'll handle all the dangerous stuff if Darnold can show him a way out.

Now, meeting Darnold is a very new experience for him, since Darnold actually enjoys his company, and actually wants to befriend him! At first, Forzen openly tries to act as if Darnold is a huge deal to put up with- he goes along with with the whole "if you're escaping outta this hellhole with me, you better keep up" kinda deal (despite the fact that he kinda NEEDS Darnold to escape and show him the way out). His walls are still very much so raised, and he doesn't let his guard down as he's not used to others caring about him and his safety. But as time passes, he begins to realize that maybe Darnold DOES want to be his friend, and the tough guy act becomes less apparent.

To preface this next one- Sunkist sensed that something was up (he has a next-level sense of danger when it comes to Tommy's safety) and got to BM as fast as he could, searching every hallway for his boy. This is when Forzen finds him!! He figures that taking Sunkist as a hostage would be enough to get extra info out of the team that's been practically plaguing him lately.

Darnold doesn't know about Forzen's plans to take Sunkist hostage, so is completely fine with traveling alongside him. At one point though, Forzen and Darnold get separated (Forzen occupies him, makes sure hes safe and then runs off to deal with Sunkist). Darnold immediately uses his surroundings to model a quick little teleporter device to get Forzen back, because, you know, the man's a genius. Idc if its logical or not just go with it shhh I've gotta fill in the plotholes with something. That's why Forzen disappears all of a sudden after he's cornered by the science team. He just pops back in front of Darnold suddenly, all confused and loopy from the whole teleportation thing.

As things begin to wind down, Darnold and Forzen make it out of BM and start making a break for it, no idea how they'll get away from BM and to safety somewhere- they didnt really think things through.

Fortunately (or unfortunately for Forzen really), however, G-man picks both of them up. He means to drop Darnold off at Tommy's party, as he observed that Darnold helped his son to safety and is grateful for it. Forzen, though, he intends to "deal with" for messing things up so badly with Tommy, Sunkist, and all of Tommy's friends. This is where Darnold finds out about everything Forzen did and frankly gets really pissed with him since he thought he only had good intentions??? Luckily though, Darnold convinces G-man to give him a second chance, let him go to Tommy's party and apologize, and try things again. G-man, for some reasons agrees- probably bc hes in a good mood, as it IS his son's birthday.

The party is pretty uncomfortable to say the least. Tommy's extremely hesitant to talk to Forzen, but he does, and they end up on neutral terms by the end of it. Uneasy, but neutral. Tommy and Darnold hit it off though, and Tommy opens the invitation to Darnold that he can visit his place anytime now that everything at BM is over with.

As everyone's getting ready to leave, Forzen mentions to Darnold that he doesn't have a place to stay, seeing as the entire military was kinda. Yknow. Wiped out. Obviously wouldn't wanna go back to check anyways. And he has no interest in going home to his parents. So Darnold agrees to let him stay with him since they've become good pals over the course of everything.

Over time, Darnold visits Tommy more and more often. He starts bringing Forzen along, which Tommy is iffy of at first, but their dynamic starts to change and become more comfortable once Tommy sees that Forzen isnt interested in being enemies anymore.

Sunkist and Forzen still don't get along for a very long time. Or, well- it's moreso that Sunkist is very wary about Forzen, despite him not doing anything to harm either Sunkist or Tommy.

Oh yeah and almost forgot to mention one of my favorite hcs (that I PROMISE you started out as a joke but then I got attached) is Sunkist can talk!! So his first spoken interaction with Forzen after Forzen comes over to visit for the first time is literally just him being all threatening and laying down the ground rules bc he doesn't want Forzen to hurt Tommy at all in any way. And of course Forzen about has a heart attack bc "HUH??????? THERE'S A DOG THAT IS SPEAKING HUMAN WORDS TO ME"

UHH I HAVE MORE (I've written out so much shit about dynamics and what I'd think would happen even after all of this) BUT I DON'T WANT THIS TO BE TOO LONG like it already is SO I SUPPOSE I'LL LEAVE IT AT THAT FOR NOW!!!! I hope this isn't too ooc either, I just have Emotions about this series and write too much so why not share it yknow

[scavengerfive]

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

[lavndrrhaze]

mun tags.

[hollybluu-blog]

#all good friendships with lapis start with threats from her

     holly and lapis are either gonna become best friends or fucking murder each other with their bare hands 

[sudowoodo-writes]

Question 8, 9 and 42 :) It's not in the game, but which universe are they in? I love learning about people's ocs ^^

Thank you for asking!! I got ahead of myself and forgot I don’t mention my WIP much. They are the OCS from my YA novel, just regular secondary school students in Ireland! (They were originally a Harry Potter OC and a very OOC Sirius Black though! A long time ago!)

8. Do they have anything that triggers them?

Holly has social anxiety, so that gets triggered a lot just by talking to people she doesn’t know well at school. She feels a lot of pressure at school as well, so not being perfectly prepared for exams and things like that have her on the edge of panic. She also gets super uncomfortable when teenagers talk about sexuality, because she’s ace and she’s not in a good place about it! Not sure I’d call that a trigger though!

Sandy is a pretty chill guy, the bastard. I’d say he gets a bit triggered at big social events, though, as he’s very introverted and people often try to come talk to him because he’s good-looking and (supposedly) popular. But really he’d rather stand in a corner talking to his two (2) friends.

