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[basilacademia]

Little ref of my Joxter for some of my friends!

[starpens]

୨୧ㅤִㅤׄ COUGH SYRUP ― GOJO SATORU.

satoru is a bit of an idiot who will do anything to get you to speak to him after an argument.

𓈒 ݁ ₊ content ﾉ fem reader, clingy satoru, established relationship, mild argument, fluff, not proofread, randomly started missing my boy :( <3

satoru can’t function when you’re upset with him. 

he knows he should be an adult about it — he is an adult, after all. he should give you space, let you simmer down. most people do not do things such as send one hundred and fifty text messages (he counted each of ‘em; you left him on read one hundred and fifty two times. who does that?) to your phone while you’re in the middle of grocery shopping and they most definitely do not take a sick day because their significant other is mad at them. 

 but then again, satoru isn’t like most people. 

which is why he’s currently sprawled out on the sofa in the middle of the day, wrapped in your favorite throw blanket — one that still smells faintly of your perfume. tissues litter the coffee table and floor around him, an unconvincing movie set of misery. call him manipulative, but it’s the only thing he’s got left in the tank since, for the last seventy-two hours, you haven’t spoken more than five words in a sentence to him. 

you’re his main source of enrichment, his brain stimulated by your sweet kisses and good loving so when you take that away, you’re stripping away his heart and soul. he’s got nothing left. he might as well die.  

in satoru’s brain, he figures that surely, if he’s coughing up a lung, you’ll feel bad for him and start talking to him again. in sickness and in health, right? 

by the time you walk through the front door after making a quick run to the supermarket for groceries, he’s in full performance mode, clutching his stomach with a groan. 

the sound is so realistic that you feel a sudden stab of worry, wondering if he’s injured. rushing into the living room, you find all six foot three of your boyfriend balled up on the sofa, looking like walking death. 

or trying to, anyway. 

“satoru?” you ask, eyebrows arching as you set your grocery bags down on the floor, taking out your phone and glancing at the time on the lockscreen. “why are you home? it’s eleven am.” 

“baby,” he groans pitfully, looking up at you. his glacier blue eyes are red rimmed and shimmering suspiciously — like he squeezed them shut repeatedly until he got the desired effect. satoru sniffles for good measure, huddling into the blanket. “i’m sick,” he announces, his lower lip wobbling, dragging out the last syllable like it physically hurts him to say it. 

“sick? you seemed fine when i left this morning,” you say, taking a step forward. you reach out a hand, pushing back his wintery locks to check for a fever. his skin feels normal, cool to touch even. your eyes narrow. you’re dubious — satoru never gets sick, yet it is his favorite act whenever he’s in the doghouse and wants attention. that, and he’s a terrible actor. you purse your lips, irritated. this is what he does instead of just apologizing? 

“i wasn’t fine emotionally,” satoru whines back. “i’m heartbroken here. it’s debilitating my health rapidly.” 

your expression doesn’t budge and satoru’s pout deepens when he realizes you’re not buying it. he clutches the blanket tighter around his big body, exaggerating a shiver for good measure. “you’re my life force, angel. my happiness. my —”

“stop it,” you interrupt and hold up a hand, fighting the smile tugging at your lips. you’re mad at him — you are. “but let me get this straight. you called out of work because i wasn’t talking to you?” 

“it was a medical emergency. do you have any idea what it’s like to go hours without hearing you voice?! without seeing you smile at me? you wouldn’t even let me use your body wash last night so we could share the same scent. i barely survived the night. any longer and i’d be a goner,” he sighs dramatically, then remembers he’s supposed to be on his last leg and hacks, phlegm rattling in his throat. 

“you’re obsessed,” you pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to hold firm. but your damned heart has selective memory and it is making an appearance again, rapidly forgetting why you’re still mad at him. oh, you had a right to be upset over what he did, but it seems insignificant now when he’s in front of you, groveling like a servant at a throne. 

“angel, come on,” he presses, sitting up on the sofa and reaching for your hand, hurt flashing bright across his eyes when you step out of range. if you let him pull you down on that sofa with him, he’ll sweet talk his way into you forgiving him without consequences. he’ll do that anyway, but you won’t make it easy for him. “i’ll do anything to make it right.��� 

“don’t angel me. you can’t just manipulate me into forgiving you with your big pretty eyes,” you wag your finger at him. “i bet you don’t even know what you did.” 

