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cannoli-reader · 8 months ago

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Long reply, under a cut

Yes, Egwene is as bad as Dark Rand. Did you notice that in WoT, HOW you oppose something matters? Going to war based on lies, hell, going to war in the first place, is not the solution.

First of all, lets address the issue of Elaida.

"Elaida wanted to capture/brainwash Rand? Do you think she would have handed the seals over?"

So? First of all, her thinking is not all that far out of line with the rest of the Aes Sedai. They wanted Rand in the Tower, under their guidance and protection. Remember, according to Verin, that was the motive many of the sisters, sworn to the Three Oaths and under Compulsion, gave for their participation in kidnapping Rand. Siuan only agreed to let him out of pocket because A. she's really arrogant and not as competent as she, her gaslighted pupils and her former or aspiring sexual partners believe and B. Moiraine assured her that everything was under control and this was the best way to control Rand. Egwene repeatedly believes that Rand is going down to disaster without her guidance, just because she was given a multi-colored stole. She provided absolutely no guidance to Rand from the moment he proclaimed himself and when she tried to influence him, had exactly zero luck unless it was something he already intended anyway (breaking up, dating Elayne and putting off the Tower embassy), and yet, as soon as she is made fake-Amyrlin by a fake Hall, she starts worrying about how can he succeed without her hand on his reins. Practically the first thing Siuan does when she makes contact with the rebel leadership is tell them where Rand is. These are the people she does not trust to lead the Tower, but they are perfectly competent to manage Rand and by extension, the apocalypse. It's an enormous blind spot the Tower inculcates in all its initiates.

Secondly, Elaida's desires don't translate into reality. Again, this is Egwene's White Tower blinkers. She assumes that if Elaida holds the Amyrlin Seat, what she wants will come to pass. How well did Salidar prevent Elaida from kidnapping Rand? Hell, their bog-standard Tower arrogance drove him into reach of the embassy. Frankly, Elaida had neither the means nor the ability to capture/brainwash Rand. The idea that Egwene's actions are necessary to prevent this is just as much of an overreach as Rand's determination to do everything himself instead of trusting anyone else. And handed the Seals over? No... but since Rand had them and she never did, so what?

"Pretty much anyone reading the books could infer that her leading the white tower would screw things up?"

Really? How much of her mindset and actions near the end (I am frankly not counting Sanderson's bizarre and OoC depiction except in the loosest sense - it is absolutely he clear his grasp on the Aes Sedai in general was no more than superficial) were her normal policies, and how much a reaction to the split and the unprecedentedly treasonous actions of the Salidar gang? No Amyrlin ever had to deal with what she did. There is no playbook, no map in the sacred Tower archives or secret histories to how this sort of thing should be handled. Nearly every major action of the rebels was a breathtaking violation of laws and traditions and appalling treachery that most readers ignore because of Protagonist Morality. By Tower Law and comparable political convention, capital punishment for every sister would not be off the table. Separating their actions from the underlying motive, the Confederate States of America were less treasonous toward the USA than the Salidar gang was to the White Tower. And there was no underlying justification. There was no moral principle, not even any policy or ideological dispute, it was purely factional, personal and partisan objections to a lawful change of leadership. It is universally acknowledged by all three sides, that Elaida's accession and Siuan's deposition was lawful. Notice that actually no one but the Wonder Girls specifically refers to her as a usurper? Because they can't. The Oath Rod won't let them. And Anaiya, who is cited by Egwene as one of the most vengeful of the rebel sisters in her mindset toward Elaida & the loyalists, called her the rightful Amyrlin when Siuan came to Salidar. Cadsuane also called her the rightful Amyrlin. Neither of them can say what they don't believe. Consider that you're not even allowed to be rude to the Amyrlin, that she can subject a Sitter to corporal punishment for being sarcastic or for visibly enjoying a rival's discomfiture, according to Egwene, treason and rebellion has to be unthinkable. Egwene flies into a rage because people who believe she is a puppet, who agreed to raise her with the understanding that she was to be a figurehead, don't fawn over her, even though her current plans require them to overlook her and dismiss her leadership potential. Even when everything is going perfectly according to her plans, she loses her temper in private at Romanda's lack of respect. Tell me, with that in mind, that Egwene or any Aes Sedai would have responded any better than Elaida to a third of the Tower deserting in the time of the greatest crisis in its history, and spreading lies to the general public!

And let's not forget that the main characters got their first hint of the split by intercepting a message to all sisters from Elaida, proclaiming a general amnesty. Remember, Elaida can't lie, and she offered a blanket amnesty for a series of actions that included sending warders to attempt to overthrow her lawful election with a military coup. This amnesty is repeated when she sends Tarna as an emissary directly to Salidar, well after they have committed treason by creating a false Hall of the Tower, and have begun at best airing the Tower's dirty laundry to outsiders, and, from the knowledge of Elaida & co, actually slandering Elaida and her Ajah to the general public. She is STILL offering an amnesty, months after they have retained a Great Captain to recruit an army.

Meanwhile, Robert Jordan repeatedly threw in little hints that Elaida was not so different from Siuan or Egwene. She dreamed of creating a fourth Oath for proven traitors to redeem themselves, but Egwene actually imposed the same oath through blackmail. Egwene takes her to task for the poor sanitation of Tar Valon, but Egwene herself destroys the harbors with her cuendillar chain, affecting the livelihood of thousands of residents. Meanwhile, we see that Elaida is trying to get the streets cleaned, but people are just not cooperating, and this is actually a city-wide malaise on the part of their citizens, not a failure of policy. Gee, it's almost like there is a Forsaken secretly wielding power in the governing body, just like we saw in similar cases of city-wide attitudes in Caemlyn, Illian and Tear. Elaida demotes an Aes Sedai for cause, but Egwene hands out promotions to the shawl as party favors at her inauguration. If the status of Aes Sedai is so sacrosanct, the latter is as much a slap in the face to the other sisters, devaluing their time in training, their ordeal of the test for the shawl and their accepting the Three Oaths, as the former is. Siuan herself notes that Elaida proposed the very course of action she wished in the Hall of the Tower, when she revealed Rand's identity to them, and observes that it is a natural course of action for the Reds. What Siuan wants, and what any Red would want, are close enough to go on. The proclamation that Alviarin forces Elaida to issue about Rand being the exclusive business of the White Tower, is exactly the situation Siuan was planning to effect when she and Moiraine determined their course of action with the Dragon Reborn. Siuan was supposed to approach the rulers with proof of his identity, and "reassurances" that the White Tower had things under control. Not as overt as a direct proclamation, but for all intents and purposes, conveying to the rulers of every nation that Rand was Aes Ssedai business, and that if they wanted anything from him, to go to her. And finally, the crime they accuse Elaida and the Red Ajah of committing, that of letting false Dragons, in particular, Logain, run free, is one that Egwene & Siuan actually commit! They turn Logain loose, hoping he will take the hint and go to the Black Tower and submit himself to Rand, rather than seek to resume his efforts at usurping Rand's title and position or kill him for revenge or hell, go insane anywhere between Altara and eastern Andor, and start a taint-driven homicide spree! She does this, because her power and chances of maintaining authority rest on Logain's story being believed, and the Hall not taking major actions without her input (like gentling Logain, or executing him [bear in mind, he is guilty of a crime for which the penalty has historically been death; the only mitigating circumstance is Rand's amnesty, for whose authority Egwene has neither respect nor regard]) or against her wishes. Basically, Egwene turned loose a former false Dragon of such low character that he is happy to perjure himself to slander a woman who had nothing to do with his capture, whom she will later consider a prime suspect in the murders of several sisters with saidin. If she thinks he is capable of murder, why turn him loose? What's more, Egwene is well aware of the Black Ajah's purported intention to use a former false Dragon to discredit Rand. What's to stop the ones in Salidar from noting his disappearance and saying "Oh, hey! Here's another chance to try that again!"

Where's this attitude when it comes to the White Tower? Elaida was a tyrant who'd appointed the head of the black Ajah as her Keeper. She tried demoting the mistress of Novices to a novice!

The difference between the Tower and the Seanchan-occupied lands, is that the Seanchan are foreign conquerors. Even if you want to stipulate that they are the lawful heirs of Hawkwing, after 900+ years, statutory neglect is absolutely a thing, and they have more than enough cause to chose a new government for themselves. Elaida, by contrast, was lawfully elected as Amyrlin, according to rebel Anaiya, neutral Cadsuane, and loyalist Seaine, who proposed Siuan for the job in the first place. Silviana's punishment came after mouthing off to the Amyrlin in the Hall, during a time of war. Egwene threatens Lelaine with corporal punishment for questioning her experience, and with Romanda for visibly enjoying Lelaine's discomfort. And if Elaida had a Black sister as her Keeper, so did Egwene! At least Elaida did not have a Forsaken giving her backrubs whom she kept around despite every single other person around expressing dislike and contempt for the woman, because she herself found her bitchy gossip amusing

How on Earth was Egwene fighting the wrong war?

She was fighting an offensive, aggressive war against anyone who was not the Shadow, with the certain knowledge that the Dragon was Reborn and that four of the seven seals on the Dark One's prison were broken and two more were fragile enough to break easily, and that three of them broke in the last year or so. Egwene knew better than any single other person on this side of the Shadow (Rand did not know about the one that broke in Nynaeve & Elayne's custody, and only he & Egwene were present when Moiraine demonstrated the fragility of the others in her possession) how close they were to the Dark One being free, and how fast they were failing, and she did more than anyone else to turn a political demonstration against an Amyrlin with an unaccustomedly firm hand, into an open, declared war.

And no right war is fought based on lies, with deception and trickery employed on every level to induce the participants to fight. Siuan lied to deter the Aes Sedai from returning to the fold, Egwene was made aware of the lie before she obtained the declaration of war, she employed lies to induce the Aes Sedai to march, and used the Band of the Red Hand as a stalking horse to trick people to joining her cause out of fear of the battle between her army & the Band they believed was imminent, only telling them the real objective of her army after it was too late. In other words, she got them to sign on for a fight they would never have agreed to voluntarily. Then she provoked resistance at the Andoran border to trick the Sitters into declaring war on Elaida, whom Egwene knew to be innocent of the crimes motivating the rebels to oppose her, telling Siuan "If you hadn''t lied in your teeth, we'd all be in Salidar without an army... They'd never have summoned me to be Amyrlin without your lie about Logain and the Reds."(emphasis mine) Egwene is taking advantage of others' mistaken beliefs solely to claim power for herself. She bases her right to this on her assessment of a woman she knows nothing about, aside from a couple of brief encounters as a student and high-ranking authority figure, and Siuan's views warped by twenty years of grudges. She claims, in the same 24 hours, that without the rebellion Elaida would reign absolutely secure and unchecked and her usurpation (which, again, no one who knows the Tower law and has sworn the First Oath calls as such) forgotten, and also notes how obstructive and difficult the Hall is, and how this is historical, and not simply a circumstance peculiar to the rebels. Meanwhile, in the Tower itself, we see that sunk cost fallacy, plus the optics of replacing a leader in a time of civil war, has the loyalist Hall unwilling to entertain removing Elaida for her errors. If there was no rebellion marching on Tar Valon to render opposition to Elaida tantamount to giving aid and comfort to the enemy, if there was a loyal opposition remaining in the Tower with no obligation to support her, Elaida, had she continued making disastrous mistakes in a scenario without the rebellion, could have been as easily removed as Siuan was. Egwene is objectively wrong about the need for the military option against Elaida, and is making it harder for either side to come to an agreement or for the various critics or opponents of Elaida to check her or make common cause to bring her down! Everything she has done since accepting the stole (and she did not have to - Tower Law does not let you refuse a summons to be Amyrlin, but the Hall in Salidar has NO claim to legitimacy), has made the problem she claims to be solving worse, just as Rand's attempts to rule via Daes Dae'mar and lead his armies to conquer human enemies blow up in his face, and don't stop the Seanchan advance.