9. What is their greatest physical weakness?

Neither are really sporty at all lol. Holly just wouldn’t go near anything strenuous. Sandy especially is terribly lazy and prone to lying down.

42. Are they comfortable with where they are in life?

Sandy IS (in his own mind, at least). He has a decent outlook on life, and in theory is in a good place. I realised today that life will get a lot harder for him after school. He has it quite easy now.

Holly is having a terrible time at the start of the book. She’s in a brand new class, deeply spiralling with her anxieties, no friends, and just coming out of a two year year relationship which ended after she was outed as ace… so it’s a bad time, tbh. But over the course of the story she becomes more comfortable and figures it’s all gonna be ok. Good ol’ coming of age stories ;)

[emjenenla]

What You Don’t Know... [A White Cat Fanfiction]

Title: What You Don’t Know…

Author: Emjen Enla (Fanfiction)/emjen_enla (Wattpad)/emjenenla (Tumblr)

Teaser: …will probably come back and get you at some point. Or an AU where Philip and Barron are trying to protect Cassel not use him, because that’s all I wanted from this book. Written without reading Red Glove and Black Heart.

Rating: PG-13/T

Canon/Timeline: AU, probably set earlier than White Cat is in mainstream canon

Dominant Characters: Philip Sharpe, Barron Sharpe, Cassel Sharpe, Anton Zacharov, mentions of various other characters

Pairings: Philip/Maura, perhaps VERY subtle undertones of Cassel/Lila if you squint

Warnings: some violence; pretty much everyone is intentionally OOC because this AU wouldn’t work if they were all in character

Notes:

-Two questions: 1. Does anyone remember what the name of Philip and Maura’s son is? 2. What kind of worker is Anton?

Disclaimer: I don’t own White Cat by Holly Black or Advil.

--

“Excuse me,” the teenage boy said to the guard. “Is this the way to the bathroom?”

Philip Sharpe peaked around a corner to get a better look. His younger brother, Cassel, stood before the guard, his posture rumpled and anxious, his gloved hands picking at his sleeves. He was almost unrecognizable, and Philip couldn’t help but be impressed. Since Cassel wasn’t a worker, it was too easy to write him off as useless, but Cassel was one of the best con-artists Philip had ever met. It was almost terrifying.

“How did you get back here, kid?” the guard asked. “This is a restricted area.”

“He’s going to blow it,” Anton Zacharov grumbled from behind Philip. “We should have had Barron do this part. He’s the luck worker.”

“Cassel can do it just fine,” Barron spoke up from the back of the group.

“I’m looking for the bathroom,” Cassel was saying to the guard. There was a touch of a childish whine in his voice that didn’t sound anything like Philip’s brother. The kid was an amazing actor. “My stomach doesn’t feel good. I must have eaten something bad.” He wrapped his arms around his middle and hunched over, looking decidedly pathetic.

“Oh,” the guard said eyes darting around nervously. He cared more about not having to clean up vomit than the rules, just as Cassel had said he would. There was a reason they’d picked this particular guard. “Well, there’s a men’s room this way. Come on.” His arms twitched like he was considering put a hand on Cassel’s back to guide him and then stopped for fear that Cassel had the stomach flu or something.

The guard lead Cassel down the hall. Philip watched as they stepped into one of the poorly designed hall’s many security camera blind spots. The instant they were out of sight of the cameras, Cassel straightened up and lunged at the guard, slamming him into the door of a janitor’s closet and holding him in place with a forearm across the throat.

Philip was moving instantly. He darted down the hall, sticking to the blind spots and reached Cassel and the guard. The guard’s eyes got big when he saw Philip’s fake guard uniform. Philip grinned at him in a very specific, creepy “worker-ish” way he’d learned from Mom and pressed an index finger against the guard’s cheek. He felt skin through the slit he’d cut in the fingertips of his gloves and sent a pulse through the man’s nervous system that overloaded it and dropped him into instant unconsciousness.

Cassel stepped back and let the guard drop to the floor. “How long will he be out?” he asked.

“Two hours, maybe three,” Philip knelt down next to the guard and began removing his security clearance card, ID and keys from the various loops and pockets of the uniform. “Depends on a number of factors: age, health, family history. Plus, some people are just more resilient than others.”

Cassel shook his head. “Just asked for a number, Philip; didn’t need the lesson.”

Philip couldn’t keep from smiling. “Whatever.”

He and Cassel quickly tied the man up and stuffed him into the janitor’s closet. They made their way back to Anton and Barron by way of the blind spots. Then Cassel stripped off the hoodie and sweatpants he’d been wearing to reveal the guard’s uniform underneath. They stuffed his old clothes into the small backpack Barron was carrying. Now all three Sharpe brothers were in guard uniforms. Anton was in a suit.

“You actually didn’t mess that up,” Anton said, condescending. “Amazing.”

Cassel’s face turned red and he opened his mouth to retort, but Barron broke in, “We should get moving. We are on a schedule here.”

“Yes,” Philip agreed. “We don’t have time for this squabbling.”

“You’re not in charge here, Sharpe,” Anton growled, and Philip was once again left wondering why he’d bothered putting up with Anton all these years. His life would have considerably less condescension if he’d simply found a way to separate himself from Anton when they’d been ten.

“We should get moving,” Anton went on like Philip and Barron hadn’t just suggested that. “Turner won’t be here all night.”