“i know, but it’s working, ain’t it?” he grins, shamelessly dropping the congested tone in his voice. “and i know what i did,” he scoffs. “you’re mad at me about that thing.” 

yes, that thing.

two nights ago, your body pillow — your very expensive, weighted body pillow which happened to have a giant render of your boyfriend on it, went missing. you’d commissioned it to have something to cuddle with on those nights when satoru is away on business and you miss him in your shared bed an unhealthy amount. you’d become a little too attached to it, though, while satoru wanted nothing more than to burn it. 

“he has a name,” you hiss, swatting satoru’s knee as you struggle not to laugh. “don’t call mr. comf-toru-ble a thing! he’s sensitive.” 

“see?” satoru says, scrubbing a hand over his handsome face before gesturing around wildly. “you even named it.” 

you give him a sharp look. “he cost me an entire paycheck— an entire paycheck that three days ago, you gave to the garbage collectors because i was cuddling him instead of you!” 

“i was feeling neglected!” he defends, voice pitching higher in his affront, placing a hand on his chest. “you spent the whole night with it. meanwhile, i— your husband— was right there, cold and alone. i can’t let me steal my wife.”

“we’re not married, satoru,” you remind him, then pout. “unlike my husband, the pillow doesn’t hog the covers, snore, or throw out things that i really like.” 

“it’s not hogging the covers, it’s redistribution of them for my comfort,” he grins playfully, but upon seeing your serious expression, he concedes, sobering up. in truth, he knows he messed up and went too far. it was childish to throw out something that you bought because of his frequent bouts of absence. maybe if he was around more, you wouldn’t need to cuddle with body pillows that look like him. “look, baby. i’m sorry. it was a moment of weakness. it’s not everyday i gotta be in competition with myself, but i’ll make it up to you! i even ordered you another one.” 

“a moment of jealousy, you mean,” you counter, but there’s no real bite behind your tone now.

“hey, you gotta see it from my perspective though. it’s kind of crazy seeing you cuddle with a pillow that looks like me when the real thing is right here,” satoru gestures down the long line of his body, though it looks more comical than inviting when he’s wrapped like a overstuffed burrito in your throw blanket.

“mm,” you nod, “well, maybe if the ‘real thing’ is a good boy, i’ll cuddle him more often.” 

“deal,” he answers immediately and when his muscular arms shoot out from behind the blanket and reach for you this time, you let him. his arms circle around your waist, pulling you into his lap. it was just a few days of silent treatment, but satoru wastes no time tucking his face against the dip of your neck, breathing in your sweet scent like you’re something precious and rare he lost ages ago and is just discovering again after eons. 

he’s squishing you, he knows it, but god he hates it when you’re mad at him — and you, in return, hate being at odds with him too. you both make too much sense to each other to be apart, and there’s upset in the balance of the world when the two of you are in an argument. 

“worst seventy-two hours of my life,” satoru blows out a breath of relief, the air tickling the hair at the nape of your neck, drawing a shiver down your spine. “never do that to me again, angel. you hear?” 

“don’t throw out my customized satoru merch again and i won’t, baby,” you coo, smiling. 

“you’ll still choose me over the other guy though, right?” 

“we’ll see, ‘toru, we’ll see,” you answer playfully, yelping when he darts in to nip at your ear in retaliation.

getting comfortable in satoru’s lap, you lean in to put the both of you out of your miseries and forgive him with a kiss when you get a whiff of menthol and childhood memories wafting from his chest.

 “are you wearing vaporub?”

[majorsarcasm842]

Who needs therapy when you have a sweater on?

Anyway this is adorable and I love it :)

If he can't get a therapist, then he might as well get a sweater

[moonstruckme]

Ok, your little jily about hypothermia gave me the urge to see :

The reaction to the marauders to you falling through the ice. Like you were skating on the Black Lake with Sirius and James because they convinced you (against you initial worry) while Remus stands off to the side and watches (the most unsure and worried of them)

And I can see James and Sirius trying to race each other as you try to get a hand of ice skating. Then a crack and you fall through.

It’s like you know that scene with Amy in Little woman

I would totally get if you don’t like it since you’ve just written a similar one.

Your work is amazing ! Hope everything is ok for you ❤️

Thank you lovely <3

cw: ice skating trauma?

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

It’s just like Sirius and James to goad you out onto the lake and then get bored of you when--as you tried to warn them—you can’t skate. James is fizzing with energy, promising to come back as soon as he makes one quick round of the cove, and of course when he challenges Sirius to a race your boyfriend is too competitive to decline. 

