#not even like a crumb a whole entire stick

[enpassants]

i just found a full pretzel stick in my shoe WHO PUT IT THERE

[ilikekidsshows]

The most ironic part of people defending Marinette in Ladynoir and Marichat is that hardly any analysis I've ever seen about her "being soooooooooooooo adoring to her Kitty uwu" ever EXPLAIN Marinette's feelings either.

Even her own fans mostly only write abuse and neglect excuses and talk about some endlessly vague softness, some at this point meaningless heart eyes, and whatever short lines of kindness of the week on her end of the ship are thrown in there.

Even Marinette's own fans apparently can't not go in depth on her "boundless love and devotion" for Chat Noir because the show drags everything down with her writing. It's always the same surface level crumbs. So how are WE supposed to get more out of it then?

If even her own defenders mostly only really talk about Catrien doing 95% of the work in Ladynoir and Marichat in Canon, then how are WE supposed to say something different? We are complaining for the same reason as they are focusing on Catrien: he's canonically actually contributing to the damn SHIP in ways that are pure enough to talk about.

All canon ever does for Ladynette's side is explain what use, excuses and comfort she gets outta his presence. That's also all her canon self ever truly highlighted in her crush era besides him bein hot.

Even her own defenders reduce her crush on him to thirsting. I've never seen anyone actually talk about the scenes in Passion where she for real showed effort and progress cause, I guess, that would require of her fans to acknowledge that she prior to this acted wrong in the first place. And of course the critical people won't make the posts cause when her damn fans can't be asked to acknowledge the rare REAL moments where she actually TRIES then I'll sure as hell not do their damn job.

Cause it's almost hilarious, right? For as much as Marinette defenders yell about us being too harsh, I've truly wanted to read analysis posts on her feelings for Chat to be convinced. But for 2 whole seasons her own fans failed her. They hardly say anything of substance and mostly count on Catrien to make up for her lack of contributions in the ships. Even massive fan Blogs like Buggachat for example are constantly showing that writing flaw in their content. That Adrien has to put up with and has to romantically do WAY TOO MUCH to make up for Marinette’s writing that sticks even in the most best faith (and often to at least some extent ooc, if not entirely) characterization.

When even her own fans spew nothing but endless excuses then don't blame us for picking up on that.

When even her own fans say hardly anything but abuse apologia to defend her then don't blame us for picking up on that.

When even her own fans say that she should be thanked and rewarded for having failed Chat Noir in basically ever possibly way, but hey, at least she stopped being an aggressive Jerk about it, then don't fucking blame us for picking up on that.

We're the ones who can at least argue with Canon scenes and whole episodes to make our point that Ladynette treats him badly. Her defenders say that canon doesn't count whenever they don't like it and otherwise point to their fanon as arguments. Forgive me for thinking that our side has the stronger case, our arguments are the ones that hold up when put to the test by Canon.

---

Yup. Stanning Marinette has to be based off vibes and made up stuff at this point, because the canon is giving us nothing to root for other than her being the protagonist. All the likable aspects of Marinette are so downplayed in canon these days, that the fans have to actively ignore canon to make her a better person they can view as an undisputed hero. And that's without getting into all the abuse apologia and excusing of bad behavior they engage in whenever they don't outright claim Marinette didn't do something she actually did in canon.

It's basically what that person who wanted writing tips for Marinette said; how can we make fanworks where Marinette is a good person who cares about her partner, when the character in canon, based on her canonical actions, probably doesn't care? Well, I try to avoid Buggachat’s stuff these days specifically because all I've seen from said stuff these days is trying to make the toxic stuff look quirky and cute. This isn't the only fanwork that's like this, though. Like, I remember when the Paris Special came out and people started wondering if the alter versions of the heroes were gonna tell each other their secret identities and work more closely together and all the fanwork with this concept was just: “Haha, the main verse lovesquare can’t count on each other for anything and the supposed villains support each other better! It's so silly!”

Like, the toxicity does sometimes get depicted in fanworks but it's always just funtimes, and not actually a problem because they treat it as a two-sided thing, where Adricat participates in the mess in their relationship, when he's the only one trying to be wholesome. There are so many comics of Maribug doing something absolutely horrible to Adricat and the artist’s comments are just: “they're such disasters, lol” when Marinette is the only “disaster” in the equation, but they have to be equally guilty, because then they can brush it off as just “communication issues” instead of Marinette being a self-obsessed jerk.

Like, the reading of the lovesquare as mutual communication issues is understandable to a point. In seasons 1-3, the typical dynamic was “Cat Noir hides his problems, because they're home-related, and Ladybug remains oblivious that he isn't always happy”. However, Cat Noir did tell Ladybug, all the way back in Syren, that he doesn't want to be left out of the loop, which is all Marinette does in season 4. The season 4 “Ladynoir Conflict” isn't based on Cat Noir hiding something Ladybug is oblivious to, even though everyone is used to treating their dynamic that way. In season 4 Cat Noir does tell Ladybug what's wrong, tries to do so repeatedly, only for Ladybug to shut him down by ignoring him, giving him excuses or by repeating apologies she doesn't actually mean because she has no intention of changing the way she behaves with him. The more I looked into what actually happens in season 4, the more I realized that the “the Ladynoir conflict is mutual communication issues” take is wholly inaccurate. Marinette alone is the one keeping secrets.

Marinette Stans have to make stuff up and ignore huge junks of canon in order to depict Marinette as a good partner and person these days, because the stuff the writers have her get away with keeps getting worse.

[cosmicjoke]

See, this conversation really highlights everything that's wrong with not just the Loki show, but the MCU in general now.

What they highlight here, about Loki's conversation with Mobius, and how dismissive and flippant he is while talking about what he did he New York, like it's all some silly joke that shouldn't be taken seriously, like it wasn't a big deal, like what he was feeling while he did what he did wasn't a big deal, is really the heart of the problem. Nobody takes anything seriously in universe, so how the hell is the audience supposed to take anything they do, think or feel seriously?

They've reduced Loki's entire character to a joke. They've reduced what he went through in the first Thor film into to a joke, what he went through when he fell through space and landed in Thanos' clutches into a joke, what happened during the first Avengers film into a joke. Everything's a big, fucking joke now. How can anybody like this? Don't they see what the writers of this trash are doing? They're shitting all over you by shitting all over the thing you love. By making fun of it and undercutting it, they're telling you you were stupid to ever take any of it seriously. It's the ultimate form of disrespect to the fans. It's a blunt insult.

This kind of shit drives me absolutely up a wall. It's so awful. And what they say in this video is so spot on. Loki started out having such depth and gravitas and presence. He started off as such a commanding, attention grabbing, complex character. And now, he's just some guy who eats pie and talks about his feelings, but with a flippancy which tells you that he doesn't actually have any feelings at all. He's just a hollow cut out that's full of shit. It's such a god damn joke.

People shouldn't settle for this. They shouldn't praise it because 'well, it's not as bad as the first season'. Because that's such a high bar to clear? Loki getting kneed in the nuts over and over by Sif. That's the bar you're clearing. Loki falling in love with a variant of himself after knowing her for five whole minutes, for no discernible reason, because who the fuck would love Sylvie, the most obnoxious bitch in the universe ? Loki getting man-handled and getting his ass handed to him by a bunch of humans with taser sticks. Loki being made a fool of every other scene. Loki losing every fight he gets into. Loki being tricked and outsmarted at every turn. Loki being so narcissistic and brain dead, that he can't see when he's being manipulated. This guy is supposed to be a genius. He's supposed to be terrifyingly smart. Anyone who knows anything about this character knows that. But reverse psychology works on him, I guess.

So Loki does a little magic which, more than anything, just highlights the utter void of creativity in these writers minds, and we're supposed to cheer and clap? Loki is a god. Loki is the most powerful sorcerer in Asgard. He can do pretty much anything you can imagine. And this is the best they can come up with? He holds someone down with shadows on the wall. Wow. So impressive. Get the fuck out of here.

But that's really the problem. They've reduced Loki into such a shadow of what he once was, that even the barest crumbs of it that we get now, we get excited about. We praise and point to as proof that things are "better". They're not better, though. This Loki is still a clown and an idiot and acts and conducts himself in ways nothing like what was originally established with this character. This Loki still has nothing to do with the original character's story or history in the MCU. They make passing references to that history, and play it off for laughs, instead of actually delving deep into it and exploring it and helping the audience to really understand and sympathize with Loki as a character.

Loki talks here about being "angry" with Thor and Odin. Okay. That would be great, except he says it like it's a joke. Imagine if instead of that, it was actually treated seriously, and we finally, finally, got an examination of what Loki was going through emotionally during the first Thor film? Imagine if Loki actually got to acknowledge the devastation he felt when he found out he was a frost giant? If he got to really acknowledge the alienation and rejection he felt upon discovering he was the very thing that his own people, the Asgardians, had always considered to be lesser beings, and not only that, but literal monsters? Imagine if he got to really express the turmoil of that? Of finding out you come from a race of beings you were raised to believe were inferior, in all ways. If he was allowed to process why he had such an overwhelming emotional and mental breakdown, that he tried to destroy Jotunheim and then take over Midgard. Imagine if we got an actual acknowledgement of what lead up to all of that, with Loki feeling like an outcast, a reject among Thor's friends, among the Asgardians in general, always seen as lesser than Thor in everyone's eyes. Does nobody remember how disrespectful practically everyone was to Loki in the first Thor film? From servants to the Warriors 3 and Sif, to Heimdall. They all treated him like shit. Fucking Christ, there's a literal world of ideas and character depth to explore there, and they just... don't. They could have devoted the whole show to this and it would have been riveting. Imagine, imagine, imagine. But nope. Instead, we get a passing reference to it, written and delivered as if it was all some big comedic skit, and the rest of the show is about finding Kang so they can set up Avengers 5. Holy shit. People should not accept this as good. People should not praise or even give positive commentary on this because it's "better" than the first season. It's not better. It's more of the god damn same.

People shouldn't accept mediocrity. They should demand better. Because if they don't, Marvel and Disney will just keep putting this same shit out and think they can get away with it.

[keelywolfe]

With Tongue (short)

Crowley and Aziraphale discuss the angel's most recent assignment during 'The Arrangement.' This does not go in the direction Crowley expects.

~~*~~

"So how did it go?" Crowley asked idly. Not that he was particularly interested in the details, basic temptation and all. If there'd been any issues, he had no doubt Aziraphale would have brought it up before the waiter even arrived with the menu. But it was good to keep the angel talking during dinner, he was wont to become a little too absorbed with whatever was on his plate and ignore his dining companion a tad too much for Crowley's tastes.

Aziraphale dabbed at his mouth with a napkin before he answered, lest any cake crumbs escape. "It was actually terribly easy."

"Eh, usually is,” Crowley drawled. He idly tipped his wine glass up on the rim of its base, rolling it across the tablecloth like a crystal wheel. “A nudge here, a wile there, most of them fall pretty quick."

"Hmm,” Aziraphale took another bite of cake, some unholy concoction piled high with white cream. Crowley was making a sincere attempt at not showing he was deeply invested in watching each bite disappear between the angel’s lips, with limited success. “Honestly, he was rather demanding about it."

"Demanding?” That made him frown. The humans he was sent after were usually readily susceptible to the mildest of suggestions; certainly the tasks he offered to Aziraphale were on the low end of the difficulty scale. “Really? How so?"

Aziraphale hummed around his fork, though whether that was in agreement or appreciation, Crowley couldn’t tell. He dabbed at his mouth again, wiping away a tiny, distracting smear of cream from his upper lip. "Mm, yes, and entirely too much tongue about it as well."

His focus on the angel’s lips was broken as his thoughts came to a screeching halt and the only thing that kept his wine glass from topping over to spill a lovely Cabernet across the white tablecloth as the sudden convulsive clench of his fingers. "....wha...tongue??"

"Well, yes, of course,” Aziraphale frowned at him in mild disapproval, “however do you kiss them?"

"K--kckkkc---ki--" The word caught in his throat, lodging in there like a bit of cheese or undigested potato. He managed to raise his glass to his mouth without slopping the lot of it down the front of his shirt and gulped it down, wheezing as half of it chose to be defiant and traveled down the wrong pipe.

Aziraphale’s frown deepened into concern, enough that he actually set his fork down. "Gracious, are you all right? I know you were a serpent, but you might want to save swallowing things whole to food rather than wine glasses."

"I don't—” Crowley rasped, trying to get past the betrayal of his corporation’s vocal cords when he needed them the most. He managed to splutter out, loud enough for the nearby tables to cast them a variety of askance looks, “You kissed him??"

"Of course I did.” It should be impossible for those words to sound so prim coming from an angel, from his angel, who now that Crowley didn’t seem to be able to choke to discorporation, was returning to his cake with polite enthusiasm, his napkin back in full force before he added, “He was quite agreeable afterward. And I won't have you say I'm not trying my best to keep to the standards of our arrangement."

"Angel!?" Too loud and the pitch of that single word was high enough to send a tremble through the crystalware in the entire room.

Aziraphale was frowning again. "Dear me, are you quite well? You're very red, Crowley, here, let me get you a glass of water."

He started to rise and Crowley snapped out, "Why, so you can stick your tongue down the waiter's throat?"

"Tch, you're being silly,” Aziraphale sighed, “I would do no such thing. The water is free."

"ANGEL!!?!” This time every wine bottle in the dining room shimmied an inch to the right. The other patrons were focused intently on their dinners and not at all sneaking glances to the veritable gossipy show unfolding before them.

Aziraphale sat back down with a sigh. There was the faintest pull of a smirk at the corners of his mouth. "Do you know, you're quite gullible at times, my dear."

"…gullible,” Crowley repeated. Was this how humans felt right before insanity struck? He suspected it might be, wondered if Hell allowed for time off due to unexpected mental health crisis and what form he’d need.

"Mm, yes,” Aziraphale picked up his fork again and took a rather unseemly large bite of cake that left a smear of cream on his upper lip that he licked away, a pink flicker of tongue heralding the arrival of his napkin. “Also, I have a blessing to do next week in Bristol, I believe it's your turn."

"Gullible. Bristol. Tongues." Obviously his mind had broken, Crowley decided, and his reset button was currently out of reach.

"Hm, I do believe I'll get you that water, after all,” Aziraphale decided. “Don't wander off, who knows what might happen if you start babbling about tongues to a human all willy nilly. Ta!"

Crowley watched the angel make his way to the service table, leaning in what Crowley thought was entirely too close to the young man in his quest for water. Revenge, he decided abruptly. He was a demon being taunted by a reckless, impudent angel and this would not stand. There would have to be revenge for this and he’d begin planning quite soon.

Right after he watched Aziraphale finish his cake.

-finis

[aesopsharpmybeloved]

Echoes of Yuletide

A look into the life of Aesop Sharp, his family, friends, and the Christmas he spent with and without them. And, of course the love that brought back his ✨spark✨.