Abraham Turner was a physicality worker who had recently tried to get out of his contract with the Zacharovs by appealing to the government for a full pardon in return for all the information he had on the Zacharovs. Tonight, was the night that Turner was supposed to meet with several members of the Licensed Minority Division to hand over the information. Obviously, that meeting couldn’t be allowed to happen so Philip, Barron, Cassel and Anton had been sent to make sure Turner wouldn’t be talking to anyone.

Cassel normally wouldn’t be helping on a job like this. Because he wasn’t a worker he couldn’t be a part of Zacharov’s gang in all real capacity, but Philip and Barron sometimes let him help on smaller jobs. The trick had always been keeping Zacharov’s daughter, Lila, from finding out, especially as it became increasingly difficult to convince Cassel not to tell her about it.

Still, Cassel was here tonight with Zacharov’s blessing. Because Turner had been a longtime member of the gang, he knew the faces of just about any agent who could be sent after him. That was where Cassel came in handy. Since Cassel wasn’t a worker and not a member, no one besides Anton, Lila, Zacharov and a few others had ever seen him. Most people weren’t even aware that Mom had three sons. Cassel’s face was unknown to Turner, but he was still close enough to the Zacharov family that his loyalty was ensured. He was the perfect person to lead Turner into the trap Anton was setting for him.

They walked quickly but not too quickly through the halls of the convention center. The LMD had set Turner up with a ticket to the evening gala being held here tonight. The Sharpe brothers and Anton didn’t have tickets at all, but the guard’s ID and security cards quickly got them through locked doors and into the part of the building where the gala was being held. They marched through the halls until they reached a small conference room without any observation windows that they’d picked as the perfect place for the job.

“Get on your part of the mission,” Anton told Cassel. “And if you mess up; I’ll have your hide.”

Cassel rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry,” he said. “It’ll be fine.”

He walked away leaving Anton visibly fuming at the implication that he was worried. Barron snorted, and Anton whirled on him. “What are you laughing at?”

Barron held up his hands. “Nothing. Just clearing my throat.”

Anton looked like he wanted to strange Barron, but Philip stepped in. “Let’s get inside before someone starts wondering why we’re just standing out here,” he suggested.

Anton nodded sharply and pushed his way into the conference room. Philip and Barron followed. The room was had boring beige walls decorated with pristine whiteboards on three walls. A potted plant that came up to Philip’s shoulders stood next to the door and a modern table filled the room surrounded by chairs. Anton strode across the room and settled himself into the chair at the head of the table. He arranged himself in the chair in a way so much like a villain in a movie that it was somewhere between funny and pathetic. “Barron, stand in that corner,” he motioned to his left. “Philip, over there,” another gesture to the right corner.

It was infuriating to be bossed around by Anton like Philip and Barron were just hired muscle with no brains of their own, but there wasn’t a whole lot that could be done about it. Philip took his place in the corner and glanced across the room at Barron who rolled his eyes with a small smile on his face, all in all looking considerably more good-natured about the whole situation.

They waited for almost ten minutes for Cassel to return with Turner. Anton drummed his fingers on the tabletop, Philip fought to keep his foot from tapping. “That kid’s going to blow it,” Anton announced.

“He’ll be fine,” Barron soothed. “Just give him a few more minutes before you start panicking.”

Before Anton could get angry the doorknob rattled and they had half a second to pull themselves together before the door opened and Cassel ushered Turner inside.

Turner took two steps into the room before he caught sight of Anton. He jumped and turned towards the door to escape, but Cassel had already entered the room and closed the door. He stood against it with his hand on the handle, staring impassively at Turner.

“You-” Turner spat. “You-You-” he didn’t have time to come up with something to something to say because Anton cleared his throat.

“Well, Turner, it appears this is the end of the line,” Anton said. “You really should have realized the LMD couldn’t protect you from us.”

“I’m-” Turner stammered, Philip could see him struggling to find an out. “This is all for a job. I’m going to infiltrate the LMD and-”

Anton held up a hand. “Please,” he said. “Save your breath. No one’s going to believe that.”

Turner began to say something, but Anton spoke over him, “I really don’t feel like drawing this out. Abraham Turner, you’re found guilty of treason to the Zacharov family, your execution will happen immediately. Philip.”

Philip took a quiet breath and stepped forward. Turner’s eyes went wide. He tried to back away, but almost instantly Barron and Cassel where on either side of him holding his arms, careful not to touch any skin. Turner writhed trying to escape, but they held his fast as Philip crossed the room. He moved slowly; part of the punishment was in the waiting.

“Please…” Turner begged, a quiet, pathetic whimper from a man who had once been a worker for Zacharov.

Philip didn’t even bother responding. He wrapped his fingers around Turner’s neck, pressing down until their skin came into contact through the slits of his gloves. He didn’t wait to act; Turner could work Philip right now too, skin on skin contact didn’t only run one way. Philip reached out with his power; it only took a second to overload and burn out Turner’s nervous system until it couldn’t possibly recover. Turner slumped in Barron and Cassel’s arms. Dead.

Philip took a step backward, and Barron and Cassel let Turner’s body collapse to the floor. Anton rose to his feet and crossed the room. The four of them stood over Turner’s body looking down. “Are you sure he’s dead?” Anton asked.

“No one can survive their entire nervous system getting burnt out,” Philip said.