They take off at light speed, blades schwicking across the dark ice. Remus, sitting bundled up on land, eyes you worriedly over the top of his book. 

“Be careful,” he warns, not for the first time. 

You are nervous, with no handholds and no boyfriends to help you, but you’re eager to reassure him. “Don’t worry.” You smile. “I’m not going to go racing after them.” 

Remus returns your smile, and, mollified, returns to his book. 

The ice on the Black Lake is far from pristine. There are dips and ridges, and soon you find yourself being channeled down curving paths away from the shore, hardly moving your skates and arms out to your sides for balance. The ice beneath your feet begins to look darker, less of the frosty sheen or slashes from other skates. It feels smoother, too. 

You let yourself glide forward, raising your head to see if any of your boyfriends are looking to witness your success. The first crack is a light sound. Almost negligible, but it gets your attention. You scream as the ice falls out from beneath you. 

The cold shocks you down to your bones, freezing the blood in your veins and pressing in on your lungs. Instinct propels you upwards. 

“H—help!” 

Your voice is a tight cry. The air doesn’t feel much better, colder even, but you try to stay above the surface, the blades on your feet slicing uselessly through the water below. Each time you try to grasp at a piece of ice and pull yourself onto it, it breaks away. Your breaths are gasping, panicked puffs that send white clouds into the air in front of you. 

You can hear your boyfriends shouting. 

“Pads, wait—wait—” 

Sirius is crawling towards you on the ice, another shape moving quickly in your direction. 

“Accio branch!” 

James tosses the long stick to Sirius, who holds it out for you to grab onto. The bark bites into your palms, but you don’t let go as both boys use it to drag you out, ice jutting into your middle. As soon as you’re out to your hip you’re in Sirius’ embrace, his strong arms bringing you closer and helping you pull your legs from the water. 

“You’re okay,” he says, firmly. As though daring anyone to prove him wrong. “You’re okay, baby, we’ve got you. We have you.” 

James and Sirius keep you tucked between them, pushing you on dripping skates and wobbly legs to the edge of the lake. Remus looks like he tried to come out wearing his shoes. His face has drained of its wintery flush, brow set tense with worry. 

Sirius helps him back to the shore, but not before Remus casts a warming charm on you. You give an odd shiver at the change. 

“How’s that, angel?” James scrubs a hand up and down your arm. His voice is light, but its lightness is so forced and so different from his exuberant tone of a few minutes ago. 

Remus pulls you into a hug as you start to cry. Tiny sobs mixed with shivers, your frame shaking in every way possible. Remus holds you securely to him as he lowers you both to the ground. He casts another warming charm for good measure. 

“You’re lucky she didn’t get dragged under by the grindylows,” he says with your head tucked beneath his chin. He sounds angry, but it’s quickly succumbing to weariness. His arms wind around you tighter. 

“We didn’t know she’d try and go into the middle!” Sirius argues as he kneels beside you, James at his side. Your boyfriend’s face is lined with guilt as he reaches for you, unsticking a damp piece of hair from your cheek. 

“How was she supposed to know?”

“Sorry,” you offer wobbily. Each of them makes some sound of sympathy. 

“No, sweetheart, it’s not your fault,” Remus soothes, covering your cheek with his warm hand. James rubs up your calf from your ankle as though he intends to warm you inch by inch. “It was only your first time, you couldn’t have known.” 

“Yeah,” James agrees, “you’re fine, lovie. Nobody said for you to be sorry.” 

You try on a smile. There’s snot frozen above your top lip. “So I can only be sorry when you say?” 

“Yes,” says Sirius, very seriously. 

He grins when you laugh. Remus cracks, too, and James looks relieved at no longer being scolded. Sirius smooths another piece of hair from your face, looking at you carefully. 

“You okay, baby?” 

“I’m okay,” you confirm. “The warming charms are helping a lot. Thanks, Rem.” 

“That’s our Moony.” Sirius smiles at him, clearly eager to be back in your boyfriend’s good graces. “Always knows the perfect spell.” 

“You know that one, too,” Remus grumbles as James starts to unlace your skates for you. “You could’ve done it the moment you got her out.” 

“Ah, but we’re not all as quick on our feet as you, you swot.” 