I would be desperately lost without my consultant, partner in crime, and brilliant friend @tea-withjamandbread

Yay, I managed to finish the Christmas fic before actual Christmas!

Echoes of Yuletide (10k words)

tw: parent death, best friend death, mourning/grief, child loss (implied), sexual content (mentioned), past alcohol abuse, teacher-student relationship (reader is an adult)

Aesop Sharp loved Christmas.

That is, he was absolutely crazy about them as a small child. It was never just about the presents (though those were a big plus), but it seemed that time in December was filled with nothing but happiness and cheer. Willow Creek, where he and his parents lived, was normally never as bright as it was during this time. It was a small village, and life there was slow. Nobody was ever in a rush to get anywhere, and there was always time to spare to to chat up the neighbours, as his dad and mum were so fond of doing, there was always time to go check out what the local greengrocer had on stock, ad there was always time to take a walk through the village green, to sit and just watch as life around happened, leisurely and calmly.

During the time of Yuletide, however, the whole village lit up in a flurry of colours and cheer, and everybody was rushing. Rushing to see as many people, to sing carols at as many houses as possible. It was a pleasant kind of rush. People decorated not only their homes, but the entire hamlet as well, and once the sun had set in the afternoon, Aesop always marvelled at the brilliant sight. There were candles and oil lamps burning with coloured flames upon every house, a wreath on every door, and some people even had fairies suspended around garlands for their ethereal multicoloured glow. 

“Are they charmed? To stay where they are, I mean.” Aesop would ask his mother, as he didn’t think he himself would be too thrilled about the prospect of just standing or fluttering around, stuck in one place outside in the cold of winter. “No, dear,” Magdala Sharp would answer, “fairies are very vain little creatures, they enjoy being used as decorations, as they get to be looked at and admired.”

Aesop soon decided the fairies indeed were quite full of themselves, as when he offered one of them a crumb from his gingerbread man, the fairy did eat it, but then proceeded to stick its tongue out at him and blow him a raspberry. 

The Sharp household was always much jollier than usual too. That is, it was always jolly - his father’s little jokes never failed to leave him giggling, and even his mum, who always rolled eyes at her husband good-naturedly, offered a chuckle from time to time at the puns Theodore Sharp said. During Christmas, however, his father was the most cheerful Aesop had seen him, and his enthusiasm was more than a little contagious. His mum wore beautiful dresses and jumpers every day, and made Aesop hot cocoa whenever he asked for it. His dad would show him how to sneakily pinch the freshly baked Christmas biscuits, and how to quickly dodge the spatula if caught in the act. His parents would dance around the living room together to the rhythm of whatever carol Theodore sang.

“Easy on the mead and eggnog, dear, we wouldn’t want you to take down the tree because you were a bit too frivolous in spinning me!” Aesop’s mum would warn, but the Muggle always only laughed harder and spun her faster. 

It seemed like normal life actually stopped during this time - there was only the smell of vanilla and cinnamon, combined with the earthy scent of their Christmas tree, beautifully decorated by his parents and him without magic. There were slow evenings spent by the fire in their living room, where he’d roast apples or chestnuts to snack on, while his parents lay curled up together on the sofa, talking among themselves so softly, Aesop barely heard them.

And then, when he’d wake up on Christmas morning, it was still a little dark outside as the excitement wouldn’t let him sleep a minute longer than necessary. He’d run down the stairs to find a neat pile of presents wrapped in colourful paper and bound with strings and ribbons left under the tree. He’d return up the stairs, and quietly enter his parents bedroom to crawl between their sleeping forms on the bed. “Mummy,” he’d whisper in his high little voice barely able to contain his joy, “Daddy! Wake up, Father Christmas was here!” 

His mum would wake up quicker than his father, but both would eventually indulge him and go downstairs to see what they’ve been given, but not before taking turns tickling the child for having woken them up so early. And as Aesop cheerfully played with his new toys, he was faintly aware of his parents watching him with content smiles on their faces, huddled together on dad’s large armchair, drinking their morning tea and trying not to succumb to the seductive pull of slumber. 

If he knew it would be the last Christmas they spent like this, Aesop wouldn't have woken them when he came into their room. No, he’d cuddle up to his dad, and he would just hold him while he slept, because eight months later, his father was stabbed while at work by a robber trying to escape, and left for dead. 

Hearing his mother’s anguished cries when she was told the news would haunt him for the rest of his life. 

And yet, after that first night, which he too spent sobbing uncontrollably into his pillow, he never saw his mother cry for dad again. That is, he knew she cried at the Funeral, but she made little to no sound, and her tears weren’t visible behind the black weil she wore over her face.

Aesop cried a lot, and he cried often, and Magdala would hold him close to her, shush him, and comfort him, but she wouldn’t tear up. And even then, Aesop understood that it wasn’t because she wasn’t sad about losing dad, but rather because she didn’t want her son to be even sadder than he already was. Aesop knew she was suffering like he - she lost weight and grew pale, and she’d sigh more than he ever heard her sigh, and wistfully look at the places her husband would sit, as well as the unfinished tree house he began building for Aesop. Aesop would often come into his parents bedroom at night to sleep next to his mother, and breathe in his father’s smell that lingered upon the pillows and the blankets. He even snuck a few of father’s shirts into his room.

The bedroom next to his own used to have a crib and a rocking chair in it, and he used to see mum going there quite often before dad passed. Shortly after the funeral, the room became empty, and Aesop never saw his mother come near it anymore.

Aesop Sharp, once a happy, cheerful, delightfully mischievous young child now spent the majority of his days silent under the crushing weight of his father’s death. 

He knew justice was served in the end, but it offered him little comfort.

“Sweetheart?” Magala said one day. Aesop didn’t answer, but looked up at his mother from the book he was practising his reading on, “The man who hurt your daddy confessed to what he did. And he was punished for it.” He didn’t say anything. In a way, he was glad the man would be punished, but in the end, no punishment would ever bring his father back. 

It was the first time he regretted his father wasn’t a wizard - his mother would always say that it didn’t matter whether a person was a wizard or a muggle, because all that mattered was if they were a good one, and his dad was the best man Aesop ever knew. But if he had been a wizard, he surely wouldn't have died, Aesop was sure of it. 

For the first time in his life, Aesop wasn’t looking forward to the colourful lights, nor the jolly wreaths, not even the rude but pretty fairies. They had no tree, Magdala baked no biscuits, nobody sang carols. He didn’t even want cocoa. He still found a few presents in their living room after he woke up on the 25th, but instead of playing with the soft stuffed Niffler, or the new set of Gobstones, he just took the new throw blanket he recognised as his mum’s knitting project, and once again curled up in dad’s spot on his parents’ bed to sleep some more. 

The one gift he wanted he knew he could never have.

—

The young boy was grateful for the change of scenery that summer. The coolness of Gwydir forest calmed him, its utter peace helping quiet down the storm inside his heart. For the first time, he wasn’t looking forward to their neighbour’s children coming back from Hogwarts in hopes they’d play with him, despite being quite older than him. He mostly just wanted to be alone. 

But then he met Ashley.

One sunny July day, Apollonia Chadwick, whom he called ‘aunt Chaddy’ even though she wasn’t a sister of either of his parents, came back from the small village nearby followed by a girl, who looked to be the same age as Aesop. She had straw coloured hair and azure eyes that seemed to be sparkling a little bit. She and Aesop shook hands awkwardly, and she offered to show him around, share with him the secret adventuring spots she discovered in the woods.

And Aesop was sad to go home when summer ended, as he didn’t want to leave the girl who became his best friend over the two months.

Ashley lost her mum a year ago, mum and a baby sister, and the two children bonded over their shared grief in losing someone so vital in their lives. They spent the summer running through the woods together and having their own little adventures. Aesop found a true friend in her, found himself gravitating to the young girl who, even under the weight of her sorrow, was one of the most brilliant, and contagiously energetic people he ever met.

“At least the bad man was punished, isn’t that good?” she’d ask one afternoon as they sat in his aunt’s little garden, snacking on fresh strawberries Magdala brought them earlier. “I suppose…” Aesop would reply, not really knowing whether it was good or bad. 

“I think people should be punished when they’re bad… aren’t you punished after you’ve been bad?” 

“I am. Mum sits me down and asks me to think about why what I did was wrong.” “And bad people should be too. They especially.” “That’s what dad did, you know,” Aesop confessed. He didn’t truly speak about his father that often, not even with mum. It was just too painful a topic. It was a little easier with Ashley. He actually felt a little better, talking about it. “He’d catch bad people so that they’d be punished, and he’d protect the good.” “I want to do that too when I grow up,” she grinned at him proudly, standing up to further prove her point. “You want to be a policewoman?”

“A poli-what? Oh, right, that’s the Muggle job!” Ashley said, and Aesop flushed. He forgot Ashley was from an entirely wizard family. “No, I want to be an Auror. So yes, pol-... pole-... whatever you said, but with magic. Don’t you?” “D-don’t I what?”

“Don’t you want to be an Auror? Catch bad people and help the good. Like your dad, except using spells.” “I-... I don’t know. Maybe?” Aesop thought. It never once occurred to him. He was too little, he’d have to wait and grow up before he could become an Auror. Would he want to become an Auror? He admired his father, and thought the world of him for trying to make the world a safer place. Would he be proud of Aesop, if he decided to follow in his footsteps, though in magical settings? Aesop liked helping people, it wouldn’t be exactly a bad thing to have helping and protecting people as his job.

“You have to be really tough to be an Auror though, I don’t know if you have what it takes…” “Of course I have what it takes to be an Auror!” Aesop looked at her offendedly, finding the girl’s eyes sparkling more than he ever saw them. He didn’t even know why he was so offended, seeing as he only just now found out that he could one day do what his pa did, but he didn’t like the tone of Ashley’s voice, like she didn't believe that Aesop was tough enough to be able to be a wizarding world policeman.

“Oh, really?” she asked with a wild grin, her voice still awfully smug and teasing. The lad puffed out his chest: “I have what it takes to be a brilliant Auror. Just wait, you’ll see!”

—

He and Ashley would write each other letters throughout the entire year, with the help from their respective parents of course. The art of masterfully wielding a quill still escaped Aesop somewhat, but his reading was getting better and better. And when possible, Ahsley’s father would bring her round to spend the weekend over at Sharps’. 

“This place is huge!” she’d say the first time she visited, eyes as big as saucers. Aesop was giving her a tour while his mum and Mr Montgomery talked in the dining room over a cup of tea. “ I mean, our house isn’t small, but this place is really something else, like you could live here with your grandparents and there’d still be enough room. Do you really live here with your mum alone?” Aesop only shrugged. He didn’t have grandparents. That is, he knew his mum did have a mum and a dad of her own, but they never visited or spoke much. Mum said her parents didn’t agree on her marrying a Muggle as a pure-blood witch. Dad didn’t talk about his parents much as they both passed before Aesop was born. He only told the young lad that Grandma Sharp was kind, and knew how to make the perfect risotto, and that Grandpa Sharp used to be a gamekeeper, but that was about it. It was a large house, but only now Aesop realised just how large it truly was. And how empty.

“Yes. I was supposed to have a baby brother or sister, though.”

Ashley thought for a little bit.

“I was supposed to have a little sister too, I told you that. I was looking forward to her too, even though I didn’t know if it would be a boy or girl back then, dad only told me after… I was just happy someone would play with me,,” Aesop wanted to hug his friend. He knew she was very strong, but whenever she spoke about her family, the light in her eyes would dim. He hated seeing it. “Maybe we could pretend that you’re my brother and I’m your sister,” she offered, a sparkle returning to those eyes momentarily, and her voice was slightly hopeful.

Aesop didn’t understand how that’d be possible, considering they lived hundreds of miles away from each other, and his mother and her dad weren’t particularly close. But as he watched his friend’s growingly excited expression, saw the gleam in her pretty eyes, he found himself smiling back at her: “Alright. I’ll be your brother.”

“Then it’s a deal!”

— 

Aesop was surprised to find a colourful garland adorning his windowsill one morning in December. Snow descended softly upon the prickly fir needles and the elegant, silky red ribbons. Soon, the scent of vanilla and cinnamon filled his nostrils and he sighed. In a way, he was happy, he missed the lovely smell and the pretty colours, but deep within his chest a dull ache remained. In just his nightshirt, he made his way to the kitchen, where his mother was only just pulling out a tray of gingerbread men out of the oven. 

“Hello, my sweet,” she’d chirp at him with a small smile, quickly followed by a good-natured click of her tongue. “Go get changed, Aesop, it’s quite chilly here. We wouldn’t want you catching a cold and spending Christmas troubled by fever, would we? You can have a few of these after they've cooled down a little.” 

And so the young boy changed into his warm clothes, and once more joined his mother downstairs. They shared a breakfast of hot chocolate and the slightly cooled down biscuits. “Mr Pruitt was so nice to bring a Christmas tree for us. It’s outside in the garden, we can bring it in and decorate it later,” Magdala spoke between sips. Aesop knew her cheerful voice was not entirely real, knew that she was hurting just like him. 

But she was trying so hard for him. It was only fair that he tried for her too.

So he smiled at her softly: “Alright, mum.” 

The Christmas they had wasn’t the same as it was when dad was there. There was no dancing, and he and mum sang their carols quietly. Aunt Chaddy came around, bringing Ashley with her for a few days. The house smelled heavenly, and Magdala made hot cocoa for Aesop and Ashley whenever they asked for it. The two children helped her and Chaddy bake more cookies, cook meals and even offered to cut some wood for the hearth. Unsurprisingly however, his mother wasn’t too keen on letting six year olds swing around with an axe. Still, in a way, it was a nice time. They walked around the village, admired the lights, and Aesop fed some more gingerbread crumbs to the fairies, though only one of them gave him a smile instead of sticking its tongue out at him or making a rude face. 

He and Ashley played every day she was there, and Aesop was actually excited to show her his own adventuring spots. She’d call Aesop her brother when nobody could hear, like it was some big secret nobody could ever find out about. It amused him greatly, but he had to admit that he truly loved Ashley as if she was a part of his family, as if she really was his sister.

Chaddy stayed with them the entire holidays, and Aesop was actually glad to hear her and mum talking late into the night all the way from his bedroom. It’s not that he wasn’t happy to be with just his mum, but ever since Ashley pointed out just how large the house truly was, Aesop was unable to ignore it. The sound of his mum’s and aunt’s muted laughter was infinitely better than the complete silence.

And on Christmas morning  he’d descend the stairs to find a pile of presents under their pretty fir tree. He patiently waited for his mother and aunt to wake and come downstairs as well before opening them, though, save for a single one he recognised as a gift from Ashley. The girl sent him a very obviously self-made Auror badge (which actually spelled AUЯOЯ), but it brought a huge grin to Aesop’s face anyway. Having talked more about it, the lad decided that he really did want to become one, so that he could protect people and catch the bad guys. Like his dad. 