“Then we should get out of here,” Anton said heading towards the door. “We’ll leave the body here to send a message to the-” He trailed off because he’d opened the door and an unfamiliar man in a suit was standing outside.

Anton’s mouth dropped open. He started to step back and began raising his hands, but the newcomer produced a nightstick and swung before Anton had a chance to defend himself. He dropped like a stone, either unconscious or close enough.

The suited man nudged Anton’s body with his foot and looked up. “Well, I assume this is Anton Zacharov,” he said. “And you two are Philip and Barron Sharpe,” he eyes focused on Cassel. “But who are you?”

Cassel didn’t respond, he just lunged at the man fists clenched. His attack got nowhere, because the suited man was much bigger than he was. Within seconds the man had Cassel in a headlock.

“Alright, enough of that,” the man said. “This will go so much more smoothly if you all just hand yourselves in.”

“You’re the LMD agent Turner was supposed to meet,” Philip said.

“Correct,” the agent said. “I’ve been keeping an eye on him since he arrived, and I couldn’t just let someone walk off with him without following.”

“Sorry,” Cassel croaked. The bare skin of the agent’s wrist was digging into Cassel’s bare throat and cutting off his air supply.

“It’s a pity you already managed to finish him off,” the agent continued, ignoring Cassel. “He had information that would be valuable to the LMD.”

“People don’t betray the Zacharov family and get away with it,” Philip replied. His eyes kept darting to the doorway behind the agent. That was the only way out of the conference room. They had to get past him.

The agent must have noticed his frantic planning because he smiled. “There’s no way out. The four of you will pay for your c-” his voice broke out into a panicked shriek.

Philip followed the man’s gaze and gasped. Where the agent’s bare skin had been touching Cassel, his wrist had turned into melted wax. Cassel pulled away and darted towards Philip and Barron. The agent dropped to the ground screaming and cradling the melty stump of his left arm.

There was only one type of worker who could what had just happened, but transformation workers were so rare they practically didn’t exist. Besides, Cassel wasn’t a worker at all, how had he…

Cassel looked up at Philip, a look a petrified shock on his face. He looked almost as scared as the agent did. Philip and Cassel stared at each other for one moment that lasted an eternity then Cassel’s face contorted and he dropped to the ground with a shriek, fingers digging to his scalp.

“Cassel?” Philip dropped down next to him. “Cassel, what’s wrong?”

Barron knelt as well, “Must be the blowback.”

“Are you sure?” Philip looked at him.

“Do I look like an expert on transformation workers to you?” Barron snapped.

They both looked back to the writhing form of their baby brother on the ground. A transformation worker. Philip tried to wrap his mind around the knowledge. Cassel couldn’t be a transformation worker. He was too old to develop powers. They would have known. Philip felt a little like he was going to pass out.

Cassel twisted on the ground and let out a horrible, animal-sounding moan. Barron jabbed Philip with his elbow. “Philip, do something.”

Philip shook himself and touched Cassel’s neck, feeling his brother’s skin through the slits in his gloves. He pulsed Cassel’s nervous system the same way he had to the guard he’d taken down in the hall and his little brother went still.

Philip sat back on his heels, ignoring the needle-like pains that were starting to the shoot through his bones—the beginning of his own blowback. It wasn’t bad now—sort of like growing pains, maybe—but he knew it would get worse, especially if he had to do more working today. “We need to get out of here,” he said.

“My thoughts exactly,” Barron said. “I’ll carry Cassel, you take this.” He took off the backpack and handed it over. “We might need you to have your hands free to work someone else.”

Philip pulled the backpack on and stood up. Barron maneuvered Cassel over his shoulders and stood as well. “Let’s move,” he said.

They stepped of the agent’s moaning body and out into the hallway. There were footsteps coming towards them. Philip turned his head to see a squad of security guards heading towards them. “What happened?” the lead guard asked. “We heard screaming.”

Philip took a steadying breath and sized the men up. There were a lot of them, but they didn’t appear armed with anything but nightsticks and tasers. No lethal weapons, which put them at a distinct disadvantage to Philip who had carried a lethal weapon inside of himself since the day he was born.

“A couple meetings didn’t go as planned,” he said in a careful voice. He probably didn’t sound as calm as Cassel could have in this situation, but it would have to be enough. As he spoke, he slowly, carefully peeled off his gloves; he’d need more than a couple slits of bare skin for this. “I think it’s mostly taken care of now.”

“We heard screaming,” the lead guard said. “Is someone hurt?”

“Nothing life threatening,” Philip finished pulling off the gloves and moved to put them in his pants pocket. “You don’t need to worry.”

The sudden bending of Philip’s arm caught the guard’s attention. He looked down to see Philip’s bare hands and his eyes widened. He looked back up. “Please put the gloves back on, sir,” he said shakily. “There’s other ways to solve this.” The rest of the guards began drawing their tasers and nightsticks.

Philip glanced at Barron who was standing just off his right shoulder. “Stay right behind me,” he ordered in an undertone. “Don’t fall behind.”

Barron nodded.

“Put the gloves back on and get on your knees!” the lead guard ordered leveling his taser at them.

Philip gave his best “I’m an evil worker” grin and charged across the space between him and the guards. He brushed his fingers along the lead guard’s neck and dropped him with a surge of bone melting pain. Two more guards were behind, and Philip took them down as well. He plowed through their midst, hands outstretched, fingers reaching for skin. He didn’t try to kill; that would take too much focus. He just needed to slow them down.