Everything from the narrative structure indicated the problematic nature of the Salidar cause. They retained their general and determined to choose a false Hall and Amyrlin the book, Fires of Heaven, whose theme was usurpation of power and agency, and overreach of authority, a book where the main character's first chapters featured him saying "If men have to kill, let them kill Trollocs, not each other...They'll accept my peace, or I'll be buried in the Can Breat" and his last chapter had him decrying "Men fighting their own petty battles with Tarmon Gaidon on the horizon." The buildings and furniture in Salidar are constantly described as degraded, ruined, rotten, falling apart or ill-constructed. Things like this are how authors tell you something bad about the occupants. Jordan does it all the time. The al'Thor house and the Winespring Inn are described as snug, homey well-made places of family and fellowship. The palace in Cairhien is described as rigid and oppressive while the Stone of Tear is a harsh fortress filled with decadent ostentation, and Fal Dara is austere but sturdy and the Royal Palace in Caemlyn is beautiful and comfortable. The Tarasin Palace, which becomes the headquarters of invaders from the sea, is specifically mentioned as having the rooms for the elite open to the sea breeze. None of this stuff is accidental. Hell, Egwene's work chair in the rebel camp is always on the verge of collapse! This is Jordan hinting at how messed up the whole quest is, and it ends with the heroine of the plotline reaming out the sisters and denouncing their whole campaign! Egwene's war against Elaida and her campaign of division in the White Tower was her version of Rand hardening himself and losing his humanity, even Brandon Sanderson could see that particular theme and those parallel character arcs, and thus chose to include the conclusion of Dark Rand and the quest for the Amyrlin Seat in the same volume.

As for the Tower stuff:

Did you miss the part where physical punishment seems to be an accepted method of correction everywhere in RJ's world? (cough, the Aiel)

Oh, the racist barbarians do it! That makes it okay. They also sell people into slavery, so I guess that lets the Seanchan off the hook... The difference is, the people the Tower subjects this punishment to are not allowed to leave, or to refuse an invitation to join.

And 'forces members to use the Oath Rod' is more than a bit of an exaggeration. The accepted/novices want to be there - the majority of women are weeded out by the training, so unless it couldn't have been hard to leave if you wanted.

Did you even read aCoS and tPoD? Remember the Kin? A whole organization that uses elaborate subterfuges to conceal runaways from the Tower, and maintains high levels of security out of terror of the Aes Sedai finding them and discovering the runaways they are hiding? That they actually buy their freedom by tipping the Aes Sedai off about most runaways, and that this is why the Tower allows their dropouts to continue to associate, explicitly because the Kin help them find return and harshly punish anyone who leaves before the Tower wants to let them? If everyone wants to be there, why are runaways such a big issue for the Tower? Why do they have so many runaways, when their reputation for draconian punishment and infallibility in catching runaways is so high? Hell, the rebels in Salidar sent Vandene and Adeleas to Ebou Dar with hunting down runaways as their primary mission, over and above keeping an eye on their two strongest and least indoctrinated initiates, or the queen of the country in which they are operating or doing anything to find the Bowl of the Winds! The Tower thinks finding and retrieving runaways is more important then fixing the drought and extreme heat in the dead of winter. So no. You can't "leave if you wanted."

And as for wanting, they refuse to take any woman over 18 unless she is exceptional somehow, meaning they want to get their hands on their students when they are still mostly juveniles IRL and more susceptible to their methods of indoctrination. They keep them utterly dependent on Aes Sedai. There is no set course of learning, no established or defined goals to aim for, they are not even aware of the criteria by which they are being evaluated. They are only told to obey and work hard at their chores. They are kept isolated from outside contact, friendships with anyone not of their specific, Tower-defined categories are strongly discouraged, they are never allowed to leave, and forbidden intimate relationships with outsiders. They are not banned from having sex, because hormones and emotional fallout from relationships is a distraction from training, mind you. No, the Tower is perfectly fine with teenage girl relationship drama, just as long as no one gets attached to any men! This is a pattern that anyone with any IRL knowledge of abusive relationships or cults would readily identify. The Tower is more strict, and more secretive toward its students, than the harshest European religious orders in the real world which Jordan cited as the primary inspirations for the organization.

Honestly, their methods are a hell of a lot better than the Aiel or Windfinders'.

Then why are the Aiel and Windfinders objectively better channelers who can do more than the Tower can, despite the limited number of weaves they have been able to learn in their isolation and while keeping hidden?

And at least their punishments had time limits - the Seachen kept the damane till they died.

Tell that to every woman who died in the arches of the Accepted test, which the Aes Sedai threw them into without knowing what it does or how it works. Tell that to every woman they murdered in her test for the shawl for demonstrating that she prioritized helping innocent people over following pointless directions from the White Tower.

And tell that to Alivia, who is still alive four hundred years after she is collared, but would have been a century in her grave if she had sworn the Three Oaths.

Also, they're pretty much only 'magic' defence against the Shadow that the Nations know about

This is entirely because the Tower hunts down and crushes any other alternative. No one else is allowed to organize for 'magic' defense by the White Tower. Furthermore, they refuse to answer to this calling. When the Andoran nobles tacitly ask if they are coming to Andor for the Black Tower, Egwene essentially tells them "Fuck you, you don't get to ask, and we'll get to the Black Tower when we damn well feel like it." When Nynaeve and Elayne obtain crucial aid using the Bowl of the Winds to thwart the Dark One's control over the weather, from literally the only people capable of doing so, including even the Forsaken, Egwene throws a fit that in exchange for this help from the only seller in town, they agreed that three sisters would be allowed to quit being Aes Sedai if they wished. (so much for leaving if you want to) The Tower is negligent in their duties as the "only 'magic' defence", because they are ones who forbade anyone else from establishing any other such protection, but they begrudge the price to fulfil their obligations. Hell, it was only Nynaeve and Elayne who even gave a fuck. The rest of the Salidar authorities would not listen and even Egwene balked when they told her about the Bowl. A minute ago she was telling Elayne that she was free to run off to Caemlyn to hook up with Rand if she wanted, that as an Aes Sedai "Nobody can stop you", but when Elayne says "Actually, I found a way to save the world, and that's my priority right now" suddenly Egwene is afraid there will be objections, and even raises one of her own, that “…I raised you because…you’re my friends…you are who I can discuss things with.” Egwene needs confidantes, so, saving the world can bloody well wait. The Amyrlin needs a sounding board more than the world needs rain.

and a lot of them clearly do good - look at how they're revered in the borderlands.

That's individual Aes Sedai, not the Tower (I said the Tower was evil, not that the Aes Sedai were; that was not an accident or careless word choice) or its policies. Actually, the only sister we know who is revered is Moiraine, of whom the Hall disapproves. If we can't judge the Seanchan Empire by Egeanin or Tuon or Karede or whoever you like (my fave is Mor), then we can't judge the Tower by Cadsuane or Nynaeve. Especially not in the case of women who have as little to do with the organization itself as they can help. And, as noted above, they are the only preternatural defense measure around. The Borderlands are desperate, given the stakes of their ongoing war and the odds against them, and terrified of displeasing them and being hung out to dry. None of them want to share the fate of Malkier, whom the outside world believes the Tower abandoned to the Shadow. We see clearly in the stream of consciousness of the first Borderland PoV character to deal with an Aes Sedai that he does not like them, does not want to deal with them, and will give them whatever they want to avoid what punishment they might dish out for failing to give them stuff for free. Note too, that the Tower accepts gifts of money from the Borderland nations that they don't even need, which could be put to use fighting the Shadow, just to keep them in habit of subservient tribute. The Tower gives every sister an extravagant stipend with a potentially unlimited line of credit, and sisters can live in decadent luxuries beyond those of a royal palace if they choose, restrained only by the limits of their own good taste. Aes Sedai are allowed to retain any wealth or property they might have in their own right, as well, so it's not like they need the cash, but they also feel absolutely no qualms about making people do things for them for free, on pain of retribution for not helping.

As for the Oath rod, even Siuan, the Amyrlin seat, didn't know it shorten their lifespans - they began using it during the breaking, to prevent rogue channellers from causing more harm and the knowledge was clearly lost in the turmoil of the period.

Actually, the time frame is somewhat unclear. They began using the Oath Rod much later, not adopting the first of the Oaths until after the Trolloc Wars, per Sheriam, and it's only in the Companion where they say that the first & third were adopted at least 500 years later, with only the Oath against using the Power as a weapon coming before that.

Regarding the current organizational ignorance:

A. They are behaving incredibly irresponsibly making people use something without knowledge of what it does or how it works.

B. How do you think they forgot? According to the Companion, they stopped telling women about the life-shortening effect and the knowledge was lost. Why is speaking of their ages such a strong taboo among Aes Sedai? It goes above and beyond the normal rules against revealing Aes Sedai business or secrets to outsiders, it is firmly upheld among the sisters themselves, to the point that except for the Hall of the Tower "distinction by age was next to anathema".

The Hall uses seniority for all sorts of things, when the rest of the Tower does not, avoids it, and doesn't even like to hear someone point out patterns or issues regarding ages of sisters. That taboo is weird, makes no sense, and is not followed by the governing body. Why would the Hall start using age, when by the time most sisters are old enough to become Sitters, they have spend decades in the habit of policing their own talk and thoughts against age distinction?

Because the Hall's practices predate the taboo. Which suggests that the taboo was imposed by the Tower authorities. Why would they do that?

Because they did not want their followers making any connections between this new practice they have ordered, and the subsequent decline in life expectancy!

And from the Doylist standpoint, the issue of Aes Sedai and the secrecy surrounding it surfaced in the books right at the same time that the discovery of the Kin and their differences from the Tower, who were considered the baseline of channelers, came under scrutiny by Elayne and Nynaeve - why would Jordan introduce those two concepts at the same time, unless they were connected?