He showed it to his mother after she finally joined him in the living room, but the dark-eyed woman didn’t comment on it, only smiled at him a little sadly. 

The next Christmases were quite similar, except they’d go to his aunt’s house to celebrate them, so that Aesop and Ashley could play more. His mother was more than happy to do so, as taking care of the two young troublemakers left her with nearly no time to think about Theodore. The house wasn’t quiet when the little rascals were around and she was glad for it. As years flew by, the children’s adventures became more daring, and they owled another every other day they weren’t together, and would openly address each other as brother and sister in their letters, now written solely by them. 

Aesop helped his mother as best as he could, he aided in decorating the tree, and he tried his best to wrap the few small presents he had for his family and friends as nicely as he could.

And even though their Christmases were lovely, filled with delicious food and drinks, illuminated by bright, colourful lights, and full of the sounds of jingle bells and faintly sung carols, there was just something missing. The ‘spark’ that the holidays once held was gone. The memory of a world bathed in golden light, sparkling in its brilliance served as a constant reminder to Aesop that he’ll never again hear the sound of his father’s laughter as he spins his mother around the living room and kitchen, or tells another horrible joke. 

And as he and Ashley began attending Hogwarts, he made peace with the fact that Christmas will never again be his happiest time of the year. He was still fond of it, though, and he always looked forward to going home for the break, to enjoy his mother’s delectable turkey and sugary Christmas pudding. The thought of staying at the castle for Christmas he didn’t even dare to entertain, as much as he loved Hogwarts in winter, draped in its elegant snowy coat.

—

And then, only a few years after he finished his education and set out to finally begin his career as an Auror along with Ashley, his present for Christmas left him gaping at his mother.

“W-what do you mean you ‘wrote the house on me’?” the Auror in training stuttered. “I meant what I said, child. I have grown rather tired of the two of you sneaking about like I don’t know Dinah comes by to spend the night,” Magdala Sharp replied, calmly sipping on her tea. Dinah Hecat wasn’t one to blush easily, but even she wasn’t completely resistant to the Sharp matron’s unabashed words. The two of them had been seeing each other romantically for several years now, their relationship having begun when both of them were still at school. Dinah was his match in both wit and power, and Aesop was absolutely mad for her. 

“I have simply decided that it’s time to get myself something a little smaller, and leave the house in your care. I was sure you’d jump at the prospect of more privacy…” “Well, yes, but not by kicking you out of your own home!” “Nobody is kicking me out, dear,” His mother let out a long-suffering sigh, as if Aesop was the one who was behaving foolishly now. He wasn’t, was he? His mother just told him she’d be leaving the house where she spent half of her life, and leaving him there. “I am going on my own… I know you were looking into flats and houses for rent, I understand you want to become independent, and I wish you well in the endeavour. But this house truly is too big for one person, especially an ageing person like myself.” Aesop however heard what his mother didn’t say. She didn’t want to stay all alone in the house, husband dead and son someplace far. The emptiness would eat her alive. Aesop, however, could live here with Dinah. “This house holds many happy old memories,” she said then, as if reading his thoughts, “It’s time for it to get some new ones too, I think. Besides, it’s not like I’ll be at the other end of the world, the flat I bought is quite a short way from here.”

Aesop blinked. “You already BOUGHT a flat? How- When-”

“Oh dear, you really should grow more observant, you won’t be a very good Auror like this…”

—

The next several years were possibly the happiest in Aesop's life since his father passed. He became a fully fledged Auror, and he was making a name for himself as one of the most capable ones too. He was ecstatic to find that Ashley would be his partner - they did it. They made their childhood dream too. Ashley actually completed the recruitment programme before Aesop, and never failed to find an opportunity to tease him about it. And while everyone else saw her laughing at his morose face after she poked at his pride some more, nobody saw her embracing him with the words ‘Congratulations, brother.’

Dinah meanwhile was climbing the ministry ladder with all the elegance and ease of a cat. She truly did move in with him shortly after the house fully became Aesop’s own, and they were rather successful in learning to run their little household. The couple grew fairly proficient in balancing their jobs, their home life and their social life. Aesop met up with his buddies and colleagues at a pub every now and then, and Dinah would occasionally spend an evening out with her friends. Ashley would come around often for a free dinner. That is, she'd pay for the dinner by checking up on the plants the couple had in their garden - neither Dinah nor Aesop have ever been overly proficient in Herbology. 

And during Christmas time, the house was lively as Aesop never saw it. Friends gathered over to spend the holidays with the young couple, his mother and her family would come for lunch on the 26th, and they’d go out to visit people as well. And then, when the two of them were finally left to their own devices, Dinah would convince her sweetheart to leave the mess and dirty dishes the way they were, and follow her to bed - he still had a present to unwrap, after all. 

For a few years, Aesop felt like the ‘spark’ was back. He looked forward to Christmas. He looked forward to taking some time away from work, to taking his sweetheart shopping in London, to eating out in fine restaurants when they didn't want to cook. He looked forward to seeing her when he woke up, and he looked forward to seeing her when he came home from work.

Life was good.

—

And then it wasn't.

Aesop had been worried Dinah was going to give him the boot for some time now, but when she finally did… He found himself torn. He still loved her a lot, and he was feeling utterly miserable after she told him that she didn’t want to be his sweetheart anymore. However, a part of him deep down knew that she was right. 

They barely had any time for each other these days… No, that was a lie. They both worked as much as they worked two years ago, maybe even less, actually. The problem was that they stopped making time for the two of them. Dinah didn’t indicate that she’d like him to ask for her hand in marriage, and Aesop never did so. Instead of going home after work, Aesop would pop into a pub with a colleague or two, and Di would spend long extra hours in her job doing extra research nobody asked her for. When one of them came home, the other was usually long asleep. They still kissed and they made love, and that was lovely, but other than that… other than that it felt like they were roommates, rather than a couple. The picnic basket they readied on the kitchen counter in May still stood there in September, because there simply ‘wasn’t the time’. 

Both of them cried the evening they decided to separate, and they were both nearly ready to take it all back after that first night. The Auror had no idea how the pair of them managed to resist the want to just go back to how things were. It seemed so much better than the anxiety of the unknown. He himself didn’t know what adult life was like without Dinah, and it scared him. 

Yet, Aesop insisted on being a gentleman and let the young woman have the bed while he slept on the couch until she found a new place to live. He actually even offered to vacate the house entirely, but Dinah insisted she was not going to throw him out of his own home. 

Several nights in the row, the Auror was woken by his now former lover in the middle of the night to find her unsure and doubtful. Both of them knew that they craved the comfort of one another’s arms, but at the same time realised that stepping onto the sinking ship would mean to drown.

It got a little easier after she finally found her own flat. 

He made her keep the key -  she was still one of his closest friends, his home was hers whenever she needed it. It was the longest time they hadn’t seen each other. Ashley was there for Aesop during the entire time, offering kind glances and comforting touches, but also horrible jokes that made her partner roll his eyes. The few times he met Dinah during this time, be it passing one another at the Ministry, or accidentally bumping into each other at Diagon Alley, were a little awkward, but the pair always gave each other a smile and a soft greeting, and that was that. It wasn’t until the Christmas ball of the Ministry of Magic did they truly talk to one another again, but surrounded by so many other people, some friends included, things got less and less awkward, and they started meeting up more after that, this time only as friends.

Aesop spent the holidays on his own that year. There was no large feast, no turkey nor Christmas pudding, but it was alright. Aesop had himself a light, solitary dinner at his undecorated home, followed by a few drinks, and he was asleep before midnight. He stopped by his mum’s flat the next day, and also Ashley’s home. It was the first year she and her girlfriend spent the holidays together, and Aesop had the rare opportunity to tease his best friend about being a sappy, sentimental sod. When Christina wasn’t looking, Ash gave him the two finger salute, making him snort with amusement.

Aesop actually felt quite alright to spend some time on his own, his previous relationship having left him quite unwilling to give his heart to somebody else so soon. However, that didn’t mean his bed was always empty. After all, he was young and not entirely bad looking, and an Auror on top of that. There was always a pretty young lady wanting to make his acquaintance a bit more intimately, and who was he to say no to that. Ashley didn’t really comment on his short, little affairs, only occasionally inquiring whether he didn’t think to give at least one of those girls more of a chance to get to know him.

“The ginger one, with the wide-set hips, she seemed nice.” “She was very nice.” “Will you meet her again?” “Possibly. London is not that big, it’d be strange if I never saw her in my life again.”

Ashley rolled her eyes and huffed. 

—

The young Auror was called into St Mungo’s one day to find a woman he almost didn’t recognise at first. But as he looked into her brown eyes, took in her hairstyle and the features of her wrinkled face, there was no doubt.

“What the bloody hell happened, Di?” he breathed out, sinking to sit on the bed at her feet. The beautiful brunette, a year his junior, looked like an older lady of at least 60 years, her once chestnut hair dark grey, her once smooth cheeks riddled by lines, her hands, once so soft and youthful, were ones of an old woman.

He held his past lover to him as she cried her poor eyes out, and when the time came for her to be dismissed from the wizarding hospital, there was absolutely no doubt as to where Dinah would be staying for the foreseeable future. Aesop just took it as a done thing, and she didn’t argue. She refused to let him stay home with her the whole day, however.

“I am old, Aesop, not an invalid. I can take care of myself for a few hours.” “I don’t want you to be alone…” Dinah would be quiet for the longest time.

“Did you… did you tell your mother?”

“I did.” “Then I doubt I’ll be alone for long…” She was right of course. Magdala Sharp arrived mere minutes before he left for the office, to be there for her former potential daughter-in-law. The two of them always got on like a house on fire, and were a little too willing to poke fun at him together. Today, however, Aesop was happy about it, as his mother’s words finally brought a genuine smile to the Unspeakable’s face.

“He’s coddling you and refuses to leave you alone, isn’t he. As you can see, dear, we’re two grown up ladies here, you may be on your merry way.”

He knew his mother was long gone when he came back, despite the fact that he left work earlier than he had in months. Dinah was curled up on the sofa, reading one of his silly Muggle detective books, an empty teacup on the little table. Noiselessly, Aesop kneeled next to the sofa and laid a hand upon her knee, just holding it there. Neither of them spoke for a long time, but then.

“You know you can stay here, right? Stay with me, I’d take care of you. I’d marry you too, gladly. It doesn’t matter what you look like, I still think you’re beautiful,” Aesop said quietly, bringing his friend’s hand to his lips for emphasis. Dinah merely clicked her tongue at him: “Stop being an idiot, Aesop. Just because you haven’t been seriously seeing anyone for a while doesn’t matter that your dreams changed. I know you want someone to start a family with, have children… I didn’t want them before, but now I most likely can’t even have them. I don’t want you to tie yourself to me out of pity, or, Merlin forbid, because you feel like you have to. I am not your responsibility and you don’t owe me anything - I knew all sorts of things could happen when I took the job, and it was a risk I took..”

“I want to help you. Not out of pity, but because I love you.” “And I love you, dear. But there’s nothing you can do. I am grateful to you for letting me stay. I am not going to lie and insult your intelligence by saying I’m not glad not to have to bear this on my own, but do you know me as someone who wouldn’t get back up after having been put down?”

“No…” Aesop sighed, “no, not you.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll get used to it. And you - you will find a lovely girl and make her your wife. And I’ll be there to poke fun at you in front of her and the children you’ll have with her.”

“Sounds… sounds great.”

—

Dinah stayed with him for a few weeks, and Aesop was amazed how well they still worked together, though they were no longer lovers. Aesop conjured up a large, comfortable bed for her in one of the empty rooms upstairs, he cooked for the two of them, or just brought home some sandwiches from this and that bakehouse he currently frequented, while Dinah stayed home and made sure he only ever walked around in clean clothes, and that the house was tidy. They’d spend their evenings in the living room, reading and sharing a few glasses of something strong, before retiring to their own rooms to sleep.

Aesop was quite sad to see her go, but the former Unspeakable insisted that despite her ailment, she just wasn’t able to stop working and enjoy the ministry pension just yet. Once more, Aesop was alone in the large house. Dinah still visited, and so did Ashley and her now fiancée, as well as some other friends, not to mention his mother, but at night Aesop was all alone, falling asleep to the empty house settling. 

—

And then he met Mary. 

She started out as one of his one-night acquaintances, but soon it became obvious she was not going to let the Auror go so easily. After a few more meetings and a few more nights spent with her, Aesop decided that she was a pretty alright woman, and he supposed that it wasn’t exactly a punishment to be with her. He didn’t really court her the way he courted Dinah, he wasn’t being terribly romantic. He did take her out to eat, and he got her the occasional flower, and that was enough for her. She warmed his bed proficiently, if not his heart, and he didn’t mind letting her tag along with him whenever he attended some sort of formal gathering.

It was quite an on-and-off relationship, though. There were some evenings Aesop wanted to spend by himself and she was rather quick to take offence. He never tried to stop her from walking out on him, but found himself sending a box of chocolates or a bouquet of flowers to her work the very next week, which was enough to placate her and get her back into his arms. 

He didn’t want to spend Christmas with her either, which was something she took rather harshly every year. It was nothing against her, really, she was pleasant enough, but after the several beautiful years he spent with Dinah, he knew he’d be comparing the two ladies, and neither of them deserved that. It wasn't even like he was doing anything special either. He sent a few presents to friends and colleagues, a bottle of some strong liquor to his boss, and several cards. Like the past few years, he spent Christmas Eve by himself, eating a simple dinner and drinking a glass (or four) of Firewhisky, turned in early, then visited his mum and friends on Christmas day. And then, on the 27th, he’d send Mary some lovely present, a piece of jewellery or a smart accessory, something nice that’d convince her to forgive him, and spend New Years’ with him.

It wasn’t love, but it was alright.

—

And then his entire life changed.

On a cold, dreary day in January, he and Ashley found themselves in a harbour in Scarborough, and neither of them knew that they wouldn't be leaving. Not on their own at least. 

Aesop cried rivers at the funeral, his throat sore from all the uncontrollable sobbing he’d done in the previous days. He wasn’t even able to stand and honour the girl who had been his best friend for almost twenty five fucking years. His sister. He wasn’t able to look her wife and son in the eye. Christina touched his shoulder, she tried to embrace him, tried telling him that she doesn’t hold it against him. That she knew he did his best.

But he had not.

He left Ashley there by herself, chasing after their suspect when he should’ve stayed glued to her bloody side. He should’ve protected her. He should’ve saved her. It was so unfair, if anything, he should’ve been the one to die. Ashley had a wife, and she had a child, she should’ve lived, she should’ve remained around to be there for her family. And because of Aesop, she was lying in her coffin, looking like a lot of things, but definitely not asleep. She looked dead. Her cheeks sunk in, and her skin was ashen. Her eyes were closed. She was dead, and Aesop knew it was his fault.