He burst through the guards with Barron hot on his heels. They pounded down the hall and skidded around a corner. They retraced their steps to the quieter parts of the building with the poorly placed security cameras. Once there they tried to stay to the blind spots as much as possible. Philip wasn’t sure how long they had before even more security was sent after them. They needed to vanish before that could happen.

They skidded around a corner into a long hallway. Philip clung to the wall under the security cameras until they were halfway down the hall. Then he slid to a stop and bent down next to a specific floor tile. The tiles were a little wider than Philip’s shoulders and this one had a little ridge in it to make it easier to lift. It still took Philip several precious seconds to pry it up because his hands were shaking with a mixture of fear and adrenalin. He finally got it up to reveal and access hatch underneath. This hatch swung downwards to reveal a dimly lit passage; one of the building’s many maintenance hallways.

“You first,” he told Barron.

Barron nodded and set Cassel on the floor. He climbed partway down the ladder attached to the hatch, then grabbed Cassel again and dragged him down as well.

Philip looked back. He could hear sounds of pursuit now. They only had seconds to finish vanishing. He scrambled partway down the ladder and dragged the tile back over the hole, blocking out the light from above and leaving only the dull orange light of the maintenance hallway. He closed the hatch and dropped down the rest of the way to the floor.

The maintenance hallway stretched on in either direction. This was the way they’d gotten into the building. “Let’s move,” Philip panted to Barron.

Barron nodded and took off down the hall. Philip moved to follow, but he only got two steps before the blowback that had been threatening since he’d knocked out Cassel hit with full force. Philip’s bones turned to fire, his muscled went limp. He sagged against the wall gasping in airless breaths through clenched teeth. You don’t have time for this! Get up!

“Philip?” he heard Barron’s voice as if from very far away. “Philip, we need to go.”

“Go ahead without me,” Philip said around a thick tongue and numb lips. “I’ll catch up.”

“No way,” a hand grabbed his elbow and dragged him upright. “Come on, Phil. You can do it. Let’s go.”

Philip didn’t remember much of the rest of the escape, only that Barron’s white-knuckle grip on his arm was the only thing keeping him upright and moving. He didn’t remember transferring from the maintained hallways to the sewer system. He didn’t remember trekking through the sewer for blocks and then climbing out into the parking garage where the car they’d driven here was parked. He didn’t come back to himself until Barron practically poured him into the passenger seat of the car.

Philip leaned against the seat painting from pain and the nausea that came with it. He heard other doors opening and closing as Barron dumped Cassel’s limp body onto the back seat and got behind the wheel.

“Pull your feet in and close your door,” Barron ordered as the car hummed to life. “We need to get out of here.”

Philip hadn’t even realized that his legs were still hanging out of the car. He pulled them in and managed to close the door even though his arms felt like overheated lead. Something was digging into his back and he realized that it was the backpack. He worked the straps off and let it fall to the floor by his feet. He squinted blurrily up at his brother as Barron leaned over and began undoing the buttons on Philip’s guard uniform shirt. “Don’t want to draw attention to us,” Philip muttered. “We don’t want them to make the connection between this car and us.”

“I know,” Barron said. He worked Philip’s arms out of the shirt and tossed it onto the floor in the back. Philip was wearing a normal tee-shirt under it for precisely this eventuality. He realized that Barron had already removed his shirt and a quick glance back confirmed that he’d done the same for Cassel.

Barron buckled Philip in and patted his shoulder. “We’ll be fine, Phil.”

Philip didn’t quite believe him. After all, they had just attacked a member of the LMD and a bunch of security guards. Plus, Anton…

Philip’s aching, struggling heart nearly stopped when he realized what they’d overlooked. The mistake they’d made that would make any trouble they’d have from the police look like a picnic. A mistake that might spell their bloody, painful deaths.