Anyway, there is nothing about using it against rogue channelers. That was in the Age of Legends, when the Oath Rods were created to punish violent criminals.

But aside from those issues, there is nothing to defend the Aes Sedai of mentally torturing petty criminals, violating the sovereignty of nations and exerting authority over those who do not consent to it. The Tower contends that their say-so transcends the laws of a nation, but they refuse to be held accountable for their actions to anyone (except in Far Madding, because they can't do anything about it). That's the very definition of tyranny.

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abaddonrighthandofgod · 5 years ago

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Stampede left quite an impression on @doctorxdeath and me, and I think this is truly the most beautiful way to summarise the whole movie in high school AU context.

For the record, they got a 9/an A- despite Bullet's great displeasure at giving them that grade.

#where do I put this file? || misc #person that holds the reins || ooc #the movie was fun but we expected even more because of the hype #so kinda overhyped but enjoyable nonetheless #there is also some wasted potential like comparing law with hancock #law is the most beautiful man in OP fight us any day on this #first two sentences are kinda spoilers even though they are not?#just in case #op stampede spoiler

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waragainstyourfaith · 3 years ago

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Thank you to @broughtmeyourlove for listening to the beginnings of this (aka when I first got my thoughts down) and thank you to me for saying all this in the shower but most importantly thank you @hannibalhadalittlelamb whose art got me to finally think deeper about the nature of Hannibal’s trial. Let’s begin.

Hannibal’s trial isn’t something I usually see discussed within the fandom space. And why would it be? We know the final verdict and we know that besides that everything works out in the end anyway. It’s an afterthought. So who would care? That’s like reading the first few chapters of a book to skip to the final one. Characters change and so does the story as a whole.

On @/hannibalhadalittlelamb’s post (here), their tags read that their depiction of Hannibal is leaning into OOC (out of character) territory. I disagree.

During Hannibal’s trial, we have to think about how it would have gone down. Actually. There was no possible way for Will to miss or be exempt from this trial. His coworkers and boss knew his strong relation to Hannibal and how their professional relationship had definitely, at some point or another, turned personal. The mutual attempts of murder had not been lost on anyone, but, of course, that made Will all the more personal a witness.

However, Will wants nothing to do with Hannibal.

I understand there is a popular theory going around that Will and Hannibal were in a sort of understanding during the trial, but, honestly? We see Will desperately wanting to remain kept away from Hannibal, to live a normal life with a wife and son. Hannibal throws a wrench into this whole ordeal and this trial, after what conspired between them overseas, leaves Will in the headspace and with the opportunity to quite literally never see Hannibal again in his life.

And after everything and with what Will thinks he wants, how could he deny that? Helping Hannibal rule into the insanity plea was not an act of mercy but an act of protection. Will more than anyone knows Hannibal should be kept under 24/7 surveillance and away from every person he could ever harm. Being ruled out of given the death penalty was the underlying bonus his conscience wouldn’t let him think too deeply about.

In court, you are sworn in on the bible, on God, to tell “the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth [...] So help you God.”. Both Will and Hannibal were undoubtedly sworn in, but considering the argument Hannibal’s legal team was using, would you trust a man under the insanity plea or his victim who is an FBI agent more? Right.

So, Will is given free rein in this courtroom to spin the story of him and Hannibal whichever way he pleases. Seeing what I mentioned before, Will is going to remove himself as far away from Hannibal as he can while still being able to confidentially and securely reveal everything without getting his hands dirty nor embarrassing himself. Hannibal does not get this luxury.

Hannibal is a man of his privacy. As many analyses have written and as many real psychologists have said while dissecting the headspace of Hannibal, his need to eat people is his need to control. The trauma Hannibal went through with Mischa, whether you know the depth of it or just the surface, is enough context to explain what happens next. Hannibal eats them. Attitude is Hannibal’s one basis of morals and consensus. “One should always eat the rude”.

To determine their fate and to consume them is him “playing God”, but at its core, it is Hannibal needing to be in control. We see the severity of his true, underlying, desperation come to light at a first glimpse with the gruesome death of Beverly Katz. Undoubtedly, this is one of his most haunting scenes and we see the insides(dissection) of Beverly as she had attempted to find in Hannibal by going through his home. By sneaking a glance under the person suit. His inner monster comes out in a rage during this murder. He is private and anything that anyone knows about Hannibal is what he has allowed them to live to be able to say so. Look at Will’s position once more.

What no one seems to realize is that, during this trial, Hannibal is not in control. Will is the spinster of their life, a life Hannibal used his truest of colors to paint, and ultimately watched it becomes torn to shreds in front of him. Remember, Will is sworn in during this trial. This does not necessarily mean he is telling the truth, but it means everyone thinks he is. It’s a play of tragedy and Hannibal and Will are the two lead star-crossed lovers.

The entirely of Hannibal and the world he has handed to Will on a sparkling platter is being dissected and shown to everyone. The story of the Chesapeake Ripper was undoubtedly massive. A criminal having not been caught for years that everyone seemed to know nothing about revealed to be one of the closest, inside links with the FBI themselves? Tale of the decade.

The spotlight is on Hannibal, but he is being puppeteered by Will without a say in it for himself.

Hannibal cracks as he’s poked and prodded and bare for the media to do as they like and Will sits by and says what he likes. Here is where we would see a sliver of what lays beneath their person suits. Hannibal’s impulsivity and monstrousness under his charming exterior and Will’s manipulative, isolatedness under his empathetic cloak.

We look at Hannibal. He would be torn to shreds from this. The porcelain pot that contains his beast has broken and shattered by the swatting hand of Will, someone he trusted and loved. The intruding eyes of the jury stay on him as he is diagnosed as insane while he considers himself to be in the best possible headspace he ever could be. Everything he told Will and what he considered truth from Will’s mouth was dismissed and disputed under oath.

Hannibal is embarrassed. People call him insane and lock him away at dig through his mind and his things without his permission with protruding needles and telescopes. Hannibal has to play nice to simply be allowed a working toilet and the books that he has collected himself. Anything and everything he writes and draws that he wants to send out is dissected and analyzed. He has no privacy. He is not allowed a toe out of line.

Looking back at Hannibal from season one, episode seven is a good one to compare from, and when we see him first after year years in isolation, we see plain as day these are not the same men. In season one, Hannibal is handsome and cunning enough so that he wiggles his way into the deepest, most protected parts of the FBI as one of the highest-ranked killers on their watch list. He is polite enough to even invite them to dinner and feed them the organs of his victims.

He’s slick and intelligent and Hannibal is the idea of a lifetime.

And then we come to the second half of season three.

Hannibal, at this point, has been isolated for three years and has been under painful scrutiny even longer. During this time, he’s had all the space he could get to rebuild the person suit, but the pieces won’t fit. It’s jaggedly put together and no matter how long he spends trying to perfect its construction to what it used to be, it isn’t what it used to be. Will had done that to him. Will had effectively broken Hannibal.

I see often the running gag that season three is immensely funnier and leaning much more into the comedy aspect of Hannibal during his interactions with Will and Alana and even jack to an extent. But this is not him being funny; this is Hannibal pushing limits.

Looking back to paragraph eleven [“To determine their fate and consume them…”] we come back to Hannibal’s need to control. Remember, in this space, Hannibal is shoved into line. He’s snappy and cynical here. This is Hannibal exercising his limits and testing patience. His acting out and making snide comments is nothing he can be punished for, but it clearly agitates them. Hannibal teeters just enough on the edge of annoyance so that his jabs still hit, but his privileges still remain.

This is his monster leaking through the cracks. Hannibal is desperate. He is grasping for a hold over these people he had looked down upon from his throne in the sky as God for so long. He is rude. This is both his shield and deception. It leaves Hannibal with the idea that he is effectively feeding them out of his hand, that he has them right where he wants them. When Hannibal does this, it is his last line of defense to keep himself from blowing up. Ruining it all.

Season three is not season one. He is gasping and hurt and that is what makes the Dolarhyde kill all the more powerful. The whiplash and bounce back with his and Will’s relationship is powerful and dangerous.

Will watching Hannibal with his dead stare, person suit thrown off the moment he decided to go with Hannibal into that car, as he is shot is groundbreaking. Hannibal can see Will. they have effectively switched positions. As though he were God, Will looks down on Hannibal’s suffering. When Will decides to fight Dolarhyde in retaliation, this is the point it all cuts lose.

At that moment, Will has freed the beast. Hannibal has finally someone to take the reins of his monster whom he trusts. Because Hannibal never blamed Will, even during that time in his isolation, he was waiting. Waiting for Will because despite the betrayal and despite the hurt he loved him. All that time he loved him.

The Dolarhyde kill is the messiest one of the show, which makes it all the more powerful. Hannibal has--I don’t want to say “lost composure”--but he definitely has dropped the act of his togetherness. In this, Hannibal is free. So long he has spent trying to hold himself together, to fool those around him and take care of everyone and himself.

It’s a common misconception that a person in a position of power, such as a CEO, would want to be in this position all of the time. In fact, it’s been shown that the human mind needs a healthy balance. A person who is pushed around on a day-to-day basis and has no control over their life would most likely enjoy having control over a person and vice versa.

God must be tired. Hannibal was. Wearing his person suit for years and years, with only a dangerous outlet to relieve the built-up tension of his monster. To place the control into Will’s hands is inevitable and the best relief for both of them. Hannibal in killing and Will in power.

In that final scene, Hannibal has surrendered control to Will while barring the entirety of what lay within and Will has a high enough apathy for this to no longer have any hold over him. They have switched their roles. Now, Will is the one pulling the strings and Hannibal is the one letting himself be maneuvered.

This trial was the turn of the tables. It was the biggest part of their character and the biggest foreshadowing for the finale.

In Florence, Hannibal has the hold over Will. In season two, Will has the hold over Hannibal. In season one, Hannibal has the hold over Will. This trial that has been left out was the missing piece to even their stance and to level their playing field, making it easiest for the two to blur.

The trial is effectively and consequently one of if not the most important scene that was missing from the show.

#takes a deep breath of relief #working on this all day in bits and pieces #hannibal nbc #text #hannibal lecter #this is 2k words long have fun yall i did not reread this #gro.dy

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scavengerfive · 4 years ago

Text

An Ornament Hung

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tapping twice, you sped up, following the moans.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, hello, Runner Five!”

You looked up at the greeting.

“...you know Santa, Five?”

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

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

“...no. No way,” Sam exclaimed.

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

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

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

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

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

...who didn’t in this weather?

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

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

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

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

You froze while Sam squeed.

“HE KNOWS MY NAME!”

“Mr. Yao, what is going on in here?”

“Oh-um, Janine…”

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

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

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

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

...whatever.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Janine! You cannot interrogate Santa!”

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

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

“Who’s Tom?” Sam asked.