It served him right to be in so much physical pain he couldn’t even sleep.

They wheeled him straight back to St Mungo’s after the funeral.

People came by to see him. His mother. Dinah. Abraham Ronen too, whom Aesop hasnt seen for a few years at that point. A few colleagues, and even his boss. Mary. She cried, sitting by his side. She wasn’t the only one who cried as they sat next to him. Mother alone cried harder than he ever really saw her. She cried harder than she cried at dad’s funeral, that he knew. Mary’s crying had been the most uncomfortable one, though. He asked the healers not to let her in again.

And when she’d show up at his house after they released him weak and limping, seeing him off with a ‘We apologise, Mr Sharp, but we cannot heal your leg, not at the moment at least’, Aesop didn’t open the door for her. She pleaded, and cried, and begged, and threatened, and Aesop didn’t even wheel himself to that bloody front door. He actually thought he was doing her a service. What would she even do with him? He was in so much pain, he couldn’t even… One of the reasons he liked having her in his life was that he liked having her in his bed, and he was pretty fucking certain that was something he was unable to do now, maybe not ever again. 

After some time, she stopped coming.

And he started drinking. 

It didn’t matter what it was, as long as it packed a punch. He’d drink until he passed out, actually preferring the godawful hangover the next day, as it distracted him from the pain in his leg, in his face… In his broken fucking heart. He was filthy, drunk and half mad when he made an attempt at his life. Dinah’s wrath at his actions descended upon him, and while she screamed at him, furious and fuming and worried to death, in Aesop’s eyes she was an angel on Earth. 

He quit drinking, and he finally started using his two bloody feet to get around. It wasn’t easy, his leg still hurt like hell, but Aesop decided to take it as a challenge. Ashley would kick his sorry arse if he never even made an attempt to walk again. Ashley would give him verbal thrashing he’d remember until his dying moment. What would she think if she met looking like he did before Dinah made the decision to pester him until he got better. She wouldn’t even want to be his friend, and definitely not his sister. 

Every day he worked so that he could at least pretend that he was someone Ash would waste her time with.

Christina wrote him a card and Aesop considered throwing it out without even reading it, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. He was ashamed of it, but he was happy Christina and the lad would be leaving to stay with her family in America. He did not celebrate Christmas that year. He actually wanted to drink himself under the table and forget there even was something like Christmas. Dinah was watching him like a hawk though, and actually convinced Abraham and his mother to babysit him whenever she didn’t have time to do it herself, and he was never allowed more than two glasses. He complained about being treated like a child, and while Abraham appeared genuinely apologetic, mum and Dinah would bicker back that he truly was acting like an irresponsible teenager. 

However, Aesop was glad in a way. They cared. Despite all that happened, they didn’t give up on him. Aesop wouldn’t have blamed them if they did. But no, one of them was always there with him, willingly listening to his grumpy comments and his self-deprecating tirades. Even though Dinah had her own worries, her own pains, she was absolutely ready to apparate to his house every single day if it meant saving him from drowning himself in booze. So he promised to be good. Abraham was worse, on some days he actually made him laugh. The first time it happened, the sound felt almost unknown to Aesop’s ears. It was most curious…

He asked to be left alone for the holidays, but to no avail. His mother had him stay at her flat. She didn’t decorate, there was no tree, nor Christmas cookies. No turkey and no carols. Aesop felt both glad and sad. Glad not to have been reminded that only a year prior, he was over at Ahsley’s and watched her son open the gift he brought him. However, he was also sad because he knew his mum liked Christmas a lot, and chose not to indulge in them this year on his behalf. Unlike him, she was able to move on. She found her ‘spark’ again. Aesop envied her.

He didn’t even buy her a present. He didn’t buy presents for anybody. And yet he got one from her and from his friends as well. He didn’t open them until next year’s Christmas.

— 

It was 1882, and he was the new potions professor at Hogwarts. He walked using his cane, but there were days he felt stable enough to leave it in his rooms. He wouldn’t have thought it possible, but there being dozens of trouble-stirring teenagers around him at nearly all times actually helped him. He didn’t have time to think about Ashley, not to mention her family, when he was busy making sure the students didn't accidentally off themselves inside or outside his class. He suddenly understood why his mother was always so happy to have Ashley there with him. He was kept busy, and he was glad. And whenever he had some time to spare, he spent it deep in the library books, trying to come up with the cure for his leg. His childhood friend would want him to be healthy, Aesop knew that now. Before he realised it, the first snowflakes began falling outside the castle’s windows, and Christmas decorations started appearing throughout the halls.

Has Hogwarts been this festive when he was a student? He could hardly remember. It was difficult to be bitter when the entire school seemed to be sparkling, when the house elves were seemingly intent on making him not fit into his trousers and shirts before the year was done, and when his colleagues were actually being rather brilliant. Well, the Herbology teacher was quite sour. And he decided fairly early on that Headmaster Black was an utter tosser, an opinion that seemed to be shared by the majority of staff. Come to think of it, he was already a tosser when Aesop attended Hogwarts. Di confirmed it for him.

He was glad Dinah was there. And he felt like she was glad he was there too.

The deputy headmistress, he actually reckoned he met at the ministry once, and he absolutely remembered Binns from when he was a student himself, but otherwise it was an entirely new group of people for the former Auror. He got on with Bai Howin quite well, and Chiyo Kogawa, while a little over-obsessed with Quidditch proved to be a quite good conversation partner as well. The magical theory teacher, Eleazar Fig, actually surprised him with his knowledge of the inner goings at the ministry, even offered some information Aesop himself didn’t know, and they’d occasionally share a pint together at the Three Broomsticks.

The holidays were alright. Aesop wasn’t as jolly as he used to be before, but he was able to enjoy himself. He opened his presents from the previous year, and actually sent out his own, only to the few friends he had left. And mother, obviously. When a few colleagues invited him out to the Three Broomsticks, he politely turned them down though. His Christmas Eve was spent in Dinah’s company and the warmth of Firewhiskey. Dinah let him have three glasses now. He’d sometimes indulge more on his own, but she didn’t need to know that. However, as Aesop knew her, she absolutely knew it.

“A little peaky aren’t we today? I certainly hope you’re not coming down with something, dear,” she’d comment on the mornings when it was clearly visible he’d had more than three glasses the previous evening. Otherwise, though, she let him off the hook. He didn’t teach while drunk, and he didn’t cause any further scenes. He also didn’t drink every single day.

The next year, Aesop began exercising more. Despite the many many stairs in the castle, there was a bit more meat on him than he was used to. He discussed with the nurse some exercises safe for him, and was glad to see his metabolism hadn’t turned to complete bollocks over the past few years. He wasn’t as chiselled as he used to be as an Auror, more sinewy and slim now, but he felt strong enough. Despite his bad leg, he felt quite content in his body. He kept himself busy, and more or less healthy, and that was enough of a win for him And it got even better when Abraham joined them.

Aesop found a strange sort of mundane, everyday peace. He’d still have nightmares often during the night, and some days were just plain  fucking bad. His leg still hurt like hell, and especially so when he was cold. But he had a routine now, and it kept him functional.

He stopped rejecting his colleagues when they invited him out to the pub, and found the private room there truly wasn’t a bad place to spend an evening in. Especially in his friends’ company.

Most teachers met there on Christmas Eve, talking quietly among themselves, sharing a little toast and wishes for an even better next year. Abraham and Eleazar would depart from them first, both men eager to go home to their wives, then more and more people would retire to either go back to Hogwarts, or apparate to wherever they lived. Moon and Howin would be there the longest, and Moon seldom left on his own two legs. In the end, it’d be just Aesop and Dinah. They’d exchange one last ‘Happy Christmas’ and tip back their drinks, before leaning against one another in pursuit of the nearest Floo flame. It reminded Aesop how it used to be before all this, when both of them were young, when they were healthy.

In his mind, the image of two young, giggling, drunk people formed. They used to be so carefree, so easy to smile and laugh. They’d snog each other senseless, uncaring that they were barely able to keep standing without losing their balance. It felt like a lifetime ago.

Before they’d depart for their own chambers, Aesop would give Dinah a quick, platonic peck on the lips, and she never commented on it. 

His hangover the next day forced him to not even go to the Great Hall to eat, and not even Wiggenweld seemed able to fix the damage. He’d only ever emerge to use the loo, and he wouldn’t even bother changing out of his sleeping clothes. The potions master unwrapped his gifts, and hoped the ones he got for his friends and mother would be liked. Like everything else, Christmas became a routine. It wasn’t bad, and there were definitely bright moments, but the one thing missing, that ‘spark’ the holiday held for him when he was a small boy was gone. And Aesop was convinced that it would stay that way. He didn’t mind all that much. Life was alright.

—

Another change happened though…

The change came in the form of a young woman, a Ravenclaw that started her education in Hogwarts as a Fifth-year. Most unusual. But then again, the entire year turned out to be most unusual. 

If Aesop never had to attend another funeral, it would be too soon.

He knew this thought was silly. Everyone dies at some point. A thought that both frightened and strangely comforted Aesop. Eleazar hadn’t been a young man, and Aesop knew the teacher had been heart-broken over his wife’s death, understandably so. And yet, as he stood there in his dark robes and watched his colleague being lowered into the ground in a coffin, he allowed himself a few tears. Eleazar Fig was a good man, and while Aesop only just began uncovering what truly transpired between him and the Ravenclaw and whole-heartedly disagreed on several choices Fig made, the truth was that he was still far better than many people Aesop ever met. 

Fig’s protege definitely seemed to think so, as she quietly sobbed her poor eyes out. It occurred to Aesop that she maybe felt like he felt when his father died. Which was a feeling he wouldn’t wish on anyone, truly. 

He never expected how close the two of them would grow when he reached out to her.

And close they grew.

—

The very next year, the teacher was frankly surprised to find an extra present for him at the foot of his bed. He was once again miserably hungover and deeply regretting the amount of drinks he had the previous night. It was even worse than last year. Maybe he was just getting old. Next to the little parcels he recognised were from his mum, from Abe, and from Di, stood another one. It was wrapped in simple brown paper, tied up with strings, and decorated with a small twig from a pine tree and a few holly berries. Aesop had a suspicion as to who was the sender, but he struggled to believe it. 

Students didn’t often send gifts to their teachers, not even the popular ones like Mirabel or Abraham himself. And yet, it would seem Aesop was a recipient of one this year. How curious. It was only fair, he supposed, given the fact that he sent her a present as well… He still didn’t know just why he did so… except he kind of did. 

She was the first person in many years to whom he opened up, actually opened up. His colleagues knew him to a certain degree, but he was never comfortable discussing something too deep with them. He’d be careful about difficult subjects even with Dinah. And yet, here came this young woman, and he felt comfortable telling her things he hadn’t spoken of out loud for years. Or was it a decade already? Aesop didn't know. The Ravenclaw was… she was his friend. She was kind and brilliant. And she understood. She didn’t judge him, and she never once walked out on him. And he in turn supported her. He’d be there whenever he knew she felt troubled, and he was certain he was also the one she opened up to the most. It felt nice.

He grinned when he unveiled his gift. 

It was a set of inks of various colours, inks meant for drawing. Aesop showed her his little workshop, and she seemed genuinely fascinated with his interest in art. She commented on many of his pieces, and the teacher honestly felt proud to be a recipient of her praise. It was a thoughtful gift and he was grateful. He only hoped she would like the journal he bought for her. A warm emotion spread within his core, and his heart sped up a little bit, as if fearful to admit it was even there. He didn’t allow himself to dwell on the feeling too much, as it was scary and it was new. Not entirely new. But Aesop hadn’t felt it in so long, it might as well have been the first ever time. 

He didn’t stay in his chambers the whole day like he usually would.

Strengthened by a couple of Wiggenwelds and a long shower to wash the stench of booze away, he managed to make himself presentable and actually made it to the Great Hall for lunch. He still felt like shit, and he stumbled slightly more than normally, but it was worth it for him in the end.

The moment she saw him, the Ravenclaw beamed, stood up and approached him.

“Hello, sir. Happy Christmas,” she extended her right hand for him to take, and Aesop did so with a smile, shaking it softly, yet with a firm grip. “Happy Christmas, Miss. I hope my present didn’t make you uncomfortable.” She shook her head vehemently: “Of course not, sir. It's very lovely and thoughtful, and I adore the drawing you did. It’s one of my most favourite places in the castle.”

“I remember you mentioning so. I’m glad you like it. I am very grateful for the set of inks, I’ll certainly use them often. Although I implore you not to waste so much money on your potions master.”

“It’s not money wasted in my opinion, sir. If the gift made you happy, it’s money I was glad to spend…” she got quiet for a little while and so did Aesop. They looked at each other quietly for a few moments, and the professor didn’t notice his heart beating slightly faster. She finally cleared her throat: “I’m sorry, sir, I mustn’t keep you from your lunch, you are surely hungry.” She’d give him a small wave and a smile, and go back to her seat while he made his way over to the High table.

Dinah would be sitting there, definitely quite peaky. He’d give her a teasing grin, one that she wouldn’t return.

“Look at you. One would think you had a glass too many last night, Di,” he teased. 

“I feel better about how I look, now that I see you,” she bit back, making Aesop chuckle genuinely.

“Happy Christmas, Dinah.” “Happy Christmas, dear.”

—

Aesop Sharp, a former Auror and a potions master known for his quick wit, that was as sharp as his name, sat in his chair gaping like a stuffed squirrel. The young woman with whom he grew so close over the last two years looked at him nervously.

She just confessed her love for him.

Aesop’s been in love with her for months, he felt he was slowly going mad from how much he longed for her, how much he yearned to close his arms around her and kiss her silly, but he never once allowed himself to hope that she’d ever return his feelings. And yet here she was, saying those three words he was desperate to hear from her lips for so long. It felt surreal. It was Christmas Eve of 1893, and Aesop was considering pinching himself, fully expecting to wake up in his bed, alone. 

He looked deep into her eyes, searching for any hint that she wasn’t being truthful, but he found none. He stood up swiftly, startling the poor girl. His heart beat hard and fast, and he was aware of his cheeks warming up under the weight of her revelation, but he felt determined not to keep her waiting for her answer. 

“Aesop,” he blurted out instead. 

“I’m sorry?” “I-I should have asked you to call me Aesop ages ago,” he admitted, his hand moving to her soft cheek on its own accord.

“Darling girl…”

A sound made him look up. Above the two of them, a few twigs of mistletoe swirled into existence.

“There is nothing more I’d wish than to have you by my side,” he said truthfully as he gathered the young woman into his embrace. And then she kissed him, and Aesop’s brain gave out. There was nothing but her at that moment. Nothing but the feeling of her slight body against his own, nothing but her intoxicating scent, nothing but the sweetness of wine upon her lips, and underneath that was the taste of her, and Aesop knew at that moment that he was desperately addicted to it. 