“Barron,” he breathed. “We left Anton.”

~~~~

The highway stretched on before them. Barron tried to keep his hands steady on the wheel and his mind focused. There were not words to describe how badly this job had gone, and that was even without thinking about Cassel…

Philip shifted in the passenger seat. “Barron,” he grunted. “Pull over. I’m going to be sick.”

Barron glanced over. Philip had the back of one hand pressed to his mouth. He’d actually managed to turn green, which Barron hadn’t known was possible. “One second,” Barron pulled over on the side of the highway probably a bit more dangerously than he should have and slammed on the brakes.

Philip swung the passenger door open and leaned out, puking into the gravel. Barron winced and looked away trying to give his brother some privacy. Philip’s blowbacks normally made him nauseous, so it wasn’t like Barron wasn’t used to waiting for his older brother to get ahold of the contents of his stomach, but it was still awkward.

Philip continued emptying his stomach for what seemed like forever. Finally, he wiped his mouth on the back of a hand and leaned back into his seat with an audible moan. His face was completely bloodless and soaked with sweat that plastered his hair to his forehead. The hand that he brought up to pinch the bridge of his nose was shaking, his other arm was wrapped tightly around his stomach.

“Phil?” Barron ventured.

“I feel horrible,” Philip said, his voice rough and acidy from vomiting. “This might be the worst blowback I’ve ever had.”

Barron’s stomach sank. Philip’s blowbacks gave him the symptoms of a bad flu mixed with chronic pain and could last anywhere from a couple hours to days. While Barron knew he shouldn’t exactly be surprised that this blowback was bad—he had never seen a physicality worker work their way through as many people at once as Philip had with those guards—they were going to have to deal with the fallout of all this, and it was looking like Barron would be the only one capable of doing so.

Barron dug around on the floor of the backseat and found a half empty water bottle. “Here,” he said offering it to Philip. “Rinse out your mouth.”

He waited while Philip swished the water around in his mouth and spat it onto the gravel outside. When he pulled back into the car and closed the door, Barron asked, “Are you okay to keep going?”

Philip sunk lower in his seat and his eyes closed. “Yeah,” he said hoarsely.

“Okay,” Barron turned off the hazards and put the car back into drive. “If you need to throw up again let me know.”

He drove for twenty or thirty minutes before he saw signs for a rest stop. He turned onto the ramp and slowed down. Philip—who Barron had hoped had dozed off—shifted and opened his eyes, squinting at the gas pumps and convenience store. “Why are we stopping?” he asked.

“We need some supplies,” Barron said. “We’ll get some Z-Up for your stomach and some Advil.”

Philip smiled vaguely. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “That sounds good.”

Barron pulled up into a parking spot a little way from everyone else and turned off the car. “I’ll go in,” he said. “You can wait here.”

“No, I’ll come in,” Philip said swallowing heavily. “I need to use the bathroom. Besides we need to decide what to do about-” he jerked his head at Cassel’s still, unconscious form in the backseat.

Barron looked back at his little brother. “How long is he going to be out?” he asked.

“Maybe another hour or so,” Philip said. “We’ll need to have a plan of action when he wakes up.”

Barron nodded. “I suppose you’re right.”

Before they left the car, they had to change pants and shoes because they couldn’t just walk into a convenience store in the pants and shoes of a security guard when their descriptions were probably going to be all over the news in the next couple hours. After changing into jeans and tennis shoes they got out of the car and headed into the convenience store. Barron gathered up Z-Up, Gatorade, granola bars, sandwiches, water and Advil while Philip used the bathroom. Barron had just finished paying (in cash, obviously) when Philip staggered back paler and shakier than before.

“You okay, bro?” Barron asked, and Philip gave him a look that told him to drop it.

They stepped outside and commandeered a picnic table within sight of the car. Barron sat on the tabletop facing the car with his boots on the table’s bench seat. Philip also faced the car, only he sat on the seat and draped his upper body across the tabletop.

They sat in silence for several minutes then Philip spoke, his voice muffled by the cocoon of his arms, “So, Cassel’s a transformation worker.”

“Yeah,” Barron said tightly.

“I didn’t know that,” Philip said. “He must have used his powers before now; why don’t I remember it?” He lifted his head and gave Barron a look that didn’t make sense for a couple seconds before he made the connection.

“Oh,” he said. “I didn’t work you.”

Officially, Barron was a luck worker; only Philip, Grandad and Mom knew that he was actually a memory worker. If Barron had told the Zacharovs he could have gotten more work than just being the insurance to Philip’s jobs, but the blowback made that a bad idea. Every time Barron used his powers he was trading away some of his own memories. If he wasn’t careful, he would work himself into premature Alzheimer’s.

“Are you sure you didn’t and then forgot?” Philip asked.

“Yes,” Barron said. “That’s something I would have written down in my journals.”

Philip accepted that with a nod. “Still,” he said. “He’s seventeen. This can’t be the first time he’s displayed powers. It would have started when he was younger, which means…”

“Someone did work us to make us forgot,” Barron finished. “All three of us.”

“You’re sure he didn’t know?” Philip asked.

“You saw his face,” Barron replied. “He didn’t have a clue.”

There was a long pause. “Do you think the Zacharovs knew?” Barron asked, cursing the unsteadiness in his tone.

“No,” Philip said. “If they knew Cassel’s a worker this powerful, we’d never have had to work so hard to convince Anton he wasn’t a deadweight. Mom and Grandad on the other hand…”

Barron’s stomach clenched. “They can’t know. They would have told us.”

“They must know,” Philip used his elbows to lever his body into a mostly upright position. “Someone decided we’d be best off not knowing and had us worked; probably multiple times. They’re the only options; they’re the only ones close enough to us.”

“But why?” Barron asked.

“I don’t know,” Philip said, then looked up at Barron, face serious. “But until we understand it, we can’t trust them.”

“We can’t go home either,” Barron said. “Even if we could trust Mom and Grandad either the LMD or the Zacharovs are going to be after us. We’re going to need to go under the radar. Especially if we’re going to protect Cassel,” he paused and realized the assumption he’d made. “We are going to protect Cassel, right?”

“Of course, we are,” Philip said in a tone of voice that suggested that he couldn’t believe Barron had asked. “He’s our baby brother, just because he’s suddenly one of the rarest workers in the world doesn’t change anything.”

“Good,” Barron heaved a sigh of relief. “Then we probably should get moving. We need to put as much distance between us and that conference center as possible before the police have time to really mobilize against us. Even more once Anton inevitably gets bailed out of prison.”

“Yeah,” Philip agreed and began to try to heave himself to his feet. “Might be a good idea to make sure Cassel doesn’t have the option to run before hearing us out when he wakes up too.”

Barron ended up needing to help Philip to the car, but they were still back on the highway within minutes. Philip shifted in the seat then leaned forward to rummage through the pockets of the backpack. “What are you looking for?” Barron asked.

“We have a burner phone in here, don’t we?”

“Yes,” Barron said. “Why do you need it?”

“I’m going to call Maura and tell her to get out,” he said. “The house is under her name, so someone’s bound to show up there eventually.”

“Should we call Grandad?” Barron asked.

“You can if you want,” Philip said. “I’m not.”

Barron knew he wouldn’t either. If they involved Grandad in this, it would be too difficult to keep their new knowledge about Cassel secret. “I’m not calling him either,” Barron said.

Philip straightened up and nodded in something that was either approval or simple acknowledgment. He was holding one of the cheap, prepaid burner flip phones they’d bought for the job. Barron watched out of the corner of his eye as Philip dialed Maura’s number from memory and raised the phone to his ear.

“Maura?” he asked after a minute. “Are you alone?”

There was a pause as Maura answered, then Philip went on, “The job went bad. Catastrophically bad. You need to leave. Chances are either the police or the Zacharovs will be showing up at the house in the next couple hours and I don’t think it’s a good idea if you’re there when that happens.”

Another pause. “I’m fine, just a bad blowback. Barron and Cassel are fine too, but we let Anton get arrested which is why the Zacharovs might be after us soon.”

Pause. “I don’t think Zacharov will have much trouble there,” Philip answered. “Regardless of what the politicians say about cracking down on the crime families, there isn’t a prison in the country that will hold Anton Zacharov for more than a couple days. So, it’s not like this is much of a setback for Zacharov; it’s more that we left Anton to get arrested in favor of saving our nonworker little brother.”

Maura responded, then Philip said, “That’s why you need to get all the essentials into the car and get out of the state. Remember to change the plates before you leave and whatever you do don’t tell Grandad or Mom that you’re leaving.”

Philip listened to Maura’s question, then said, “I can’t explain over the phone. I’ll tell you when we meet in person. Speaking of which, there’s a burner phone in my sock drawer; take it with you, and I’ll call you on it in a couple days so we can find a place to meet.”

Maura spoke some more. “We’re all fine,” Philip said. “No sign of pursuit thus far, but we aren’t going to take any chances. I’ll talk to you in a couple days?” A pause. “I love you too. Stay safe. Goodbye.”

Philip hung up and leaned back in the seat. Barron looked over at his brother’s pale, sweaty face, lax mouth and drooping eyes. “There’s Z-Up and Advil,” he said. “Then you should try to sleep.”

“Yeah,” Philip agreed tiredly. “That’s probably a good idea.”