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

“...and she is gone,” Sam said after a pause. “An open book, isn’t she, Five?”

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sam lit up and rushed forward.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, ma’am,” George mumbled.

“Get to it then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what is that?”

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

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

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

“Mr. Kringle! I do not have tim--”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what’s this then?”

“Something for Molly and Mr. Rabbit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sam whooped.

---

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

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

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

“Ready, Sam,” confirmed Jody.

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

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

“Raise the gates!”

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can’t be--”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

Kris chuckled.

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

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

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

“Good. Wait until you are spotted.”

“Received.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The intercom came on again.

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? You don’t want it back now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The comms link was flooded with laughter and jeers.

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

Your groan wasn’t alone. Charlie even booed.

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

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

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

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

“You alright there, Four?” Sam asked.

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

“Good. Goo--”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wiggled your warm fingers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just run!”

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

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

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

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

“Hear what?” Sam asked anxiously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Runner Five!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Guess who got a camera for Christmas!”

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

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

“Eugene!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Five! Over her--Oh, Kris! Hi!”

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

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

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

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

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

“I think I rock it, right, Maxine?”

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

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

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

You nodded, rubbing your sore legs.

“Coming to the party later?” Simon asked.

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

“Nope,” he snorted. “Coming?”

“I’ll probably stop by.”

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

Disgusting.

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

“Whiskey, and I’m in,” Maggie said.

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s advanced technology.”

“Okay.”

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

Sam sighed but pushed himself up.

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

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

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

You snickered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatchu got there, Five?” Maggie asked.

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

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

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

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

---

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

Not a corner was sans gayful laughter and friendship

Children shrieked as their parents smiled on

Friends teasing and jeering and bursting in song

Huddled with his runners laid a young operator

No longer a child yet still a True Believer

And at his side was faithful Runner Five

A willful spirit who will fight for Abel to thrive

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

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

And though midnight passed, and magic faded from their minds

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

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birriabirria · 3 years ago

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homestuck: if you never bleed, you never grow

AU: FANTASY - the prince of derse dirk gets knight of prospit karkat as a reward SHIP: DIRK/KARKAT RATING: MATURE WARNINGS: MOST PROBABLY OOC, IMPERIALISM, KNIGHTS, PRINCES AND PRINCESSES, DEVOTION, PROTECTIVENESS, PROMISES PART 1: IN MY DEFENSE, I HAVE NONE

Karkat ran as fast as he could. There was panic and fury in his chest and it blazed. He couldn’t let them get Dirk. He couldn’t let Dirk get dragged back. There was a man in front of him and he angled his shoulder towards him. He had missed his armor. He always missed it. Now wasn’t an exception. His shoulder met the man’s chest. They both went down. Karkat rolled then jumped to his feet. He kicked. His foot connected with the man’s jaw. When the man went down, Karkat continued running.

He picked up a bucket as he ran. He didn’t want to look at it, never mind touch it but it was necessary. He threw it at another person with as much force as he could. He kept running. He didn’t look back if the person went down. He’d fight them later. Karkat glanced up. The sun was setting. If he could just find a horse then Dirk could get away safely.

He saw what he was looking for. It was a simple cottage and it had been abandoned when they found it. Karkat clenched his jaw. Its door had been kicked in. He ran inside and skidded to halt.

‘Hey!’ Karkat shouted. People turned to look at him and in the middle was Dirk. Dirk was looking at him with wide eyes. Karkat unsheathed his sickle. Dirk took him in. Karkat bared his teeth and the curve of his sickle gleamed. There was dirt on his face and his eyes were the color of whetstone under the light of a blaze. He looked dangerous. Karkat lunged.

He brought his sickle up and blood splattered into the air. He fought against the group with that flinty glitter in his eyes. He stood over the beaten and bleeding bodies. His shoulders were moving from how hard he was panting. Something touched his forearm.

Karkat whirled to face him. His sickle came to rest on a throat. Karkat looked at Dirk and Dirk looked back. Dirk took in Karkat. The flinty glitter in Karkat’s eyes had bloomed into the brightness of a blaze and his grip on his sickle was steady. He had whetted his blade against these people. A thought came to Dirk. He swallowed. It was sudden and ludicrous. If he put his lips against Karkat’s lips, were they sharp enough to cut him?

Karkat blinked, snapping back. This was Dirk. He had come to help him. ‘We need to go,’ he managed to say. He handed Dirk a sword and its sheath on a belt. Dirk’s hand curled around its grip. He put on the belt then unsheathed the sword. Karkat ran out of the house and Dirk followed. There were people ahead of them. One of them swung a sword. Karkat crouched down to dodge then jumped up. His sickle ran across the person’s torso. Blood blossomed across their shirt. Karkat shoved them and they stumbled back.

Metal clanged against metal. Karkat parried a sword. He lowered his sickle then yanked it up. There were more people and Karkat fought through them. Dirk dodged his steps, fighting the others. He could feel his muscles burn. It had been a while since he last fought and he had lost that fight. Dirk gritted his teeth and continued fighting.

Karkat looked around frantically. There were horses around here. He just had to find one. ‘Come on,’ Karkat shouted. He ran and Dirk followed. People ran at them then fell away. Something caught Karkat’s eye. There! There was a horse up ahead. It was in the enemy’s colors but that didn’t matter. ‘Hey!’ Karkat shouted. Dirk looked at him. Karkat jerked his head towards the horse. Dirk saw it. Karkat continued fighting. He had to make way for Dirk.

He fought with furrowed brow and gritted teeth. Dirk had made it this far. They were so close to the group. He couldn’t be dragged back. His fist met someone’s jaw and they went down. He couldn’t bring his armor with him and fuck he missed it but he had managed to find steel-knuckled gloves on the way. Everyone he had fought had worn the enemy’s colors and he had worn it once too. He had been proud to wear the colors once but looking at it now made him uneasy.

Karkat brought his sickle down. He picked up a light sword then continued on forward. He could feel the shadow of tiredness. He was used to slogging through mud under rain with armor but he couldn’t sleep yesternight and he had spent all these hours fighting. Karkat shook his head. He could sleep later. The edges of lips quirked up. He could sleep when he was dead. He kept going.

Karkat dodged and parried as he kept advancing. The sword he had picked up was light enough for him to wield with ease. He cut through the enemy and Dirk turned to look at when he had the chance. Karkat was short and he had narrow shoulders. Dirk thought once that he could overpower him, could bring him under his heel and crush him and losing against him had rankled. But now… But now, he depended on Karkat. Dirk trusted Karkat’s strength. Karkat would bring him home.

Karkat sank his sword into someone’s chest then yanked it out. The person fell. He looked around. Was that everyone? He frowned. No, that can’t be. They’d send as many people as they could. His eyes landed on the horse. It didn’t matter. Dirk would be out of here soon enough. ‘Go!’ he ordered. Dirk looked at him. Karkat looked back. ‘Go!’ he snapped. Dirk moved.

He ran to the horse. He pulled himself up, mounting it. Something moved in Karkat’s peripheral vision. He turned to look. There was a woman readying her crossbow. Karkat’s body moved automatically. He ran at her. The woman moved the crossbow to face him. She pulled the trigger. Karkat let out a loud gasp.

‘Karkat!’ Dirk shouted.

Karkat didn’t hear it. His knees buckled but managed to keep his footing. He kept running. He struck the woman down. Karkat’s chest heaved. He swayed then stumbled back. He fell. He landed on the ground with a thump but he didn’t hear that either. He stared at the sky blearily. The sun had further set and in several minutes the night would come. He rolled, setting his hand on the ground. He could see boots running closer.

‘Don’t you touch him,’ Dirk growled, his eyes flashing like lightning.

Karkat managed to slide his feet under him. His feet set against the ground and he slowly stood up. His shoulder was pain, all sharp. Karkat sucked in a breath then clenched his jaw. The sharpness of the pain had given him clarity. He gripped his sickle tighter. He got to his feet. Someone came at Dirk and Karkat cut them down with a swing. They fell away.

Dirk whirled around, sword pointed at the person’s throat. Karkat scowled at him. ‘What are you doing?’ he snapped. Dirk blinked, snapping back. He lowered his sword. He stepped closer and his hand came to lay on Karkat’s forearm. ‘I told you to go,’ Karkat growled.

‘I’m not leaving without you,’ Dirk said quietly.

Karkat snarled, bright red eyes flashing like his sickle under the moonlight. ‘Stupid,’ he spat.

Dirk took him in. There was blood and dirt on his face, his clothes, his hands. His grip on his sickle was still steady but the blaze in Karkat’s eyes had dimmed into embers. There was a bolt in his shoulder and cloth around it was wet with bright red. He swallowed. To Dirk, he still looked dangerous. Thoughts came to him. They didn’t feel sudden and they didn’t feel ludicrous. No, it felt like it was always coming regardless of where they were and it felt right. It felt like there was some sense in the world and in him. Dirk wished he had flint to reignite the fire in Karkat’s eyes. If he put his lips against Karkat’s lips, would he survive it if Karkat cut him to pieces?

‘Maybe,’ Dirk replied. His grip on Karkat’s forearm tightened. He pulled Karkat towards the horse. Karkat frowned but he was helpless against it. People ran at them. There were more people around. Dirk let go of Karkat’s arm to fight. He had to make way for Karkat. Karkat had stayed with, had fought for him. He couldn’t be dragged back. Dirk wouldn’t let anyone touch him. ‘Go!’ he ordered. Karkat looked at him. Dirk looked back, his eyes were steady. ‘Go!’ he ordered. Karkat scowled but moved.

Karkat breathed in. He broke into a run. He reached the horse and pulled himself up with just one hand. He gripped the reins and turned it towards Dirk. ‘Yah!’ Karkat yelled. The horse broke into a gallop. ‘Dirk!’ Karkat shouted.

Dirk’s head snapped up. Karkat was coming towards him. Dirk sheathed his sword. Karkat held out his hand. Dirk caught his hand and Karkat pulled him up. Dirk got on the horse, sitting behind Karkat. He was still holding onto Karkat’s hand as his other hand came up to grip the reins.

‘Should have just left me there,’ Karkat muttered.

‘You didn’t leave me behind,’ Dirk returned.

‘Because you’re a prince, Karkat answered, ‘I couldn’t leave you there. Or anywhere. I’m just a knight. And not even a good one.’

‘You are a good knight, Karkat, one of the very best,’ Dirk said softly. Karkat snorted. Right. One of the best. He wanted to believe it, in fact, before this, he could believe it. ‘Karkat, are you alright?’ Dirk asked worriedly.

‘Yes,’ Karkat replied, ‘cold and tired with a bolt sticking out of my shoulder. Haven’t felt better.’ His eyelids felt heavy.

Despite himself, the edges of Dirk’s lips quirked up. ‘Don’t worry, I will get you help. You will heal,’ Dirk said determined. There was a knot of worry in his chest. ‘Hang on, we’re almost there,’ he added.