And then, the world exploded into a flurry of lights and colours. Life lit up behind Aesop's eyelids, brighter than any Christmas lights he ever saw, and at that exact moment he felt it. He finally felt the spark that he felt was lost forever. It was right there, within his tender hold, and it shone, and sparkled, and it burned, warming his entire body up.

He moaned quietly into her mouth and pulled her even closer.

Her hands were in his hair and her body trembled in his hold under the weight of their emotions, and the culmination of their hidden longing. 

A tear rolled out of his closed eye and ran down his weathered cheek, and Aesop Sharp succumbed fully to the happiness that seemed to be bursting through his veins, filling him up entirely. He was home, exactly where he was supposed to be.

Aesop Sharp loved Christmas.

Hello, and thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little story, and if you did, I'll be very grateful for your feedback. You can also check this story and all of my other stories over at my AO3 ❤

[yourlakebed]

I felt completely normal before the release of the second season of Good Omens - now I will never be normal again.

This rewired my brain and I will never again be able to judge media by the same criteria as before. A whole generation of us who grew up on Merlin and BBC Sherlock (which I adore.. adored) are used to feeling like madmen, seeing some kind of queer representation in all media that was never really there, writing millions of fanfics about these pairings and believe (in fact knowing that it is completely useless) that some subtle almost non-existent hints were left there by the authors on purpose.

Queerbaiting is our legacy - the legacy of the entire queer community, who so long ago got used to feeling crazy picking up crumbs from the floor after the incessant straight feast which appeared to be the entire film industry, that we eventually gaslighted ourselves into believing that those dirty crumbs from the floor are actual bread, that it's the best that we could possibly get.

And then Neil Gaiman came along [ahaha] and fed everyone with real bread. And I was blown away by the fact that it was even possible. I'm ashamed to even admit that for the past two months I've been waking up and not a single day goes by without a few minutes of stupor from the thought: "Damn, they actually filmed this, it actually appeared on other people's screens. So I'm not a psycho, as well as 90 % of the entire fandom.. because we were right... all along... actually right!" Because once after the first season @neil-gaiman was asked here on tumblr (I actually don't know how this man manages to sleep answering all our questions), if we are crazy for seeing Good omens as a love story, to which he replied: "We wrote it as a love story, the actors played it as a love story, you see it as a love story. What more proof do you need?". This is the proof that we needed, dear Mr. Gaiman!

It's perfectly normal for some part of the fandom to disagree with this point of view, it happens, and as long as you're expressing your opinion without disparaging the opposing point of view, it's okay. But personally I haven't been happier for the last.. I think two years at least.

I've never had a comfort series before because all my favorite things are usually something like

Dark and True Detective. It seems now I do. Because even though we've already had such queer-oriented projects as What We Do in the Shadows, Our Flag Means Death, Heartstopper, Young Royals etc - this is really a completely different product category. Good Omens is a story on a whole new level, with a book basis written in 1990, where you could certainly see queer elements if you wanted to see them there, but now they are undeniable, and even with a great desire, it is no longer possible to simply close your eyes to the queerness of this story.

Now I feel like some sort of that validation-seeking little child inside of me finally got validated, and the heavy weight fell from my shoulders. It feels good, and I'm sticking by it.

[sauriansolutions]

I was going to do something more with this originally, but it's just been sitting in drafts, all lonely. I'll just stick it here so maybe somebody can enjoy it.

In which Jade swallows a cheeseburger whole, in front of Ace, Deuce, and Epel.

Using his tongue and primary jaw in combination, Jade maneuvered the cheeseburger deep inside his mouth, crushing it against the sides of his teeth and into the roof of his mouth, all the way into the back of his throat. 

When it was in position, he paused to draw in a quick breath through his nose. Then, he flicked his head back the tiniest bit. 

It would be a barely noticable movement from the outside, indistinguishable from a twitch, but it served to push the burger back far enough to trigger his swallowing reflex. 

Where most humans would have had a uvula, Jade's secondary jaws rose up out of his esophagus, stretching the back of his throat wide open. They chomped down eagerly, and, with a rushing sound in Jade's ears, dragged the morsel down towards his stomach, all in one monstrously powerful gulp. 

The feeling of his throat swelling up to accept the offering, then contracting back down again once the food had passed through, was a deeply satisfying one. 

Once he could breath again, Jade released the breath he'd taken in a pleased sigh. He licked his lips, then licked each of his fingertips, ensuring he didn't miss a crumb. 

It was at that point that he noticed all three of the underclassmen staring, with eyes so wide they looked like they might fall out of their heads. 

Jade smiled at their shocked faces. He chuckled lightly. 

"Forgive me," he all but purred. "I only had time for a light lunch today, I was practically famished."

"Jade-senpai," Deuce asked, voice unusually high, "...did you really just swallow an entire cheeseburger whole?"

"Ah... yes." Jade placed a hand on his chest and lowered his head slightly. "I'm aware that isn't the way they're meant to be eaten. I do apologize if I've shown you something unsightly."

"Oh, no! It's fine! You're fine, I... I was just, uhh... surprised?"

"Golly!" Epel blurted. "I wish I could do that!" 

The usually-shy Pomfiore freshman's eyes were sparkling, expression having morphed from dumbfoundedness to something like awe.

Ace was shaking his head. 

"I've seen Floyd do stuff like that," he said. "Dunno why I'm even surprised. You two are twins, right?"

"Yes." Jade smiled, careful not to show too many of his teeth. "Identical. Though, typically more in appearance than anything else."

"Identically weird," Ace muttered under his breath.

"Hey!" Deuce elbowed him, hard. 

"Ow! What the hell?"

"Don't call your seniors weird! It's rude!" 

"Fine, just keep your skinny elbows away from me! They're like knives! Do you sharpen them or something?"

Jade laughed, opening his hands in a plea for peace. 

"I take no offense. As merfolk attending a land school, I'm well aware that my brother and I must, at times, come off as somewhat odd."

[musette22]

The Element of Surprise

Pairing: Chris Evans x Sebastian Stan (Evanstan)

Rating: Explicit (18+ only please)

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: rough(er) sex, light degrading language, light roleplay, light Dom/sub

A/N: AKA the long awaited mustache fic (awaited by no one but me, but still). I've had that little text convo at the beginning saved in my notes app for a long time, but I never quite knew how I wanted to follow it up. I still didn’t really know where I was going with this when I finally started writing it, but I should have known it would turn into filth. I’m not sorry, except to those of you who can't abide the 'stache (even though your opinion is wrong) <3 And btw, if you're thinking 'this reads like a bad porn flick', that is entirely intentional 😌 Hope you enjoy! Comments = love <3

****

C: be there in 30

S: I'll put a beer in the freezer

C: I love you

S: I know

S: love you too

C: and seb, just

C: don't laugh ok

S: huh?

S: why would I laugh

C: you'll see

S: ?? what does that mean?

C: be there soon 😘

Sebastian huffs, leaving his phone on the couch as he heads into his kitchen and pulls open the pantry door.

He doesn’t drink enough beer to permanently keep his fridge stocked with the stuff, and while Chris does love his beer (understatement), he’s trying to cut back. Or at least not to drink on weeknights. Too much. But since tonight is Friday and they have a whole weekend ahead of them in which they’ll be doing nothing but relaxing, ordering pizza, and watching movies, Sebastian figures they can start indulging a little early. He grabs a couple of beers from the bottom shelf, sticking them in the freezer to chill, so Chris will come home to a cold beer later.

As he returns to the living room and stretches out on the couch, bag of potato chips in hand, it occurs to Sebastian just how domestic it all feels. The thought makes him smile.

He’s never been very good at domesticity, which it’s why it’s even more surprising how much he likes it, this time around. He knows he shouldn’t get too used to having Chris in his space, he does, but it’s just too nice not to want to soak it up and roll around in it every chance he gets. The prospect of Chris staying at his place for longer than just a weekend makes something warm and giddy fizz in the pit of his stomach. It’s addictive.

For the next few months, Chris will be on stage every night in his first ever Broadway play, and for the duration of its run, he’ll be staying in New York.

Officially, Chris is renting a swanky place in Tribeca.

Unofficially, he’s staying with Sebastian at his tiny SoHo apartment.

The fact that Sebastian lives in New York played at least some part in Chris’s decision to do a Broadway play this year. They were both tired of only seeing each other whenever one of them could take a few days off to visit the other (under the radar, of course). Already, Chris spending an extended period of time in New York has done their relationship a world of good.

Things are good. Easy. If he’s being honest with himself, Sebastian can’t remember the last time he felt so content.

Since coming to New York, Chris has been going to rehearsals every weekday. Sebastian has sometime off in between projects, and he’s set to attend the premiere of Lobby Hero this Monday – ostensibly as an interested co-star, secretly in the capacity of supportive boyfriend. He can’t wait to see Chris shine on stage. Chris is nervous as hell, to the point where he’s wondered if blowing the whole thing off wouldn’t be better than letting everyone down, but there’s no doubt in Sebastian’s mind that he’ll knock it out of the park. Chris is a lot better than he gives himself credit for.

When a car door slams outside his apartment, Sebastian sits up, brushing the crumbs off his sweater – a soft, light blue one that Chris says brings out his eyes. When he darts a look out the window, Chris’s cab is just driving off. The man himself is keeping his head down, so all Sebastian can see is the top of the baseball cap he’s wearing.

Curious now, Sebastian gets up to greet Chris. Less than a minute later, the door to Sebastian’s apartment opens, Chris walks in, looks up, and –

Sebastian chokes on air.

The sound that leaves him is one he’s never heard himself make before; something high and squeaky and extremely embarrassing.

“Don’t,” Chris says instantly, a warning in his voice.

Sebastian gapes at him.

“You have a mustache,” he says faintly, once he’s remembered how to talk.

“Yep.” Chris lifts a hand to his face, fiddling with said mustache. “It’s for the role.”

Distantly, Sebastian registers he sounds a little off, and that’s when he finally notices the hint of apprehension in Chris’s eyes. Just the smallest glint of poorly concealed uncertainty.

Chris is worried, Sebastian realizes with a start.

Worried that Sebastian will laugh at him. That Sebastian might not find him attractive anymore.

Well. No need to worry about that, apparently.

Because for some unholy reason, that thing on Chris’s upper lip – big and bushy and only about half an inch on either side removed from being a handlebar mustache – is currently making Sebastian want to climb him like a fucking tree.

Not that he doesn’t normally want to do that, but urge is suddenly more intense than usual. By about three hundred and twelve percent.

“You look…”

“Ridiculous?” Chris supplies, self-deprecating as always. “Like my dad? A 70s porn star?”

“You look hot.” Sebastian doesn’t quite mean to blurt it out like that, but he does anyway. And. Well. That’s out there now.

Chris’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “I – what?”

“Fuck,” Sebastian breathes. He runs a shaky hand through his short hair, trying to gather his thoughts. “Look, I don’t know what this says about me, but uh. I am like, really fucking attracted to you right now. Even more than usual, I mean.”

For a long moment, Chris looks at him as if he’s crazy, or maybe like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, but once it becomes clear that Sebastian isn’t joking (if only he were), Chris’s expression turns into one of tentative amusement.

“You’re serious,” he says, taking a step closer. Keeping his eyes fixed on Sebastian’s face, he carefully runs his thumb and forefinger over the mustache in a gesture that kind of makes him look like he’s up to no good. “You like it?”

Sebastian swallows. “Uh-huh.”

“Didn’t know you had a thing for guys with mustaches.”

“Neither did I.” Sebastian takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I think it might even just be you.”

“Oh, really?” Chris asks, some of his usual cheek returning now that he realizes he isn’t going to get laughed at. Far from it, in fact. “Huh. What do you like about it?”

“Um,” Sebastian says, swallowing as Chris steps closer. Oh Christ, it’s even worse up close. Or better, depending how you look at it. And Sebastian is looking at it. Can’t tear his eyes away from it, actually. “It. Uh - it makes you look…”

Several words flit, unbidden, through Sebastian’s mind, each one worse than the last. Macho. Authoritative. Mean.

“…good,” he finishes lamely.

Worryingly, Chris’s smile grows into a full-blown grin, and Sebastian’s skin erupts into goosebumps.

Oh, no. Sometimes Sebastian really wishes Chris didn’t know him as well as he does.

Though when Chris takes off his baseball cap, tossing it onto the hallway table, Sebastian hisses. “Ah, okay. The hair is kinda bad.”

Chris snorts, running his fingers through the spiky strands. “Right? I look like an asshole.”

“Little bit.”

Chris gives him a calculating look. “So… does that mean the effect is ruined?”

Sebastian takes a moment to consider this. “I mean, it’s objectively bad, but…” he trails off. Ugh, he really should be used to this by now, but on some level Sebastian still can’t believe that Chris can make literally any look work for him. So annoying. “…no. Not ruined. Sadly.”

Reassured, Chris slowly starts to advance on him. With every step that Chris takes forward, Sebastian takes one back, until his heels hit the wall of his hallway. He holds his breath, feeling like a bunny rabbit about to be eaten by a wolf, though presumably a little more turned on than said bunny rabbit would be at the prospect.

Stopping right in front of him, Chris leans in, placing his hands against the wall on either side of Sebastian’s shoulders.

“Hey, good lookin’,” Chris says, his breath ghosting Sebastian’s left ear. Sebastian shivers with his entire body – something which doesn’t escape Chris’s notice, and makes the grin turn into a smirk. “You come here often?”

Despite how turned on he’s rapidly getting, Sebastian snorts. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

Chris hums. “Funny how I haven’t seen you here before, then.”

“I have been saying you should get an eye test. You’ve been squinting a lot more lately.”

“Seb,” Chris huffs, fighting a smile. “C’mon, I’m tryin’ something here.”

“Right, sorry.” Sebastian clears his throat. “I, uh. I haven’t seen you before either.” Licking his lips, he adds, “Would’ve noticed if I had.”

“You would, huh? And why’s that?”

“Well, see…” Sebastian’s eyes drop to Chris’s mouth. Specifically, his upper lip situation. “It’s the mustache. Kinda hard to miss.”

Chris raises one eyebrow. “You know what else is hard?” he asks lewdly, rolling his hips.

Sebastian can’t stop himself – he lets out a helpless peal of laughter, throwing his head back and making it collide with the wall. He barely notices it, because the next thing he knows, Chris is on him, kissing up his throat and oh hello, okay, that feels weird. Good, but weird. He can’t even say why exactly it feels weird, since Chris’s beard used to tickle too, but somehow, when it’s just the ‘stache without the rest of it, it tickles more than it used to. Feels way more bristly like this.

Under Chris demanding mouth, Sebastian’s laugh morphs into a moan, and he slides down the wall a fraction, pressing into Chris and baring his neck a little further. Chris’s teeth scrape over his Adam’s apple, one of his hands wandering over Sebastian’s chest and squeezing at a pec.