~~~~

They drove and drove and drove. Barron kept his hands clenched tightly on the steering wheel, his eyes glued on the road, ears tuned to the radio which was playing news, listening for every mention of the incident. So far, their names and descriptions had not been released, but it was only a matter of time. Barron considered where they could go that would be safe and what they would need to do to foil the police descriptions of them. They couldn’t go anywhere Mom and Grandad knew about or anywhere Zacharov, Anton or even Lila knew about. It had to be somewhere entirely knew, and Barron was grasping at straws.

In the passenger seat, Philip slipped in and out of fitful sleep. He shifted restlessly and grunted whenever he was jarred by a bump in the road. Barron wanted desperately to get them a hotel room so Philip could rest in an actual bed, but doing that would be like asking to be found and arrested. Since they’d abandoned Anton, Zacharov wouldn’t bail them out and the Sharpe family didn’t have the money or connections. They needed to stay free or everything was over.

The sun was beginning to rise when Cassel finally stirred in the backseat. Barron’s stomach twisted into knots as he listened to his little brother work his way back to consciousness.

“Wha’ happen’?” Cassel muttered thickly. “Wh’ ‘re we…” Barron gritted his teeth and waited for the explosion.

He didn’t have to wait long. Cassel jerked upright in the backseat. “Wait! I-I-” He sat up straight and Barron saw his angry glare in the rearview mirror. “You lied to me!”

“Cassel?” Philip shifted awake and turned to look at their little brother. “Good, you’re awake.”

“You’re a liar!” Cassel snarled. “You’re both liars! You told me I didn’t have any powers, but I do! What happened to that agent; I did that!”

“We didn’t lie to you,” Philip said, his voice steady but with an undercurrent of strain, either from stress or from the blowback. “We didn’t know. We thought you weren’t a worker too. We would never keep something like that from you.”

“I don’t believe you,” Cassel snapped.

“I’m not lying,” Philip said. “I didn’t know you were a worker. I swear it on my life.”

“I swear it too,” Barron said. “We’re on your side, Cassel.”

“If you two didn’t know anything,” Cassel said. “Why is this the first time it’s ever happened? That’s not how working works.”

“We might have all been worked by a memory worker,” Barron said. A quick glance at Philip confirmed that they were going to keep Barron’s true identity as a memory worker quiet for the time being. “Someone must have decided that we were better off not knowing you were a worker.”

There was a pause while Cassel thought that over. “Mom and Grandad,” he said.

The kid was even quicker to that assumption than they had been, Barron wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or worried. “We’re not sure,” he said. “But it’s a definite possibility.”

He watched in the rearview mirror as Cassel thought it all over. “I’ll trust you two for now,” Cassel finally said, “but if I discover even one little thing that could imply you’re lying to me, well…” he lifted a hand and his eyes narrowed. “I’m know that I’m not defenseless now.”

“A logical strategy,” Philip agreed.

They lapsed back into silence, the radio droning commercials in the background, until Cassel spoke again, “Where are we?”