‘Wake me up when we get there,’ Karkat murmured. His eyes slipped close. The last thing he heard was someone calling his name. His last thought was simply “Dirk.”

Karkat slept and Dirk watched over him carefully. The sun had completely set and the moon shone down. The knot of worry in his chest had gotten bigger. It had turned into a ball. He swallowed. He stopped the horse. It couldn’t go any further. Dirk carefully got off. He caught Karkat. He put his arm behind Karkat’s back and put his other arm under his knee. Dirk lifted Karkat then set him down on the ground. He looked at the horse.

He took off its bridle and saddle, throwing them away. He looked into the horse’s eyes. ‘Watch over him. Keep him safe,’ Dirk ordered. It felt silly to talk to a horse but he was desperate, he didn’t know what else to do. They were close to the people they were supposed to meet. So close. Dirk paced, his mind racing. They just needed another horse. If there were patrols in this area that’d be dangerous but that would mean there was another horse he could use. Dirk went to find another one. He didn’t have to go far. There were patrols in the area and one was working. He unsheathed his sword, looking down at its glitter.

He shouldn’t kill so easily, it would catch people’s attention. Enough attention to rival the attention when stealing a horse. Dirk scowled. The storm in his eyes grew stronger, the thunder rumbled. Karkat needed help and they had to move quickly so he would get it. Dirk gripped the sword’s grip tighter. He needed to whet his blade against these people. He needed to be strong enough to bring Karkat home, strong enough to keep him. He grabbed the patrolman’s hand. He dragged him into the darkness.

Dirk’s sword sank his sword into someone’s chest then yanked it out. The person fell. He went to their horse and mounted it. He went to Karkat. He got off then lifted Karkat into the saddle as the last horse looked at him. He sat down behind him. ‘Yah!’ Dirk yelled and the horse broke into a gallop. The moon moved across the sky and set but Dirk’s white-knuckled grip on the reins didn’t loosen. He would bring Karkat’s home.

Dirk yanked on the reins. The horse came to stop. They had finally arrived. Dirk got off, catching Karkat. There was a house up ahead and maybe it was a trap. Dirk looked at Karkat’s face. His gray skin looked sickly. He clenched his jaw. Maybe it was a trap and they both would be dragged back but that didn’t matter. If Karkat would be healed then it didn’t matter if it was a trap. He carried Karkat as fast as he could to the house. ‘Open up!’ Dirk shouted, ‘I NEED YOUR HELP! HE’S HURT AND HE NEEDS HELP! PEASE YOU HAVE HELP HIM!’ Dirk gasped. His shoulders were moving from how hard he was panting. The door opened and Dirk marched in. People came to him and Dirk tensed. Someone closed the door behind him.

Karkat frowned. His eyes cracked open. He looked up at the ceiling blearily. Where was he? He turned his head slowly. Dirk appeared beside him. Karkat opened his mouth but no sound came out. Dirk breathed out shakily, his shoulders relaxing. The ball of worry in his chest loosened. ‘You’re alive,’ he gasped, ‘you’re alive.’

‘Dirk?’ Karkat managed to say.

Dirk’s head snapped up. ‘Karkat,’ he breathed out. His hand came to lay on Karkat’s forearm.

‘Where am I?’ Karkat asked.

‘You’re here with me,’ Dirk answered, ‘it isn’t home but you’re safe.’

‘Safe?’ Karkat asked. He frowned. ‘You should be safe not me,’ he mumbled.

‘Your safety is important too,’ Dirk said. His grip on Karkat’s forearm tightened then loosened. ‘Your safety is important too,’ he repeated. Karkat looked up at him. Dirk looked back. Karkat’s hand came up and he laid it on top of Dirk’s hand.

‘Are you safe?’ Karkat asked.

‘Yes,’ Dirk answered, Karkat’s hand was warm and soft, ‘I am.’

‘Good,’ Karkat mumbled. He went back to sleep. When he woke up, his head was clearer. He was thirsty, hungry and there were bandages on his shoulder. He stared at the ceiling. The Empress Mother said that they had to keep their victory against Derse and he had failed. He had grown soft towards Dirk and not only had he let him escape, he had protected him. For anything remiss on a knight of Propsit was a disgrace. Karkat set his mouth in a thin line. He missed everything and he was a disgrace.

The door opened. Karkat turned his head to look at it. Dirk stilled. He closed the door quickly and went to Karkat’s bedside. Dirk’s bright eyes searched Karkat’s face. ‘Are you alright?’ he asked softly.

‘Fine,’ Karkat croaked, ‘thirsty. Hungry.‘

‘I’ll go get you something to drink and eat,’ Dirk said, He straightened. He walked out of the room. Karkat stared at his back. He really meant it. He didn’t leave him behind. Why? His tongue felt heavy. He wanted to call Dirk back, he wanted to call Dirk by name. Karkat set his mouth into a line. He couldn’t open his mouth or everything would spill out.

Dirk returned with a tray with food, a pitcher of water and a glass. He set it down on the bedside table. Karkat laid his hands on the bed and pushed himself up. An elbow buckled and his shoulders dipped. Dirk’s hand shot out. It curled around Karkat’s bicep and he helped Karkat sit up. Karkat leaned against the headboard. Dirk poured water into the glass then handed it to Karkat. Karkat took it. He drank the whole thing. Dirk handed him a plate. Karkat took it, setting it down on his lap. He picked up the fork and dug in. He ate in silence under Dirk’s watchful eyes.

Karkat finished eating. He set the fork down. He raised his eyes. ‘Where are we?’ Karkat asked.

‘In a safe house,’ Dirk answered.

Karkat frowned. ‘Are we in Derse?’ he asked.

‘We are,’ Dirk said.

‘But not in the capital?’ Karkat asked slowly.

‘No, I can’t go there yet. None of us can. It must be cleared of Prospit before we come back,’ Dirk explained.

Karkat nodded. That made sense. ‘What about me?’ he asked.

‘What about you?’ Dirk asked.

‘What’s gonna happen to me? I don’t think they’ll think highly of me since I got you as a reward,’ Karkat said.

‘You’re staying with me,’ Dirk said.

There was a flash of a sickle under moonlight in his eyes. The knot of worry in Dirk’s chest unraveled. There was Karkat. ‘But?’ Karkat warned.

‘You will be fitted for a collar and you need to stay close to me,’ Dirk answered.

Karkat frowned in confusion. It turned to realization a moment later. He snorted derisively. ‘So I’m your reward for coming home,’ he stated.

‘No. It’s not like that,’ Dirk blurted out, he had to explain, ‘it’s to keep you safe.’

‘Keep me safe?’ Karkat asked.

‘People will come after you and staying by my side will keep you safe,’ Dirk explained. He laid his hand on Karkat’s forearm. He looked into Karkat’s eyes. There was a storm brewing in Dirk’s eyes. ‘I don’t want to hurt you and I don’t want you to be hurt,’ he admitted.

Karkat’s eyes slid down. He looked at the blanket. There had been a spark of affection and devotion in Karkat’s chest. He had stoked the devotion but abandoned the affection. The devotion would help him bring Dirk home but the affection was useless. Affection’s embers flared up now and if he wasn’t careful, it would turn into a proper fire. Would he survive it if burned him? ‘How the tables turn, your Highness,’ Karkat mused.

‘You don’t have to keep calling me that,’ Dirk blurted out. He was being careless but he didn’t care. ‘You called me by name before,’ he pointed out. He sounded desperate to his own ears but Dirk didn’t care.

Karkat licked his lips. ‘I can’t do that,’ he said. He raised his eyes. Karkat looked into Dirk’s eyes. He blinked. Dirk watched his eyelashes brush against his cheeks. The flutter of butterfly wings. ‘I don’t have the right to call you by your name,’ Karkat admitted.

‘You protected me. You brought me home. If there’s anyone in this world who has earned the right to call me by name, it’s you,’ Dirk declared.

Karkat took him. Dirk’s eyes were free of the storm. His eyes were the color of topaz under the afternoon sun. Karkat remembered the feel of the hardness of the gem and it’s sharp edge. He put his fingertip on its edge and pressed down. It would draw blood, it would hurt but Karkat didn’t care. He licked his lips and Dirk’s eyes tracked the motion. Karkat opened his mouth. No sound came out. He closed his mouth. ‘I can’t,’ Karkat said with such bright eyes, ‘I can’t say it.’

Dirk swallowed. He took him in. Karkat really was dangerous. He could cut him into pieces and Dirk would put himself back together to return to him. HIs grip on Karkat’s forearm tightened then loosened. ‘It’s ok,’ he said softly.

Karkat searched Dirk’s face. ‘Is it?’ he asked.

‘Yeah, it’s fine,’ Dirk said gently. His topaz eyes glittered and Karkat saw no lie.

‘I am a terrible knight,’ Karkat said slowly, ‘and you don’t really need it and I know that shoulder is fucked up but if you want me, I will be your knight.’

He did. He did want him. The thought came to Dirk with the clarity of a blaze. ‘You are, you are my knight,’ Dirk answered. Karkat was his. His to protect and his to keep.

Karkat lowered his head. ‘I am at your command, your Highness,’ he declared.

Dirk laid his other hand on Karkat’s shoulder. He could feel the edges of the bandages through the cloth of Karkat’s shirt. ‘My first command,’ Dirk said softly, ‘don’t be so reckless. I don’t want you to be hurt,’

Karkat frowned thoughtfully. ‘That’ll be hard to do,’ he replied.

‘But you’ll do it?’ Dirk prompted.

Karkat sighed. He smiled, small but bright as a blaze. ‘I will,’ he promised.

#dirkkat #my writing #i write

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carewyncromwell · 5 years ago

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[Carewyn took Bill to Flourish and Blotts, where she used the 10 Galleons she’d managed to save up to buy him three new books on Cursebreaking -- The Cursebreaker’s Companion, The Cursed Tombs of Egypt, and All That Glitters: An Study of Cursed Jewels and Treasures. Bill had expressed doubts that he’d have much time for reading while working at Gringotts, but Carewyn had laughed that off.

“You know Rowan won’t accept that, and neither will I!” she’d told him. “If you’re going to be jumping headlong into danger, the least you can do is make sure you’re prepared beforehand!”

Unfortunately Carewyn could only hold Bill at the bookshop for about an hour -- she knew that alone wouldn’t be enough time to get everything ready for a party, even if the Weasleys did use Floo Powder to get to Hogsmeade. So once they were done, Carewyn very quickly tried to divert Bill again, escorting him back to school with a new destination in mind.]

[Bill looked around confusedly.]

Bill: “The Training Grounds? Where we’ve been dozens upon dozens of times before?”

[Carewyn’s smile spread into a full grin.]

“Come on, Bill, don’t you remember? This is where we first met! You were practicing with Training Dummies, and I came to ask you for help with the Ice Vault.”