“Sir,” Sebastian says, breathlessly scandalized. “Wh- what are you doing?”

“Just takin’ what I want.” Chris pulls back to look Sebastian in the eye, grabbing his chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You got a problem with that, sweetheart?”

Sebastian gulps, blinking hard. “No, sir.”

“That’s what I thought,” Chris leers, leaning in to bite at Sebastian’s bottom lip and pulling at it with his teeth. At the same time, he runs his left hand down Sebastian’s side and abs, all the way down until it slips between his legs. He cups the growing hardness there, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Oh, fuck,” Sebastian breathes, hands flying up to Chris’s waist.

“How’s that feel, honey? You like that?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Yeah? You want me to keep touching you?”

“Yes.” Another mean squeeze. “Yes, please,” Sebastian amends quickly.

“How sweet.” Chris palms Sebastian’s dick again, tight and warm and so good, before abruptly pulling back his hand, leaving Sebastian to whimper and buck his hips. “Well, that’s tough, sweetheart,” Chris tells him, “‘cause you’re not gettin’ anything else till I decide you’ve earned it.”

Before Sebastian even has time to process that, Chris spins them around so that Chris is the one with his back against the wall, and then roughly pushes Sebastian down to his knees with a big hand on his shoulder.

Sebastian moans; a little for show, and a little because he genuinely likes being pushed around a bit. Usually, though, it takes Chris a lot longer to let go liken this. It tends to happen only when he’s getting close and his all he blood in his brain has relocated to his dick, but now, it seems that a little bit of clumsy role-play also does the trick.

Whatever it is, Sebastian thinks, he’ll be damned if he lets an opportunity like this pass him by.

Resting his hands on Chris thighs, Sebastian eagerly leans in to nuzzle at his crotch, mouthing at the hardening outline of his dick through his jeans. Chris hisses, hand scrabbling at Sebastian’s hair, trying to find purchase before seeming to realize that Sebastian’s hair is too short to grab right now (and doesn’t that make Sebastian suddenly regret cutting it immensely) and resorting to putting a hand over Sebastian’s face and just pushing him away instead.

“Did I say you could do that?” Chris’s asks. His usually easy voice is now laced with something dark, something almost menacing, sending a shiver down Sebastian’s spine.

He swallows hard, his throat suddenly dry, dick perking up eagerly inside his sweats. “No, sir. Sorry.”

“Damn right,” Chris mutters. “You’ll get it when I give it to you. Now, are you gonna be good for me?”

Sebastian sucks in a shaky breath. Goddamn.

“Are you?” Chris repeats, tapping Sebastian’s cheek to prompt him.

“Yeah,” Sebastian nods, a little dazed. “Yeah, I’ll be good.” He watches, fascinated, as Chris’s right hand deftly flicks open the button on his jeans, before slowly pulling down his zipper, inch by excruciating inch. Sebastian finds himself willing Chris to go faster, to let him see what he’s got in his pants, which is ridiculous, because Sebastian knows what Chris has got in his pants. He should, seeing as he’s sucked it plenty of times. But somehow, what they’re doing here feels all kinds of new and exciting. Makes his breath come faster, eyes glued to the bulge in Chris’s jeans and mouth starting to water in anticipation.

Once his zip is down, Chris lowers his jeans a little, just enough so he can comfortably cup his dick, giving himself a teasing squeeze. “You want this?”

Sebastian tears his eyes away from it and looks up at Chris, who’s looking down at him with a sardonic smile on his face.

“Yes, please,” Sebastian says, feeling his eyes go big and round almost of their own volition.

Chris groans quietly, stroking Sebastian’s cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Look at you. Such a pretty guy.” A devilish glint appears in his eyes as he adds, “Be a shame if something got you all dirty, wouldn’t it?”

Oh, jesus.

While Sebastian can’t do anything but watch uselessly, Chris takes himself out of his underwear, pulling down his boxers enough to hook the waistband under his balls but otherwise remaining fully clothed. His dick is all the way hard already, flushed that pretty shade of pink Sebastian loves so much, wetness pearling at the exposed tip. Sebastian’s mouth literally waters so much he needs to swallow. Once again, he leans in to try and get his mouth on Chris, and once again Chris pushes him back with an admonishing hand to the face.

“Now, now. Don’t be greedy.”

Sebastian huffs impatiently behind Chris’s palm. “Please.”

Chris chuckles, taking hold of Sebastian’s chin again and running the pad of his thumb over Sebastian’s bottom lip. Sebastian doesn’t waste any time in letting his mouth drop open, something thrilling inside of him when Chris slides his thumb between his lips and presses down on his tongue. Sebastian closes his lips around the digit, moaning softly as he suckles at it. It’s not quite what he wants, but it’s still part of Chris inside of him, and he’ll take what he can get.

Sebastian is all set to protest again when Chris pulls his finger out, but before he can say anything, Chris shuts him right back up again by taking his cock in hand and literally rubbing it in Sebastian’s face.

Sebastian makes a shocked noise, eyes fluttering closed and mouth going slack. He moans, louder than before, and it’s not for show this time. Not even a little bit. Fire licks up his spine, his dick giving a desperate twitch inside his sweats. Fuck, but that’s hot. It’s downright filthy, the way the wetness leaking from Chris’s dick feels on his clean-shaven cheeks. Makes him feel dirty and owned, helpless, desperate for it.

“Open up,” Chris tells him, tapping his cheek. “Stick out your tongue.”

Sebastian does, and then--  Chris puts his dick on it. Just rests it there, not moving. Like he has all the time in the world. Oh, god.

“Stay still.”

Sebastian tries – he tries so hard to keep still, to be good and wait until Chris tells him he can move, but his tongue seems to have a mind of its own, rubbing lightly along the underside of Chris’s cock. The action causes it to spurt out some precome, which drips down his throat, making Sebastian swallow involuntarily. If asked, he’d swear he doesn’t shut his mouth on purpose, but if his lips closing around Chris’s shaft happens to make Chris groan and push in deeper, then that’s just a happy side effect.

“Suck it.” Chris’s voice has gone all low and rough now – and the order should sound stupid, like something out of a bad porn flick, but then this whole thing is kind of like a bad porn flick. And while that would usually be a turn off, right now, it’s setting Sebastian on fucking fire.

“I said, suck it,” Chris repeats, when Sebastian doesn’t obey right away, and presses in deeper, a little rough with it.

Sebastian jolts into action, moaning feverishly as he starts to suck Chris off as if his life depends on it. He uses his left hand, his tongue, his lips, and choking a little when he takes Chris too deep in one go –

And then suddenly, he’s being pushed back again.

Sebastian whines.

“Easy, tiger,” Chris clucks, a little condescending despite his breathlessness. “I said suck it, not slobber all over it like some horny teen that’s never seen a dick before.”

The rejection stings, but it’s a good sting; one that makes the back of Sebastian’s neck burn hot and his dick strain almost painfully against the material of his pants.

“You know,” Chris continues, rubbing the tip of his cock over Sebastian’s slick lips, almost absent-mindedly. “If you can’t control yourself, I’m gonna have to do it for you.” Not waiting for a reply, Chris grabs the back of Sebastian’s sweater and uses it to hold him in place. The neck of it strains against Sebastian’s throat when he tries to lean forward, causing him to draw in a raspy breath. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” Sebastian whispers. He’s not sure if that’s the right answer, but it’s the honest answer, and the only one he’s got right now.

Chris shrugs. “Suit yourself.” Hooking his thumb over Sebastian’s bottom row of teeth, he pries his mouth open, forces his jaw down, and proceeds to feed his cock back into Sebastian’s mouth. And this time, he doesn’t stop until the head hits the back of his throat.

Despite having had a bit of practice, Sebastian’s gag reflex kicks in. He tries to swallows, and that makes Chris moan real pretty, so of course he does it again. Chris hips stutter and Sebastian’s eyelids flutter, and Chris pulls out before then sliding all the way back in again, over and over until Sebastian’s eyes start to water and his vision goes blurry.

When Chris tentatively thrusts in a little deeper still, a little rougher and less controlled, Sebastian lets out what is quite probably the most wanton sound he’s ever made.

“Ohh,” Chris muses, low and a little mean. “You like that, huh? Like it when you’re chokin’ on my dick? Yeah, ‘course you do, pretty little thing like you.”

Ho-ly-shit. They’re no strangers to a bit of dirty talk, but this… this feels different. It’s borderline degrading, what Chris is saying and doing, and Sebastian finds himself going wild for it.

Who knew.

Undoubtedly noticing Sebastian’s reaction, Chris does it again, pushing in deep and holding there until Sebastian starts to splutter. “Take it, all of it,” Chris orders, sounding almost unaffected. “Thought you wanted it, huh? C’mon, open wider. Yeah, that’s it.”

Feeling hot all over, Sebastian does his best to do what is asked of him. He opens his throat and relaxes as best he can, breathing harshly through his nose while he takes what Chris is giving him. He honestly might come in his pants any minute now, just from this. Chris’s cock is hard and heavy on his tongue, dripping down his throat, his familiar, musky scent everywhere, clouding Sebastian’s brain with screaming lust. One big hand rests heavy on Sebastian’s shoulder, fingers digging almost painfully into his trapezius muscle, and Sebastian’s knees hurt, and his jaw hurts, and he’s sore, and he’s gonna be even more sore later, but right now, he doesn’t care.

He feels good, amazing even. The only thing that’s missing now is seeing Chris fall apart. He wants Chris to come so badly, more so even than he wants to come himself, that he can feel it all the way down in his toes.

He doesn’t notice that his cheeks are wet until Chris brings up a hand to wipe at the tear tracks, meanwhile keeping up the relentless rhythm of his hips, steadily pumping in and out.

“Hey.”

Sebastian turns his eyes up, meeting Chris dark and heated gaze, misty through the tears. For a split second, Chris looks at him like himself, quickly cataloguing Sebastian’s condition, before seeming to decide they’re still on the same page. His eyes turn mean again, and Sebastian’s already racing heart skips a beat.

Chris coos then, a soft aaww which makes Sebastian feel equal parts cherished and pathetic. “Should see yourself, honey. Cryin’ and drooling all over my cock…” Chris thumbs at the corner of Sebastian’s mouth, wet with a mixture of spit and tears and Chris’s slick. “Jesus, you’re a mess.”

The words are condescending, but Chris’s voice sounds awed despite himself, and Sebastian is lit up with it from the inside out. He can tell Chris is getting close. Can hear it in his breathing, feel it from the way his thrusts get sloppier and rougher, dick occasionally slipping out and rubbing against Sebastian’s cheek before making its home in his eager mouth again.

“Oh, that’s it, baby,” Chris groans, fingers tightening impossibly on Sebastian’s shoulder. “Gonna make me come. Shit.”

Sebastian moans, letting Chris know how much he wants that, willing him to go faster.

Chris curses again, breathless now, heavy lidded eyes locked on Sebastian’s. “So close, f-fuck. Gonna come all over that pretty face, baby. Ahh, fuck yeah.”

Chris thrusts in deeply one last time, his mouth dropping open. Sebastian feels the first spurt of his release hit the back of his throat, before Chris hastily pulls out and lets the rest of it spill on Sebastian’s face. Come hits his cheeks, his nose, drips down into his mouth, warm and wet and Chris. It’s accompanied by an acute sense of accomplishment, making Sebastian feel boneless and sated, like he’s the one who just blew his load.

As if his strings have been cut, Chris slumps, sliding down the wall until he’s sitting on the floor. His eyes, still a little wild with the remnants of his ecstasy, roam over Sebastian’s face, wide like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he breathes, grabbing Sebastian’s head between his hands and kissing him, deep and filthy. His tongue pushes in, hot and demanding, licking the taste of himself out of Sebastian’s slack mouth. The mustache is rough against Sebastian’s face. It stings a little, and Sebastian relishes it.

Abruptly, Chris breaks the kiss only to pull him closer, practically into his lap. Sebastian is mostly boneless at this point, except for the bit between his legs, so he lets himself be pulled and arranged like a ragdoll until he’s sandwiched between Chris’s spread thighs.

Chris’s hand fumbles with the drawstring on Sebastian’s sweats, sticking a hand down his pants. When his fingers wrap around his aching dick, Sebastian nearly sobs with relief. He hadn’t even realized how desperate for release he was, too focused on Chris’s pleasure to even register his own need, but now that Chris is touching him, finally touching him, the need to come slams into him like a freight train. The angle is awkward, and Sebastian has trouble breathing because his throat hurts and Chris is still trying to sucking his face off, but it doesn’t matter. He is so on edge that after only a few strokes, he cries out and shoots off all over Chris’s hand. He buries his face in Chris’s neck, mouth open and slack against the warm skin beneath Chris’s ear, while he rides out the aftershocks.

Christ, that was good.

An indeterminate amount of time later, Chris starts rubbing circles over Sebastian’s back. It’s a calming gesture, soothing. Apologetic. “You okay?” he asks quietly. “Did I hurt you?”

Sebastian takes stock of his body. He’s sore as hell, but it’s a good kind of sore. Nothing hurts, in the bad sense of the word. “I’m okay,” he slurs, only it comes out more like, “Mmmhfgk.”

“You sure?” Chris presses. “‘Cause I – I got a little carried away there. Fuck, I didn’t even check if that was okay, I’m sorry.”

Sebastian scoffs, lifting his head. If there’s one thing Sebastian is certain of, it’s that Chris would have stopped immediately if Sebastian had given even the slightest indication that he wasn’t having a good time. He fixes Chris with a hard look – or at least, as hard as he’s capable of in his post-orgasmic state. “Did I look like it wasn’t okay? That was so hot, Chris. It was like, maximum okay.”

Chris makes a sound, reaching up to wipe at Sebastian’s cheeks with his sleeve. “Jesus, Seb.” He still looks a little stunned, wide-eyed and red-cheeked. The mustache makes him look a little dumb, and Sebastian really does kind of love it.

He lifts a finger, gently stroking it over the bristly hairs.

“Thanks for making me feel better about this thing,” Chris says, his eyes back to being soft and loving now.

Sebastian shakes his head. “My pleasure, believe me. I mean, I’m a little concerned about myself, but I’m glad it stopped you worrying.”

“I wasn’t worried.”

“’Course not,” Sebastian replies, patting Chris’s chest.

They sit there for a moment, catching their breath and allowing their minds to unmuddle themselves.

Suddenly, Sebastian jolts upright. “Oh, shit.”

Chris is on instant alert, gaze sharpening as he takes Sebastian in from head to toe. “What is it?” he asks, obviously assuming Sebastian has suddenly discovered that Chris did hurt him after all. “What’s wrong?”

“Your beer.”

Chris blinks at him. “My beer?”

“It’s still in the freezer. It’s only supposed to be in there for like, fifteen minutes tops.”

Chris rolls his eyes. “Fuck the beer,” he says, pulling Sebastian back into his chest.