“On the fast track to the middle of nowhere,” Barron said. “Things only went farther south after Philip knocked you out. We ended up attacking a number of security guards and then running to evade arrest. We’re kind of hot news right now, and we’ll need to go underground until this all blows over.”

“Okay…” Cassel said slowly, thinking it over. “Where’s Anton?”

“Arrested,” Philip said. “We…may have panicked and forgotten about him.”

Cassel snorted. “Bet he’s happy about that.”

“It’s going to be a real problem,” Philip said. “He won’t be happy when he gets out, and the whole Zacharov family will be after us.” He finished by shifting in his seat and moaning out loud.

Barron freed one hand from the steering wheel and patted Philip’s shoulder. “You’ve got about forty-five minutes before you can take more Advil,” he said. “Just hang in there.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Cassel asked, sounding just a little scared.

“Blowback,” Philip grunted. “I’ll be fine.”

Cassel frowned, deep in thought. “We’re in deep trouble,” he said, then his voice became quiet and a little scared. “What happens if the Zacharovs figure out I’m a worker? What happens if the people who worked our memories figure out we know?”

Barron and Philip looked at each other, each trying to come up with something soothing and reassuring to say. In truth, neither of them knew what would happen in either of those situations. “Nothing bad will happen to you,” Philip finally promised, perhaps a bit rashly.

“We’re your brothers,” Barron agreed anyway. “It’s our job to keep you safe.”

--

That’s probably not the best ending in the world, but I’m running on four hours of sleep, so you’ll have to forgive my lack of creative brain cells. I suppose this could be the start of a bigger story, but I’m nearly 100% positive I’m not going to continue, so I suggest you don’t hold your breath.

I’m almost done with part three of the Angsty Kaz FanfictionTM, so hopefully you’ll get that soon. I have a couple other ideas too, so we’ll see what happens. The one thing I will say is that I’m sort of in the process of shifting fandoms, so expect a lot of variety, but probably not a lot of Star Wars.

Anyway, if you’ve read this, thank you! I’m honestly not sure if anyone will see this.

Please favorite, follow and review!

Emjen

[sleepingdragonhq]

EVENT 003 - HALLOWEEN PRANK & QUIDDITCH AFTER PARTY 

Students are bustling with anticipation for more than one reason. With Halloween fast approaching and the first Quidditch match of the year just around the corner. Unfortunately, two certain witches have a few tricks up their sleeves. It’s a very big prank but they thought it was worth it. Everyone will be spending their favorite spooky holiday in... someone else’s body.

We all know how much those gossip witches love causing panic and they’re really stepping up their game this time and unfortunately, this is not their only trick. Keep an eye out for one of their lovely messages.

OOC

This is a two part event lasting two weeks. The body swap event will take place from November 1st at 12 noon GMT to the same time November 8th. The quidditch after party will begin as soon as the body swap ends, and we will announce the winner then, and the event will officially be over same time November 15th.

For this event, please track and tag all starters under #sdhqbodyswap for the body swap and #sdhqafterparty for the after party. Do not tag any event posts under #sdhqevent as this is for admin use only.

Please like this post once you’ve read it so that we know you’ve seen it !!

Under the cut, you can find who your character(s) have swapped bodies with. You will need to use gifs of that faceclaim for all interactions during the first part of the event.

Lucy Weasley (Camila Mendes) - Callum Segal (Ross Butler)

Evan Parkinson (Chirs Wood) - Lorcan Scamander (Dominic Sherwood)

Liam Kominek (Colin O’Donoghue) - Theodore Dubanowski (Hunter Parrish)

Gabriel Larkin (Aaron Tveit) - Alastair Watson (Jeremy Jordan)

James Sirius Potter (KJ Apa) - Nicolas Avery (Santiago Segura)

Benjamin Ollivander (Bob Morley) - Jace Greengrass (Steven R. McQueen)

Callista McGonagall (Jennifer Morrison) - Natalie Robertson (Sophia Bush)

Octavia Coleman (Caitlin Stasey) - Scorpius Malfoy (Austin Butler)

Mackenzie Finnigan-Thomas (Britt Robertson) - Natalie Davies (Freya Mavor)

Brigid Callaghan (Sofia Carson) - Laurel Ollivander (Hailee Steinfeld)

Brett Holland (Liana Liberato) - Luke Corner (Douglas Booth)

Lily Luna Potter (Sophie Turner) - Rosalind Vane (Madelaine Petsch)

Adabella Skeeter (Halston Sage) - Lysander Scamander (Dominic Sherwood)

Elias Hero (Matthew Daddario) - Aleksander Krum (Daniel Sharman)

Cassandra Hero (Marie Avgeropoulos) - Aurel Device (Tyler Hoechlin)

Skye Macdougal (Eliza Taylor) - Lalita Patil (Naomi Scott)

Bellamy McGonagall (Max Irons) - Alice Longbottom II (Maisie Williams)

Rylee Greengrass (Nina Dobrev) - Bastian Zabini (Keith Powers)

Holly Wood (Melissa Benoist) - Charlotte Watson (Troian Bellisario)

Dominique Weasley (Imogen Poots) - Julia Kominek (Phoebe Tonkin)

Augustine Reynard (Darren Criss) - Megan Pucey (Kacey Rohl)

Lyra Malfoy (Dove Cameron) - Rose Weasley (Kat McNamara)