[Bill’s eyes lit up with understanding, and soon he was smiling too.]

Bill: “Ah -- that’s right. Charlie had told me about you beforehand, but that was the first time we’d actually met...”

[Carewyn blinked.]

“Charlie told you about me? But you said you’d heard of me because of my brother.”

[Bill’s ears turned pink.]

Bill: “Well, yeah -- that was also true, but...well, you being in Charlie’s year, he’d heard all about you standing up to Merula, so he brought you up at breakfast. I remembered hearing about what had happened to your brother, so I asked Charlie some things...nothing weird, just -- whether you seemed okay, you know...”

[Carewyn’s mouth hung slightly open, dumbfounded. The darkening blush started to creep up Bill’s neck and his voice came out more defensive when she didn’t say anything.]

Bill: “I mean, I felt bad. From what little I’d heard of your brother, he didn’t sound like a bad chap -- and you being Charlie’s age and having lost a brother...I know I didn’t know you at all back then, but...it just felt bad, knowing you’d lost your only sibling like that, and I guess I just...worried a little.”

[His freckled face had become fully engulfed by a dark flush by this point, and he smiled weakly.]

Bill: “...Ugh -- I must sound really stupid right now, don’t I?”

[Carewyn had been unable to respond up until that point (which likely was why Bill had been trailing off so much) -- but at his question, she actually gave a quiet choked laugh.]

“No!”

[She was unable to restrain the emotion in her voice. Her lips spread into a warm, soft smile as she forced back the tears prickling at the corner of her eyes.]

“No -- you don’t sound stupid.”

[Bill was startled by the level of emotion in Carewyn’s voice and face. Rather than looking concerned, though, he smiled and his eyes softened visibly -- almost as if he was just as touched by her display of emotion as she was by his explanation.]

Bill: “...I was actually kind of happy when you came to find me. It was good to see that, even after what happened, you still hadn’t given up on him -- or on yourself.”

[His smile became a little more wry.]

Bill: “Remember when we first dueled here, you had the audacity to say you weren’t that great at Wizard Dueling? Then you preceded to chuck a potion bottle at my head and use the distraction to disarm me.”

[Carewyn covered her mouth with one hand to contain her giggling.]

“Well, I didn’t know as many spells then! At least I won.”

[Bill laughed fully.]

Bill: “You always win, Carey.”

[Once Carewyn had successfully reined in her giggling, she said stridently,]

“...Well then, how about we have a go, then? Let’s have one last duel -- for old time’s sake.”

[Bill’s smile gained a more competitive, determined edge.]

Bill: “...All right,”

[Carewyn quirked an eyebrow as she crossed her arms over her chest.]

“You sure you want to bet against me? You just said I always win.”

Bill: “Hey, this is my farewell tour, isn’t it? And just because I said that doesn’t mean you’ll win this time -- you and I haven’t gone one on one in quite a while.”

“You have a point. So what’s the wager?”

[Carewyn’s lips curled up in a pretty, utterly fearless smirk.]

—->To Be Continued...

((OOC: It is one of my biggest headcanons that Bill -- like his mother Molly -- is the sort of person to want to “adopt” and take care of those less fortunate than himself. Therefore I see him hearing about MC missing their only brother and sort of subconsciously going “...Okay. You’re my sibling now” -- and I love it so much. X3

I’ll finish up the next part of this scene tomorrow, after I’ve fine-tuned this additional sketch I’m adding to it. As always, if you enjoy the content, please consider liking/reblogging/commenting, or you can also send “owls” to Carewyn’s askbox. She is always up to chat. <33))

#carewyn cromwell #jacob's sibling #bill weasley #hphm #hogwarts mystery #roleplaying #gameplay #charlie weasley #jacob cromwell #my art

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raitrolling · 4 years ago

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Open Quadrants: Secondary Trolls Edition (Part 1)

just like the first masterpost i made for my main trolls, this is meant to be a starting off point for anyone who may be interested in shipping with my trolls, only for my secondary characters (obviously lmao). these trolls i tend to have less muse for than my main trolls, or they might have an inconsistent muse and i can only write so much rp for them at a time

like i said in the previous post, i only plot and reserve quadrants for friends + rp partners who ive done a couple threads with already so i feel comfortable interacting w. them ooc, but if we are friends/rp partners and u have an idea for a ship lmk!

and given how many secondary trolls i have, im splitting this up between two posts. this post will cover liiore-somerl, and part 2 will cover amarys-fleure

other posts: main trolls | secondary trolls (part 2)

Liiore - 10.5 sweeps / ~22 years, Male, Demi Bi (Female preference)

♥ - Liiore isn’t very outgoing or adventurous, so while he might like someone with that sort of personality he wouldn’t really want to go on a lot of wild dates or anything. He prefers to stay at home as much as possible, so someone who likes quiet nights in would be perfect. He doesn’t have many other preferences other than the standard ‘someone who is nice’ ideal, but he would like someone who is also interested in video games so he’d have someone to play 2P Stardew Valley or Animal Crossing with. Or an MMO partner who doesn’t mind him preferring to do all the sidequests over the actual battling and levelling up stuff. He has a huge weakness for cute girls.

♦ - While Liiore may have a good reason to want to avoid the public, he’s still quite the shy shut-in. A moirail would probably help him get over some of his anxieties about being out in public, even if it is just to offer a hand for him to hold onto if he gets nervous. There is a confident side to him, as he was very good at acting confident during his time as Ocean Star, but he thinks it was all just an act to get through all the scary things about being a celebrity. It would take some convincing, but he could possibly learn to believe that just because he was acting doesn’t mean he’s incapable of doing it again but for real this time.

♠ - Getting into a kismesitude with Liiore is almost an impossible task, seeing as he doesn’t have a single hateful bone in his body. He’s more likely to get upset if someone was mean to him, and definitely wouldn’t be able to say anything mean back. The closest thing to a blackrom relationship would probably be one that’s very pale-tinted, someone trying to help Liiore get out of his shell or toughen him up a bit but may be a little more forceful than what he’d like.

Dismas - 11 sweeps / ~23 years, Male, Pan

♥ - Taken by @/cloudbattrolls’ Maidel

♦ - Dismas doesn’t need a moirail, and he’s not interested in being anyone’s moirail, so this quadrant isn’t a high priority for him. The only thing he’d really need out of a pale relationship is someone who can rein in his edgy persona and be a bit more upfront with others, or can maybe convince him to stop doing dangerous stunts all in the name of information gathering. Things like not deliberately provoking highbloods or threatening to blackmail trolls for little reasons other than his own excitement, so someone with a good head on their shoulders would be preferable. And while Dismas won’t be honest with his affections, he’ll always support you from the shadows.

♠ - Two words: Mind games. If you can keep up with Dismas’ love for them and enjoy everything turning into a game of 4D chess, you’re good to go. Honestly, this quadrant isn’t much different to his red quad, other than you’d obviously see even less of his soft side (which is hidden behind seven proxies like every other thing about him). He’d only be interested in a quadrant if he considers you to be his intellectual equal, otherwise he’d just mess with you for fun. He wants to be challenged, and really wants there to be some sort of secret he can crack. He’d probably get along best with criminals of some sort for this quadrant, given that he works on the other side of the law.

Aislin - 10 sweeps / ~21 years, Female, Bi (Male preference)

♥ - While Aislin tends to fall for trolls fairly quickly, she doesn’t really know what exactly she wants in a matesprit. Obviously someone who is sweet and kind towards her, but that’s kind of a given for such a relationship, isn’t it? She’ll develop crushes on trolls who give her even the slightest amount of positive attention, but she’s careful to make sure her bad boy anime crushes aren’t real bad boys. She’s not going to want to be around someone who is genuinely cruel, and Dismas will also make sure no one tries to garm her.

♦ - Aislin is shy. Very shy. So shy that she’s willing to pretend to be mute than figure out how to deal with her crippling social anxiety that often renders her unable to speak in front of others. Which is something she feels bad lying about, but having to reveal that she is lying is even more terrifying. Someone who’d help her become more confident and find ways to manage her anxiety would be the obvious choice for a moirail, and in return she’ll do her best to help them with whatever troubles them. She has a soft spot for bad boys.

♠ - Aislin isn’t actively seeking a kismesis, but the thought has crossed her mind that she’ll have to get one eventually. Though, she doesn’t really know what she wants and is somewhat scared of the quadrant because it has the biggest potential to go bad. A more rival-type kismesis would suit her well, such as another hacker or a friendly criminal who keeps evading her psiionics.

Eichio - 10 sweeps / ~21 years, Male, Pan

♥ - Eichio has literally no standards for a matespritship other than ‘anyone who wants to be in a quadrant with him’. This is because his self-worth is downright nonexistent and if someone needs to be in a relationship to be happy, then he’ll do it for them. Obviously, this is no grounds for a healthy relationship, and while Eichio is aware that he could easily get in trouble, he thinks it’d be his job to ‘fix’ it and not the other troll’s fault. For Eichio’s sake, someone who will actually treat him like a proper troll and wants to make the relationship work would be a must. He’ll do anything for you, but don’t take advantage of it. Ideally, they’d also be someone who’d want to help Eichio with his own problems, even if it’s as small as letting him rest from time to time, or making him more aware that he does matter as an actual living person.

♦ - A paleship with Eichio is, honestly, a doozy. Eichio is inclined to do everything he can to help everyone and be a ‘good person’, and even more so for a moirail. He’d be perfectly willing to throw his own life away to ensure his moirail is always happy and has no issues to be concerned about, which is obviously a very unhealthy mindset to have. A moirail for Eichio would need to address this and remind Eichio that he is his own person who is worth more than what he can do for others. Similarly, Eichio has a lot of bottled-up issues about expressing negativity, believing that being upset or even angry at others makes him a bad person, and the worst thing he could do is to inconvenience someone with his own emotions. He’d be perfectly happy if the moirallegiance was one-sided so he would have to confront his own feelings, which makes it all the more crucial for his moirail to help him just as much as he wants to help them.

♠ - Plotting / Taken?? w. @/trolloled

Benrii - 12 sweeps / ~25 years, Male, Pan

♥ - Benrii believes in love at first sight, regardless of if it’s reciprocated. If he falls in love with someone, it must be fate! (This applies to all quadrants, not just his matesprit) He doesn’t really know exactly what he wants in a matesprit, other than he knows exactly who when he sees them. He’d most likely get along with someone with similar interests in fate and the supernatural as him, but also understands that he’ll never see them as his equal. There’s only room for one person at the top, but maybe he’ll spare his second-in-command from his divine justice.

♦ - A moirail would be the most difficult quadrant to get with Benrii, as he is convinced he doesn’t need one. Though, once you get past all his bravado and self-centeredness, it becomes a bit more clear that most of his attitude is just a coping mechanism. He craves all the attention he can get, and really all he wants is to feel special. As long as you can validate his feelings in a way that isn’t as destructive as him blowing everything up for attention and to take out all the stronger competition so he can stand at the top, you might be able to persuade him to seek other means of tackling his abandonment issues.