“But what if it explodes and ruins my freezer?”

“I’ll buy you a new freezer, jeez. Dork.”

“Hey,” Sebastian scolds mildly. “Don’t forget I’m the dork who just made you come your brains out.”

“Trust me,” Chris says, leaning in to kiss him again. “I’m not forgetting that any time soon.”

Read on AO3

[liveslivedinthemind]

It’s called Freefall Chapter 2

Summary: When you're born, the Universe has already decided who will be your soulmate by marking their first touch on your skin. Some of those soul marks are just a small fingerprint on their shoulder, or maybe a hand mark from a handshake. Some even have multiple, and it is never sure what kind of a bond you're destined to have with your soulmate. Alexandra Turner is a special case however, as her whole body is covered in marks. 24 to be exact. What she doesn't know that there's someone else out there with 24 marks who's waiting for her to bump into them.

Pairing: Original Female Character x Kevin Wendell Crumb/Dennis/Barry/the whole system

Fandom: Split

Word count: 1.5k

Masterlist

Author’s note: Please feel free to let me know if I have messed something up or if you have any advice on how I can improve my writing. I hope you enjoy!

If you wish to be added to the taglist for this fic, let me know :)

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“No fucking way…”

Those words had just slipped out of Barry’s mouth as he looked at the woman behind him he had most likely just saved from falling on the stairs. A wide grin grew on his face as he stopped walking on the stairs and leaned against the handrailing. He had always been wondering how he’d meet his soulmate, daydreaming up all kinds of unexpected romantic encounters, yet the truth happened to be so simple. Something he never thought would happen with himself, it seemed so uncharacteristic to him yet so poetically fitting. Of course he’d meet them on his way to the place he so desperately hoped would help Kevin, soulmates were supposed to be the ones who would be a companion on one’s life journey. He took it as a sign from the Universe that this was a good thing, a sign that they were on the right path.

The smile on his lips slowly faded away though as he realized that his excitement was most definitely not matched. Alex looked horrified and all the blood had drained from her face as she just stared at the stranger in front of her. Her mind was running as fast as it could, trying to figure out what had just happened, what to say, how to stand, how to speak. And eventually, she could recognize only one thought - ‘Run… Run… I need to run!’

“I have to go, I just remembered that I… have to go.”

She whispered out, looking away from the man. She then quickly turned around and rushed down the stairs and immediately out of the building. The rain had picked up even more and the cold downpour was a welcomed guest to Alex as it cleared her mind just a little bit. She made her way down the street, dodging the people and making sure she didn’t stick out in the crowd. She needed a place to hide herself for just a moment, a tucked away alley or something where she could catch her breath and collect herself. 

Taking a turn to her right, she finally leaned against the wall of what seemed to be a small apartment complex. Her lungs were struggling to calm themselves from both the shock of sudden rushing, and from meeting someone she didn’t think she would ever meet. Her fingers gently rested on her shoulder where his mark was located, the rain creating some white noise for her to just disappear from the world a little bit. Alex just wanted to exist as no one for a moment, give herself that peace of not having to deal with anything. 

Rain fell onto her face and the wind turned her cheeks a bright shade of red but she didn’t notice anything around her. Alex felt her breath calming down to the point where she spent more time in a state of holding her breath than she did actively breathing. This allowed her to very slowly return to reality and she looked up at the sky, allowing the drops to coat her entire face as she tried to go over everything that had happened in the past couple of minutes of her life.

Alex had met one of her soulmates, there was no denying that. She didn’t even catch his name or a good look of his face but from what she could remember, he was a force to be reckoned with. He had a big muscular frame, even though it was hidden by the baggy coat and jeans. He was fashionable, she couldn’t deny that, and the beanie he wore gave her a youthful image. Much younger than his face portrayed, and she had a feeling that underneath the hat, he was fully shaven. And his eyes had been so kind, especially when he had realized that she was his soulmate. She could have sworn she saw them sparkle for a second. 

But Alex couldn’t go back to him, she didn’t want to pass on the pain that he’d have to share her with 23 other people who were still somewhere out there. There were rumors of what happened to those who ignored the connection between soulmates, but she was certain that it must be a lot smaller compared to the agony of someone having to be together with such an attention whore as herself. Alex just couldn’t risk seeing the disappointment of the man’s face. 

With a soft sigh of a held breath leaving her lips, Alex pushed herself to stand from the wall and took out her phone. She sent Doctor Fletcher a short email, saying that she unfortunately has to cancel her appointment and to let her know if she would need to pay for any kind of fee for a no-show since she did cancel at such a short notice. Tension was rising in her body as she knew it was not the most polite thing to do but she couldn’t risk seeing that man once again. She’d just find a new therapist somewhere far away from this place, maybe she could try online therapy instead. 

While pulling her headphones out of her bag, she put them on and turned back onto the busy street. Alex could feel an emptiness in her chest and it was weighing her down, but she just kept walking in the opposite direction to the good doctor’s office. The tears were stinging her eyes, but she just excused it to herself as it was a result of the rain and wind irritating them. It was easier that way for her to accept what she had chosen to do. It was always easier for her to just continue to exist in her current state than to risk any changes.

It was made clear to her that the Universe had other plans for her however because the first person she saw when she finally looked up from her shoes was that man. Her soulmate. It was clear he had been running from his ragged breathing and red face. He smiled at her though and tried to catch his breath as he spoke up,

“There you are, I’ve been running up and down the street like a loon.”

His voice was filled with happiness and the smile on his face never dropped as he swallowed and let out a final big breath. Alex looked up at him, unable to say anything, because the glimmer in his eyes made her heart and stomach erupt into millions of tiny yellow butterflies. She bit her bottom lip hard to make sure she wouldn’t smile back as the man finally introduced himself.

“I’m Barry by the way, and you have no idea how hard I’ve tried to find you.”

‘Barry… sounds cheerful.’

Alex thought to herself before she softly whispered,

“I’m Alex. I…”

She trailed off, unable to actually say that she thought it would be best for them to part ways out loud. No one knew of her numerous soul marks, she was sure even her parents had forgotten the full amount, and part of her had always thought she wouldn’t meet even one of them so she never really thought about how she’d tell them about it. Luckily for her, Barry spoke up once again.

“Listen, I’ve got a feeling we need to talk about some things because I’ve got a couple more marks on me.”

He said those words with such ease as if they were talking about the weather. Alex’s eyes widened and her breath got caught in her chest - he had more marks too? How many did he have? It possibly couldn’t be as many as she did. So many questions ran through her head and she was getting so overwhelmed that she had to dig her fingernails into the palm of her hand to keep herself grounded in the moment. She knew she had to say something, anything, but the best she could do was nod. It was as if her mind and body were refusing her to open her mouth.

Barry could see the amount of anxiety and tension coursing through Alex’s veins and he let out a sad chuckle before he tilted his head and said softly,

“Come, I know a quiet place and don’t worry about Doctor Fletcher. I mentioned to her what happened and she’s more than happy to reschedule with you.”

He somehow had an inkling that Alex would worry about her session and whether or not it would be rescheduled on time so he made sure to run up to his therapist’s office first and give her a short summary of what had happened before he ran after her. It looked like it was the right move on his side as Alex gave him a soft smile and another nod. 

He motioned her to follow him, knowing it would be a bit too forward of him to put his arm around her at that moment. Alex started to walk half a step behind him, still unable to speak, but something in her chest was slowly blooming. Like the first snowdrop popping its head through the cold ground as the first sign of spring. 

< Chapter 1                                                      Chapter 3 >

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Taglist: @royaltysuite

[silusvesuius]

hold on i'm about tos tart spitting facts right now, My nelvas in t*lltale twd setting i was thinking about for a bit; as i said........... they have a perfect imbalanced dynamic dats fun to play with so they obviously would do 'Good' in a zombie apocalypse too......UUUUUUUUUUUU 😭UUWAH😭WWWWWWA😭AHHHHHHHH NELVAAS anyways:

i just spent minutes writing a calmer caption for this but tumblr threw that take away so we're left with what we have above. anyways i wrote most of this riding a high. 🤗

first off talvas always gives me spiraling med student vibes so that's what he is. he's like ~24 as i always label him, so probably getting a masters. that won't matter soon though lol. something to do with surgery so that it's convenient to the setting and his 'role' in a group. (logically it would make more sense for him to be into engineering and such, but that's not alldat interesting for this or any setting at all imo)

and then obviously neloth wud be a professor perhaps or just someone talvas sees on the regular for educational purposes. i'm just gonna say he's pushing 70 but still not retired for some reason (he's a Tryhard). i honestly get the feeling he would carry the same level annoyance people get from Larry of s1 except he doesn't really start fights + has no actual 'good' reason to be that unbearable unlike Larry, who did have crumbs of a tragic past/loss. he's big on researching stuff at his own alone time and has an extensive record of abusing and testing on animals i BET! but it gets covered up pretty easily, or no one really wants to get into that debacle with him. everyone knows that if he could he'd test on people too.

i'm not gonna start making up entire lifestories rn so let's get to the zombie part. they obviously end up together involuntarily, talvas isn't really overjoyed but doesn't detest it either, since he respects neloff deeply and trusts his judgement (sometimes). neloth just keeps him around because he knows he can't just be walking around free at his old age in an apocalyptic world and needs a meat-shield with him at all times, especially someone young that has more energy/physical abilities than him. but obviously talvas is not always able to be big help to him just cause he's pretty "Soft" and wasn't ever prepared for anything like this. he's still stressing over his finals or soemthing bruh. they develop a strong 'bond' @ some point just cause neloth isn't liked by anyone and nobody is actually willing to stick with him thru it all but talvas. just bc it's easy for him to cling onto someone that reminds him of the normal past. when neloth realizes that someone is willing to look past his nasty behavior or practices, or is just afraid to voice their own opinion, he starts being pretty open with that person (talvas in this case), a form of trust. it's not just cause talvas is a lil bitch, but also cause he himself shares some opinions that neloth has on other people's lives/their worth/morality. it's something that would stick out from his personality in any setting at all but here it's even more important from all the deaths happening around them, especially when they're grouped up with other people. their apocalypse journey is just 90% talvas trying to do damage control and apologizing for neloth's behavior by saying he has a (NPD) diagnosis he has never taken care of before the whole zombie thing happened so u should be patient with him

so obvi the best part of this all would definitely be seeing how they would gel with a group of other survivors. it's funny too because talvas is literally always the only reason nobody throws neloth out to die or just blows his head off clean bc they had enough. talvas takes on the role of a medic like Katt in s1, and is 'high ranking' just cause of that. neloth is a 1000001% even more capable of taking on that role, but i just Know......he would just refuse to do it cus he doesn't feel like it. he'd probably try and separate himself from the group or any discussions they might have because he doesn't value anyone's opinion on anything at all. the only thing keeping him in a group would be talvas begging him to stay (neloth not being able to separate from him for reasons listed above) and him finding something to do to keep himself occupied. and Happy at that 😍 it goes like this: (talvas voice) hey remember your wife that turned last week so we had to put her down ? Yes about that i;m sorry to bring her up, Yeah stop crying i'm sorry, anyways as i was saying.. Sir neloth dug her out of that grave and is currently ripping of her skin tidbits to lab test them, just thought you should know.. don't tell him i told you anything please he'll get really mad at me okay . also your son that you didn't have the heart to put down and just left him for us to deal with? Tied to a bed, he already turned so it's no big deal, sir neloth broke his jaw off so he can't do anything to you if you feel like seeing him. Sir neloth chops his limbs off to see what happens sometimes. it's smells like crazy in there tho so wear this mask if you wanna go in, just warning you.

can't say there'd be an apparent motive that others see in his experimental, kinda unethical, ventures, but talvas assures everyone that there is one. nobody knows. But honestly neloth is too smart of a guy to just be testing on people out of pure curiosity, it might be him trying to blow out his ego to an unimaginable degree by trying to figure out how the whole infection works, how to stop someone from turning or how to cure someone who's been bitten. tasks very ambitious but keeping him busy and away from everyone else. he mostly only communicates and shares 'secrets' with talvas because talvas has faith in him and doesn't see anything wrong with what he's doing. bonus: the whole group hates neloth even more because he keeps using the generator power to have talvas shave his head even though that should be his last priority. neloth is in seventh heaven the whole time (not showing it) just cause his dream of getting to experiment on people without being thrown in jail became true

cute fact: if they ever got into a St. John's dairy type situation and were confronted with the fact that they committed cannibalism.... they rly wouldn't gaf especially neloth. i can see talvas turning to look at him just to see how he feels (and form his opinion on the situation around his reaction) and neloth is just chilling getting his stomach full. talvas wud be disgusted by the food but then eat regardless. feels Funny for the remainder of his life after that. it really doesn't bother neloth tho. i had other situations in mind for them but they slipped out of my mind for now lmfao

neloth would have the most insane plot armor of all time to the extent that even though he's always working closely with the undead he'd never get bitten or just get killed. his ego is shielding him from everything because he values his life so much that it works in his favor. talvas latches onto that plot armor just because he's the 'closest' person to neloth but he's too nice of a person to actually survive for a very long time. he'd get Bitten😂😂😂😂 #FlyHigh but actually the nicest thing(s) neloth has ever done for him would happen after that occurrence... i feel like they'd hide that fact from everyone as a team and neloth would try to do something about it. but talvas dies anyway bye king. love you

wait Update: i forgot i wanted to write down some of this here as a bonus too. skyrim would still be in warfare but it just gets paused for zombies. i really want (we all want something don't we damnn) for elenwen and all her thalmorlings to be stuck together with some imperials in a military base perhaps. doesn't matter. just leading up to the fact that thalmor would have free reign to commit cannibalism (not every single one of them is into the idea but they're not that disgusted by it) while the imperials just try to survive on actual supplies. Elenwen: Back on summerset isles we were always taught not to waste 🤓🤓. they have the most civil agreement where the thalmor would promise not to eat any imperials if they let them eat outsiders as they pleased.