♠ - Benrii easily gets irritated by people who don’t validate his beliefs, especially if they have a similar interest in things like fortune telling and astrology. He hates people who make a mockery out of fate, whether it’s someone who uses fortunes to avoid any bad hands they’ve been dealt, and tries to change their destinies in whatever way. He also hates scam artists and fake fortune tellers who use the powerful forces of fate like a joke, either because they don’t understand the things Benrii does, or they think it’s funny to play with tarot cards like toys. But once you’ve earned Benrii’s wrath, it’s difficult to get him to leave you alone.

Soroll - 11 sweeps / ~23 years, Male, Bi

♥ - Soroll’s really chill and can get along well with basically anyone. He can be a bit oblivious to romantic intentions, and tends to assume that people are just being their normal level of friendliness towards them. Whoever ends up charming him in a flushed way would have to be okay with dumpster diving and potentially getting food poisoning from him cooking up whatever scraps he found in the trash. So, an open mind and an iron stomach is probably necessary. There’s also Soroll’s entanglement with the Red Scarves that will be a major issue, but unlike Mikiel, Soroll is more open to relationships despite his position. He figures he keeps his head down enough that his friends and quadrants won’t be put in danger. He’d probably prefer if any dates were kept to quiet nights in for the sake of not getting noticed by other gang members, though.

♦ - Soroll feels naturally inclined to help others in need, so this relationship will come pretty easily to him. He seems to be drawn towards trolls who don’t take care of themselves properly, which makes him prime moirail material. Someone who needs a doctor-in-training to look after them if they get into any physical scraps or struggle with self-care tasks would benefit from a moirallegiance with Soroll, and since Soroll doesn’t need anyone to look out for him in return he’d even be fine if the relationship ended up being one-sided. He just wants to try his best and do what he can to help.

♠ - I genuinely have no clue if this quadrant would even work, and Soroll doesn’t know either. He’s not the type to hate anyone, either platonically or romantically, and the only hatred that’s been directed at him are those who get annoyed by him digging through their garbage. He’s too chill to have a rivalry with anyone either, and would rather work together with someone who shared his interests than compete with them. If anything, it’d be a one-sided relationship with Soroll being mostly oblivious to the other trolls’ interest in him.

Callan - 11 sweeps / ~23 years, Male, Pan

♥ - Callan wants a hot highblood he can brag about dating. But in all honesty, he’ll get attached to anyone who is nice and doesn’t forget who he is every time they meet. As much as he’d love a matesprit, his psiionics are a big drawback that makes him somewhat afraid of the quadrant. He’s quick to befriend and get attached to people he likes, but very difficult to coax into making relationships official. Other than that, he tends to mesh better with trolls with the opposing personality, typically more serious and even-tempered who don’t mind his attitude and weird remarks.

♦ - Taken by @/trolloled’s Gerrel

♠ - Taken by @/scrambledtrolls’s Izuili

Somerl - 11 sweeps / ~23 years, Male, Bi (Male preference)

♥ - Somerl is married to the sea. By that, I mean that he will always prioritise sailing above all else, including quadrants. Anyone interested in becoming his matesprit will have to accept the fact that he will be gone for perigees at a time, often without any contact, and you will never be able to get him to settle down. He’s uninterested in seeking out a matesprit because of both past experiences in his previous relationship and because he doesn’t want to be tied down by anyone or anything. That being said, the possibility of him falling for someone isn’t impossible, but they’d have to be really special for him to consider no longer sailing solo. Seadwellers need not apply.

♦ - Somerl needs a moirail pretty badly. Somerl would also make a terrible moirail. His main solution to dealing with any issue is to just avoid it, and he hates being told what to do even if it’s advice that’d benefit him. He doesn’t like to feel grounded to one location either, so his moirail would have to be okay with him traveling constantly and only visiting once every couple of perigees (if he remembers to). This inability to take responsibility is something that he needs a moirail to address, but he’s not going to like it. Neither is he going to like having someone try to fix his sleeping issues, even if it would help him a lot. If your troll is a very low maintenance person and doesn’t mind their affections being mostly one-sided, this is a quadrant for them.

♠ - Somerl doesn’t feel like he overly needs a kismesis, but might appreciate the change of pace a rivalry could have. He’d prefer a less serious relationship so that he doesn’t have to compromise his nomadic lifestyle, and definitely cannot stand anyone who is the slightest bit clingy. That being said, perhaps someone who can get him to stick around in one place longer than a couple nights might end up being good for him.

#ooc #masterpost #liiore dariya #dismas teufel #aislin cudovi #eichio maccau #quidel benrii #soroll delfim #callan ranpoe #somerl alfero

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ultravioletsoul · 5 years ago

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Virgo Shaka x Reader - N/S/F/W Alphabet

Oh dear lawd, I’ve always found it a little (ok, terribly) difficult to imagine Shaka of all people in a romantic relationship. Out of the twelve gold saints, he’s probably the least likely to be in one. It was already too much effort for my brain to picture him holding hands with anyone, let alone expressing any interest in doing the do, but here I am… writing an adult post about him.

I need to clarify that these headcanons are about Shaka post the Twelve Houses story arc. Honestly, he would have zero interest in anyone before that since he was a little of an arrogant and vain jerk or, if he did, he would be too proud to admit it because how can a god-like figure like him feel that way?? Ludicrous!

Anyways, yes, after the fight with Ikki (what an absolute mad lad that guy is, bless him), Shaka would be more open to the idea of a romantic relationship but I still feel it’d happen under some special circumstances. And he’s going to be a peculiar boyfriend.

This is a very belated birthday gift for an amazing friend because she loves Shaka, ever since I dragged her into Saint Seiya hell ♥♥. Forgive me if it’s terrible *le cri*

Warnings: Sexual content. Possible OoC. Unbetaed. I have no idea how this happened.

* * *

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex):

Despite his serene appearance, how collected he acts around others, and the way he carefully reins in his emotions to the point he may come off as cold and detached, Shaka can be surprisingly caring and soft with you after an intimate session between the sheets.

Considering he would only do it with someone he deeply cares about and that it’s not a decision he’d take lightly (people just assumed he was asexual until they learned about you and then were confused as heck), you have to mean a lot to him.

So of course he wants to share the warm afterglow of lovemaking with you, lying together in complete bliss.

He may not be very talkative afterwards, but don’t take it as a sign he is troubled or displeased about something. Your most recent experience is still sinking in his mind and he’s not used to feeling so many strong emotions at once.

Little actions such as playing with your hair, kissing your forehead, letting you snuggle against him, or draping a protective arm around you to bring you closer, are ways in which he would show his affection.

He’d also like to make sure you’re both clean and refreshed before a good night’s rest so don’t be upset if he scoops you up in his arms and takes you straight for a warm bath.

Just let him pamper you while he’s in the mood for some touching and cuddling ;)

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s):

Not actually a favorite part of his body, but he likes it when you gently run your fingers or place feathery kisses across his abdomen. If you tease him and “innocently” draw closer to his cock, he’s going to have hard time resisting you (no pun intended :v) and may turn the tables on you.

Shaka loves everything about you but his favorite part of your body would be your eyes because of the beauty of soul he sees in them.

As a saint who fights to for Athena and justice, he knows there is evil in this world but you are a lotus flower growing in the mud. And it’s because of people like you why the goddess he serves believes humanity is worth saving.

He can easily get lost in them when he’s making love. It’s one of the few times he wouldn’t want to close his eyes and he would gently encourage you not to break eye contact either. He loves gazing into the depths of your soul as you both reach new heights of pleasure in each other’s arms.

Nothing but that moment with you matters to him. When you’re two alone in that room, you’re the only deity he worships in mind, body and soul.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically):

Sorry to break it to you guys, but Shaka wouldn’t do cum play or anything of the like.

He’d actually be weirded out if you even suggested the idea to him, and he wouldn’t understand what’s so attractive or exciting about it.

He’s a guy who has always been meticulous and methodical in everything he does given the teachings he’s received from his mentor (the Buddha :o). As someone who has engaged in lots of meditation to clear his mind from fears and doubts, personal hygiene and cleanliness are important to him, so he would prefer to keep the mess to a minimum if possible. So no, he isn’t in a hurry to see you doing stuff with his semen.

Shaka likes coming inside you. It’s the only place he ever wants to be when he makes love to you.

It’s a wonderful, intimate moment and he would hold you tightly against him as your souls mesh together into a single being.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):

It has never interested him before but, after starting a relationship with you, out of curiosity, he might have read some texts on the subject of erotic love. It was for science, tho!

Now now, of course he isn’t oblivious to the intimate affairs of couples, and nobody has to explain to him how babies are made. You can rest assured Shaka knows perfectly well how sex works.

He wants to be a better partner for you but, for all his knowledge and wisdom, he’s aware he’s not exactly the most versed man in such matters.

Despite this, Shaka adamantly refuses to ask anyone for advice, so you bet he’s gonna do the research on his own. He can figure this out.

Shaka would keep it classy, however. Nothing pornographic or vulgar is acceptable. That’s not how he wants to treat you.

Shaka’s approach is purely analytical and educational, and he reads it all with a straight face. The others would never guess what he’s actually up to.

It’s a serious matter for him. He wants to make sure he’s got what it takes to make you happy not only on a physical but emotional level as well.

In the past, the thought of sex wouldn’t have even fazed him. Shaka cared very little about it and honestly he didn’t see what the appeal was.

He still doesn’t much care but when it comes to you, he’s not against the idea.

Fine, he digs it.

But he’s a little embarrassed to admit it.

As someone who has trained to let go of his attachment for sensual pleasures and desires, it baffled him a little that the thought even crossed his mind.

That hasn’t stopped his curiosity for learning more about how to please you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?):

Shaka is a virgin. Don’t @ me.

That’s the real source of his power. Geddit? *fingers guns*

On a more serious note, it is no surprise that he’s not very experienced.

It’s not that he thinks sex is something dirty or bad per se. He just never had the time or any interest in the pursuit of such trivialities. Lust and sexual craving are not traps he would fall prey to. He devotes himself completely to his duty as a saint of Athena, and so he avoids distractions that would hinder the fulfillment of his mission.

You’d most likely get to be the first sexual experience he’s ever had and it’s no simple feat to seduce the man who’s closest to being a god. He believed himself to be above such worldly affairs until he met you and boy…

He was wrong once again.

Finding ecstasy in your arms is nothing short of divine.

Shaka would take his time to be intimate with you, though. He doesn’t do casual sex and needs to be absolutely certain of your feelings for each other first.

However, don’t let his virginal status fool you. He has made his research beforehand (see letter D), he has prepared and knows where to go.

If he doesn’t get it right the first time he’ll try again and again until he has you writhing in pleasure. His own satisfaction is secondary to yours.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying):

Lotus. I’m sorry for being so cliché OMG.

Pic (NSFW)

He spends a lot of time in this position when he meditates, so don’t be surprised if at some point he wants you to sit on his crossed legs and ride him.

Shaka would enjoy the intimacy and closeness this position provides.

It’s not a position that allows for frenzied love-making, but that’s precisely why he likes it so much.

Buried deep inside your wet core, he can feel your heart beating against his chest in unison with his as he holds you in his protective embrace, and there’s nowhere else he would rather be.

He loves it when you shower small kisses on his face and happily surrender yourself to him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.):

The first times, Shaka would wear a serious expression because he’s concentrating on learning what you like, what makes you tick and curl your toes.

He’s studying you not just on a physical level. Intimacy is beyond simple carnal pleasure for Shaka. It’s a matter of spiritual connection.

He’ll get more playful and cocky (no pun intended) once he learns how to push your buttons.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.):

He doesn’t have a lot of body hair and always keeps his face clean, shaven and moisturized.

His nails are well trimmed. His hair nicely brushed and scented. His body devoid of bad smells.

That being said, he’s not very hairy downstairs (he’s got mostly a patch of soft blond hair), but he keeps things well groomed. Shaka doesn’t like sloppiness.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect):

It’s gentle lovemaking with Shaka and nothing less.

However, he can get too caught up in the details and in delivering a good performance that it may be a little difficult for him to really get lost in the moment.

He’s too worried about being perfect and bringing you pleasure that he sometimes forgets about the most romantic aspects.

Reassuring him he’s doing a good job will put his mind at ease. Be appreciative of his efforts and give him your undivided attention.

He’ll be the most doting lover ever because sharing his bed and body with you are very special to him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon):

Shaka has an unbelievable control over his sexual urges and, even if he’s in a relationship with you, that wouldn’t change a lot.

He doesn’t usually masturbate, even when he’s been deprived of your touch for long periods of time (which would be when he’s away on missions for the Sanctuary). He can handle it no problem.

That doesn’t mean you’re not on his mind. Shaka always thinks about you with the deepest love and respect.

Masturbating can never compare to the bliss he feels when you’re in his arms. It’s just empty pleasure and would leave him even more frustrated, aching for you.

He would rather show you how much he loves you and missed you the next time he gets to see you.

Mutual masturbation is something he wouldn’t mind doing, if given the chance.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks):

In all honesty, Shaka is not overly kinky and he’s perfectly content with vanilla sex.

However, he lowkey enjoys being dominated so if you flip him on his back and mount him, he’ll find it a nice game changer.

Ride that boy, seriously. He gets off on being a bottom and the sight of you enjoying yourself so much would drive him to the edge.

Tease him all you want, deny him release or keep him from touching you, he’ll endure it like a good boy.

But if you think you can run the show for too long, get ready because Shaka will get his due.

You’ll have to learn you can’t play dirty and expect him to show you mercy.

Bad girls like you deserve divine punishment ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

L = Location (favorite places to do the do):

He’s a bit old-fashioned, so he prefers the privacy and quiet of his own bedroom. Discretion is Shaka’s middle name.

It’s very practical and convenient too.

There’s no better place than his bed: clean, fresh, comfortable and quiet. He can relax and get in the mood without worrying about anything else.

He also won’t mind doing it on the floor, provided it’s pristine and there’s a plush mat with lots of cushions on it.

If he’s in your place, your bed and environment have to be clean and neat or else he’s not going to feel up for any sexy times.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going):

As someone who spends a lot of time inside his head, he needs a stimulating conversation to get him going.

It doesn’t even have to be sexual. You could ask him about his life as a saint or engage him in some philosophical talk. He’ll be happy to share his knowledge with you and will be interested in what you have to say.

Stroke his ego a little but don’t make it obvious.

On the other hand, witty banter turns him on, too. He’s got a sharp sense of humor but if you can turn around his jokes and roast him, leaving him speechless, he’ll want to get even through other means.

And you can imagine how ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Shaka loves foreplay. The more foreplay you have, the more aroused he’ll be. He can spend hours just kissing, cuddling and touching.

A nice bath with him can also get him in the mood. He’ll feel more comfortable if you’re both clean and fresh. It doesn’t matter if you’re about to get dirty again.

If during foreplay or sex you whisper sweet nothings in his ear and praise him, that’s a sure way to turn him on. Praise that boy if he’s doing an amazing job, he’ll try to do it even better.

On the other hand, don’t be shy to tell him if something isn’t working for you. He’ll know if you’re faking it and that will kill his inspiration. He’ll start doubting himself.

He likes it when you talk dirty to him, even if your words make him blush, but refrain from being vulgar. He will find it in bad taste.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs):

Anything that involves humiliation or degradation of you or himself.

Any weird kinks.

Don’t ask him to get into hard-core BDSM. He won’t do it.

Edgeplay. Anything that would hurt you is a big no for him. He loves you too much and wouldn’t bear the thought of bringing any harm upon you even if it’s consensual.

He won’t do it in public places.

Poor hygiene will definitely turn him off.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.):

He may not be very keen on the idea of oral sex at first, whether it’s giving or receiving. Poor bb is still shy even if he doesn’t want to look like it.

But he may be open-minded about it once he gets more experience with you.

He’ll get there with gentle guiding and reassurance, but don’t rush him if he isn’t ready yet. Let him go at his own pace.

Once he gets past his initial shyness, he’ll be more confident to go down on you.

He won’t mind receiving but he prefers not coming in your mouth or any other part of your body.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.):

Let’s be honest. Shaka doesn’t fuck. Ever. He’s not gonna rip off your clothes or manhandle you or use you like his plaything. That’s not his style.

Don’t get the wrong idea. Despite his cool exterior, he’s still a passionate man. It’s just that his passion burns slower than most.

He will take his time to make sure everything’s perfect so you both can take delight in the experience.

His mindset is one of enjoying the build up and the journey rather than desperately rushing to his destination.

He wants to relish in every kiss, every caress and every sound of pleasure you make, he wants to feel all of you— to reach into your soul.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.):

Quickies aren’t his thing. Shaka’s sex life isn’t very spontaneous, so suggesting him to pull off a fast one isn’t going to appeal to him.

He can control his urges and expects you to do the same. He can wait until a more appropriate time for intimacy.

Shaka needs preparation to have sex. He wants to be in the right state of mind, he needs to plan the details of that special night with anticipation, he doesn’t want to leave anything to chance or else he’ll find it difficult to be at ease.

Let him have it his way, it’ll be worth it.

Conversely, you can teach him how to be less uptight and not to fret over being flawless.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.):

Shaka is game to experimenting as long as you talk about it beforehand, but don’t expect him to go outside his comfort zone. It’s a feat in itself that you even managed to get him laid.

He prefers sticking to what works for you both, so keep in mind he’s not very adventurous.

But he’ll do his best to please you and will be open to suggestions on how to spicy things up in the bedroom.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?):

It may not look like it but Shaka has a surprising amount of stamina.

Though he’s a bit slow to warm up, his passion will burn longer.

He won’t tire out easily but if you’re exhausted already he’ll let you rest. If you want to go another round, he’ll be happy to oblige.

He can last for a very long time without releasing inside you, but he’s also learned to have orgasms without ejaculating.

All that meditation and self control stuff? Well, turns out it’s helped him have a wonderful sex life with you :v

Bae can keep going all night long. You’ll sooner get exhausted before he does.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?):

He doesn’t own any toys. The only toys he knows are the ones kids use to play.

Blindfolds and restraints are okay. He’ll use them on you if that’s what you want.

He still prefers simple, intimate, vanilla sex. Less is more for him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Shaka can be a big tease when he wants to so don’t expect him to be very merciful if you provoke him.

He loves it when you beg him like a god tho.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.):

He’s not very loud. Shaka is always restrained about how vocal he is, but you’ll definitely hear him grunt and sigh and moan often.

He prefers listening to the sweet sounds you make.

Once he’s close to an orgasm, he can get noisier and will try to muffle his moans by biting his lips or kissing you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character):

At times when tending to his garden in the house of Virgo, he’s thought about making love to you under the night sky and among the flowers he’s cultivated.

Your hair covered in petals as the light of the universe shines in your eyes is a sight he wants to see in this life.

Though maybe he’ll never have the chance to tell you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes):

Ideal size. Not too big, not too small. Proportional to the rest of this body.

He’s got a pretty cock, honestly. Its texture is silky and when he’s hard it turns a rosy color.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?):

Shaka’s sex drive isn’t very high actually and, if it’s up to him, he won’t have sex very often. He’s for quality before quantity.

You may start wondering when was the last time you even had intimacy.

Don’t be surprised if it’s been 84 years.

He might as well look at the calendar and think “we haven’t done it in a while, next week may be a good time to get it on”.

His training taught him not to grow attached to his desires and he’s tremendously disciplined at that.

It doesn’t mean he doesn’t have sexual desires. He just doesn’t let them control him and is not animalistic about them.

Sex isn’t the most important aspect to have a fulfilling relationship. It’s just the icing on the cake, so to speak.

What truly matters is the emotional bond you two have forged.

You’re not an object for him.

He can live happily without any kind of sexual intimacy if that’s what you want. He won’t love you any less for it and you’ll never hear complaints or reproaches from him.

Shaka doesn’t feel guilty about wanting to make love to you. Just don’t expect him to be a sex beast ready to pounce on you any time. That won’t happen.

Shaka would have no problem if you have a higher sex drive than he does. He’ll strive to make you happy.

If you take the initiative and try to get in his pants, as long as he’s in a private and comfortable environment where he can let go, he’ll give in. Otherwise forget it.

Plan ahead if you intend to get naughty with him. Shaka will appreciate the thoughtfulness.

Just don’t take advantage of him because as much as he enjoys sleeping with you, he’ll quickly get bored if all you think about is undressing him when you’re with him.

Don’t reduce him to a sex object for your personal gratification, he won’t be comfortable with it. Respect and love him like he does with you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards):

Shaka doesn’t fall asleep immediately.

He likes cuddling after making love.

He may have his eyes closed but he’s still awake and he’s listening to your every breath, your heart beating, he’s basking in the warmth of your gentle and blissful cosmos.

He can’t believe he has the most wonderful person in the world by his side.

Even if you both know it may not last, that the next holy war approaches fast and he’ll have to fight, you’ve made peace with it. You accept what the future holds in store for both.

However, that thought still keeps him awake at night.

But he’ll never tell you. He’ll just kiss your forehead and stroke your hair until you’re fast asleep.

* * *

Well, that’s it. I can’t believe I did this. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed (?

#virgo shaka #shaka de virgo #saint seiya #knights of the zodiac #shaka de virgem #virgo shaka x reader #the things i do for love #ayyy

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