[aeide-thea]

have been reading fic & thinking abt my relationship to fic, which is of course also among other things a mirror of my relationship to my own psyche, and like—i think all the discourse abt its being ~internalized misogyny~ to mostly/entirely read m/m is not ultimately, whatever the truth of it, all that helpful, either to readers or to Women! but of course that doesn't stop me from feeling weird guilt abt the fact that i don't read more f/f than i do, because if there's anything i love to do, it's feel unhelpfully bad abt myself on the slimmest of pretexts…

however! i did end up reading some f/f earlier, specifically transfem f/f, and it got me thinking—basically what i'm usually mostly reading fic for is the romance/sex, right? like, don't get me wrong, i love when a fic gives me a gorgeous double helix of, like, casefic and romance twisted together, that's ideal, but fundamentally most of the time the feeling up is what i sat down at the table to eat. so in a complex aegosexual way it's a fantasy i'm—not projecting onto, exactly, i don't want to be one of the people in it; but, like, lurking in the wings of with eyes big love-crumbs, to steal a phrase from a relevantly-named poet. :) and so it's no wonder that mostly i don't want to read cisfemme4cisfemme stuff, because that's not a dynamic that feels like it has any room for me, or even like i'm particularly welcome in the room. but like. if it's trans women? i'm there, i love that for them and for me. if there's a butch? i might get tripped up by our differing lenses on gender feelings and stub my toe a little but even so i'm probably here for it. (thinking here abt that one butch/femme geraskier ~cisswap which is, like, a gorgeous bruise i keep periodically pressing. <3)

so really it's just like. shocker: i'm not personally moved by fantasies abt romance which feature conventionally feminine cis women whom i don't personally find relatable or sexually desirable! and when i put it like that, it really instantly dissolves the weird useless discourse-induced guiltgunk. like. give me a woman who's, idk, tall and charismatic and strong and clever and talented at something (though honestly it's like that siken revised tweet, a lot of those characteristics are ultimately negotiable!), like women i've historically crushed on irl, and then give me a pairing for her that's like. another woman who's also enough of those things, or a man who's—honestly the kind of m/f i'm open to would be its own whole post bc holy shit am i fussy, it very much does exist but for now let's just stick a pin in that one—or somebody nonbinary, which… idk that i've ever actually seen nb/f in fic? i'm sure it exists! but i'm not sure it exists in any fandoms i've been into. pondering the question did get me really thirsty for a good 'farmgirl (of the luke skywalker variety) is absolutely stunned-and-ringing-like-a-struck-bell captivated by confident flamboyantly genderqueer love interest (example wanted)' dynamic, though…

[frosteee-variation]

Would you be willing to perhaps share a crumb of Miss Direction lore? I see them tagged often and it has made me curious. (If not that's totally cool too)

OH ABSOLUTELY. I LOVE HER SO MUCH SHE’S SO SILLY TO ME <333

I talked a bit about her a while back, but tl;dr she’s a character for a campaign I’m in!! Would-be actor and accidental murderer who got roped into more crime afterwards, specifically acting as a lackey for others. She can also do a lot of things by playing off of other peoples’ perception or initial conception of things, hence the name!

She’s got a lot of hound theming even if it’s not entirely her schtick, and there’s a whole bit about persona there that’s integral to her character which is really fun. Also, the name changes every time she feels like it’s funny (Miss Direction, Miss Interpretation, Miss Guided, Miss Nomer, Miss Ellaneous, Miss Lead, Miss Chiffe, Hoode Winke, Redd Herrin, etc.) but typically she just sticks with Direction. It’s got a fun ring to it!

[ilostyou]

youngblood (by 5sos) ranking!

ghost of you

meet you there

more

lie to me

why won't you love me

youngblood

want you back

if walls could talk

moving along

talk fast

better man

valentine

babylon

empty wallets

woke up in japan

monster among men

@fountainpensongs your move. but first .. things to consider! (buckle up i didnt even realize how long this was)

ghost of you will never not be my top song off this album and quite frankly possibly all of 5sos' discography but not in a basic omg ghost of you! way. in a. this song is Mine and it makes me Feel and. yes. anyway. meet you there is a very solid 2 for me bc !!!! it fucking SLAPS and one of the songs i immediately fell in love w listening for the first time and that has not changed. more???????? same thing. extra points for the easier-more transition and being absolutely phenomenal live (myt and more also slay vocals across the board. as always, but bears mentioning). next lie to me, great song on its own but when you consider the background 🙃 feelings are hurt and it's very solidly up there. wwylm actually only recently grew on me but i LOVE her now, it's actually a super sad song?? really really like it actually. next we have the youngblood/wyb/iwct stretch which really is interchangeable based on my mood lol they all SLAP and imo are a tier (youngblood maybe s tier bc of how rockstar™ it is of them esp live) but either way. slay. wyb would maybe be higher but in a way it feels kind of basic to me for some reason? but i do like it a lot it's never a skip and is almost always a straight bop. then we've got moving along and talk fast - moving along goes surprisingly hard but i'll say it's not their best songwriting and feels kinda cheesy lol so. very good middle of the album here. talk fast is SO FUN im obsessed w calum's verse, absolute banger but don't necessarily love it more than the ones above it yknow? THEN the little holy trinity of better man/valentine/babylon being songs i really did not like or listen to UNTIL i listened to the myt tour live album and i was Changed by these three specifically (better man - FUCK me at a quarter to three???? luke?? excuse me??????? valentine....the entire thing. the whole damn thing. michael did not leave one crumb and calum is HOT. babylon - pure vibes live and see prev re calum.) i however dont love the studio versions so they kinda hang down here lol. THEN LASTLY. my dead last trio. they can die. i have listened to mam maaaaybe 3 times total i Do Not Like It. woke up in japan makes me full body cringe idk why, empty wallets i just ? do not vibe with. don't like her either

honorable mention for when you walk away! a whole bop but i can't just stick her in the rest of the ranking bc i don't really ? know where it would go bc it's so separate to me

and NOW thank you for coming to this actual ted talk

[sniperct]

Some minor dragonflight spoilers, but random nice things I've noticed that's just… there. As in its completely normal and just exists which is really nice.

like you can argue they're just crumbs but its so normalized within the world and is a thousand times better than those two night elves flirting up in star's rest. I mean sure I want a major lore character to be gay, but I still love it, just existing like we're a part of the world.

Dude who teaches you some of the new crafting mechanics's quest line involves making a gift for his husband and you repeatedly encounter them as they teach you how to craft

first centaur leader you meet in the main storyline has a service animal she trained herself and speaks through an sign interpreter because she's gay (and their society is generally matriarchal without making the matriarchy into the patriarchy but in reverse)

you know how there are animals that help people with trauma? yeah that's a thing you explicitly help with and it's a really touching story

there's a quest to help a centaur propose to his boyfriend and while you're doing it you pick up a quest to help the 2nd centaur propose to the 1st centaur and it's as adorable as it sounds (the description of how they first met still sticks with me)

ENBY CENTAUR! also a couple other characters referred to with they/them pronouns

wide variety of skin tones for most of the expedition npcs as well as the centaurs and dragon visage forms

The entire 'stay a while' quest is poignant and touching. How time and distance can make you forget things but you can't forget everything and the pain can still be as raw and real as it was ten thousand years ago

horde and alliance actually acting like allies and even being friends and respecting each other *its been 18 years.gif*

Also the whole general theme of finding new lands and helping the dragons reconnect with the place that was once their home is *chef's kiss*

General mood and feeling for me reminds me heavily of the best parts of mists of pandaria.

Also the bad guys in like just a few cutscenes and quests make a lot more sense and have much more interesting and valid motivations than anything SL tried to do.

[incarnateirony]

Ah, good morning world. So now that fandom has had a bit of a wake-up about 2p0 and his violent sources and their real motivations,

While I say everything on his blog is as dumb and wrong as it gets, finally in all of this, he said one true thing people should listen to: People can lie about M&Gs. Easily. Especially people with biases, such as the regulars he uses for sources. All the time.

All Pat ever HAS is M&Gs. It's his whole schtick. Him unironically admitting they can be lied about and manipulated is the only true thing he has ever said, because it's all he and they do.

A huge section of Profound Bond fell for this child fucker's nonsense. They've let him rot dialogue, try to control people using their basic eyeballs on The Winchesters, stomped down people observing what the show is doing to try to save his throne, and it's not gonna work.

I can tell you right now. I didn't lie about the M&G and on site, 2p0's sources didn't either, because they were raging about it. They snarked sarcastically back about questions. They asked to try to identify who the girl was that knew the song, or asked the question, and then the threats started, then they're going "how do people know what was said?" because your drunk asses (already a CE violation) were ranting in the lobby about cutting people.

It's time to pay real, real close attention to 2p0. His actual patterns. His actual agendas. Not just what he says or claims, but what he does and who he engages with for what purpose.

That nonnie "well he can be out there but I prefer your (pat) level-headed-" fuck your comfortable civility culture. The truth is the truth, what about that are you jackasses not getting? No rebel ever accomplished anything by making sure to keep their voice down and saying yes maam yes sir, I'll eat and consider your bullshit.

It's bullshit. You guys know it's bullshit. It was convenient to attach to, to continue to nurse rather than address your own trauma like this show is designed to even walk you through. And people latched on. And now you're realizing it's bullshit and going WELL HE'S MEAN.

No, I'm fuckin mad. Because this fandom is liable for dragging queer creatives, representation movements and more all in its own petty personal wants, and they don't fucking like hearing that. But we're in new Orleans. Get your shit together and learn how we do, here.

half the sunday crowd is a hair's breadth from getting blackballed as a start. I take after my big bro, alright. the one you deny exists, because you think reality can work like that.

2p0 has been lying and controlling PB's narrative for years manipulating M&Gs, occasionally scrambling to look like he has actual sources by pulling ancient scripts. He denied the market testing, berens intent, the confession, the roadhouse, the omissions, and the winchesters pilot script itself along with the direction the show itself is shaped into. He denied it all. bc of his super itk M&Gs he reads badly.

Look past finding crumbs of old scripts he buys. Look how his sources failed him repeatedly on The Winchesters, even on payroll, even if he waves her around a LOT. Remember my warnings about low grade coffee runners not knowing their place like Manchin and the market testing. See the entire little clout game they're playing.

It's a bubble for wincels and bronlies and multishippers to try to pretend this is gonna be another decade they can pretend shit is relative in rather than like, a season. It's talking and being loud and turning you against your content and faves. That's why it's this cobbling of wincels and samstielers and salty megstielers all sticking on an I Ship Destiel pin to fuck around in PB. Like, Quickreaver? Are you guys fucking insane?

You wanna know why servers like mine exist to house PB refugees? It's this insufferable rot. Hundreds of people just wanting the fuck away from the fake noise and hysteria these people intentionally inspire that clutters up and makes your server just outright unenjoyable. The amount of people that outright blame 2p0 for chasing them out because he won't let them have eyes and watch the show is astounding.

Pay. Attention. All he's ever had is M&Gs. Stop trusting this incestuous son of a bitch with whispers from a god awful, physical harm threatening, j2 tinhatted friend ring and y'all been letting him and these people yank your chain for years because they're salty it isn't their ship, literally. Look at 2p0's post that like. Fic Must Be Appropriately Only Subtextual, As I Enjoy Platonic Friendships, But I Ship Destiel. Let Me Dogwhistle By Manipulating Queerplat Terms.

All that asshole ever does. Pay. attention. The one time he has ever told the truth is that people can lie during M&Gs, and that's his entire grifting fandom career.

His pet spnscripthunt project others sold out to work him with has one script left, so fire away, fire away dude. From here anyone is as fair game as the next there too, and well, your wiki script source seems to have an 8 month concept delay and frankly, the fandom isn't gonna need the scripts for the near future so whatever dude.

Fandom's realizing your M&Gs are years of nonsense, your script queue old is empty and new is just you playing games with shit they coulda enjoyed back in February, lmfao fuck off. Anyway people can enjoy my film hunt tags framing out the episodes or flights in for the guys if they want.

[magnuficentwo]

1, 4, 6, 8, 9, 12 for Borderlands

[From this !] Thank u for the ask now I get to practice my VIOLENCE

1- The character everyone gets wrong

Hate hate hate hate hate how so many people write Rhys. Rhys is a character who's whole appeal {personally} is that he is very much Just Some Fucking Guy. Before the stories of Tales happened, Rhys was just some random dude who wanted to make it big, and afterwards, when he gets the opportunity to, he's still Majorly not his own person. He's influenced by the player in a meta sense, but also by Ugly John. This guy's identity is based off what the situation demands and what other people expect of him, and yet no one ever seems to acknowledge it, favoring instead his fucked up relationship with H.J as the sole atribute of his character [and this WILL pop up later trust me].

The guy has potential and the game acknowledges it (by the games own words, he rebuilt Atlas, became the CEO and even invented some cool new tech along the way), but he is NOT ALL THAT and I'm TIRED of people acting like there is that much substance to him. Just say you want the white men to kiss, stop putting on different hats on this guy and acting like hes all that

4- What was the last straw that made you finally block that annoying person?

Moxxi slander. I swear, anyone who says Mad Moxxi is "annoying" or "a bitch" is 20% of the time a misogynist and 80% of the time a Handsome Jack sympathizer who thinks that she should've had some pity on The Active Space War Criminal. And this person did exactly that so yk how it is

6- Which ship fans are most annoying ?

Rhack shippers. No doubt. Partly because of my own personal gripes with how this dude is characterized {see: number 1}, but also because it's genuinely just so boring 😭 you can write this ship a thousand different ways but ultimately it boils down to "We need these white men to kiss" and nothing else. Also the whole "this guy manipulated this other guy for the entire time they interacted and then tried to kill him" thing.

8- Common fandom opinion everyone is wrong about.

There's nobody who is good in this game I'm sorry to all apologists out there but all these guys suck ass. This isn't a competition about who's most morally correct it's about who your favorite criminal is ok

9- Worst part of canon.

The way they don't expand on lore, not even a little 😔 Please just tell me how ancient eridian people got their hands on an Atlas gun all of a sudden. Or at least tell me something about Sirens. How does the magic in this universe even happen. For the love of God HOW did Pandora GET LIKE THAT how is anyone there LIVING. PLEASE just CRUMBS OF INFORMATION you can't have me guessing everything you're presenting !!

+ How they don't expand on characters. Like come on let me hang out with these guys they're so cool :(

12- The Unpopular character you actually like and why more people should like them.

Tannis Tannis Tannis I love you cringe fail autistic woman. I don't see nearly enough appreciation for her. Matter of fact, I see a lot of people hating on my girl like :[ Leave her alone. Here's my comprehensive list of reasons why you should actually like Patricia Tannis.

1- So smart. She seems to be one of the only 5 people who know anything about the setting and who actively tell you about related history. She's one of the only sources of knowledge on Eridian culture we have in-game, which means this also extends over to Sirens, magic and the vaults. Relevant stuff yk !!! /// 2- She's COOL LOOKING okay. Her design is more down to earth and restrained compared to other characters, and it makes her stick out a little more imo. It's also just wonderfully practical which fits for her being a researcher and scientist. /// 2.5- Girl... pretty... /// 3- This woman is so autistic have I mentioned that yet. Because she is. She unfortunately does fall in some pitfalls in terms of stereotypes {I.E: nerdy personality with tendencies to be rude to people, the whole facts and logic thing, etc} but also damn she is so relatable. I too feel nauseous at the thought of a social interaction but still actively crave to have conversations with other people. I also struggle coming up with words at the time of most need. I too have like 3 people who actively take me places and make me feel comfortable (SEE: Roland, Lilith, the VH in some cases). I too humanize objects and talk to them because of loneliness. That's so true. She's so real for that.