“Do you think you can walk back inside?” James asks you, slipping your shoes on. “One of us could go get some tea from the great hall while you warm up in the common room.” 

“Fuck that,” says Sirius. “I know where Slughorn keeps his nice cocoa now. I’d say we’re entitled to some of that after our trials.” 

“One of us is,” Remus corrects him drily. 

“Right, then.” James takes your hands, standing you up slowly and fitting an arm around your waist for support. If the wet of your clothes chills him, he doesn’t complain. “We’ll pilfer enough of Slughorn’s cocoa for one person, and you’ll be good as new by dinner.” 

“I already feel okay,” you try to reassure him. 

“Shh, shh.” Remus takes you by the hand, squeezing gently. “Don’t correct them. Take your dues.”

[always-just-red]

Merry Christmas, guys!!! Ok, so this is a day early, but I wanted to say thanks to you all with a feel-good follow-up to my Game Night fic! So, here: a Christmas Eve sleepover with the boys, and they’re on their VERY best behaviour this time, I promise 😌

The Night Before Christmas

L&DS Boys X Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Summary: It’s time to get the gang back together!!!

Genre: Fluff + humour

Warnings/Additional Tags: gn!reader, kinda poly? but mostly platonic, a lil bit of wholesome intimacy, one particularly suggestive joke from Sylus (he can’t help himself), also probably needs another proofread but my eyes are tired 💀

| Word count: 4.8k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Right! Let’s try this again.”

You glance around your living room with your hands on your hips, channelling your inner Captain Jenna as you fight to suppress flashbacks that verge on traumatic.

Some of this is exactly the same as last time. Sylus is sprawled in the same spot on your couch, looking inordinately pleased with himself for someone who has only just arrived. The very image of smugness; you immediately suspect that something is horribly wrong, or on track to go horribly wrong. You glance to the other couch, where Xavier and Rafayel sit, equally braced for your presentation. Neither one has been teleported to the roof of your building.

Sylus is reading your relief, and he gives you an exclusive smile, as if to say: yet.

Try not to think about it.

You stand by a large drawing pad— currently flipped closed to create a suspense that only Xavier has bought into. He gives you an eager nod, the blue of his eyes warm and encouraging.

The faces around you haven’t changed, but your little apartment has. Strings of twinkling lights run around your walls, casting faint, festive glows. There’s frost on your windows. Littered everywhere are ornaments: small, glittery birds and wintery creatures. Lots of snowman plushies, courtesy of a few, dedicated arcade expeditions with your favourite doctor.

New season, new start.

“We all remember how this went last time,” you push on finally. “Mistakes were made. Shit happened. Whatever— we’re not gonna dwell on it.”

Sylus lifts his hand. “I, for one, would enjoy a reminder of said mistakes.”

“Motion denied,” you dismiss with a grin and a customer-service enthusiasm that screams: don’t fuck with me right now. Sylus’s eyes sparkle, like embers anxious to become something brighter— more destructive. Don’t think about it. “It wasn’t my fault. You outnumbered me four-to-one that night, which is why my first order of business today is to appoint a co-host.”

Rafayel’s hand shoots into the air. You look at him incredulously. Zayne is stood beside you, his arms folded, and everyone else in the room has connected those particular dots.

“It’s Zayne, Rafayel,” you sigh. 

“What?!” He sits up straighter. “Why him?! What are his qualifications, huh? His credentials?”

“I’ve never set the kitchen on fire,” Zayne says.

The artist scoffs, adds under his breath: “Turned it into an ice rink, though.”

There’s a chuckle from Sylus, and a part of you feels bad, pitting Zayne against the others like this. But he’s not alone. He has you, just you, so you should probably do something. “That actually brings me really nicely to my next point, Raf, thank you.”

Unexpected praise. Rafayel stutters, a faint blush to his cheeks, and you take full advantage of having staggered him. “Zayne, do you wanna…?”

“Of course.” The dark-haired man adjusts his glasses, then addresses the rest of the room. “In the interest of everyone’s safety, we have devised a few rules to be adhered to for the rest of the evening. These will be enforced by a point system, which we will record… here.”

He flips the drawing pad open, and a blank table fills the top half of the page. Each quarter has been assigned a name. “Basically—” you gesture to it— “three strikes and you’re out.”

None of your guests look perturbed by this.

“The first rule is simple,” Zayne explains, pulling away a strip of paper from the bottom of the page, then reading the writing underneath: “No unauthorised use of Evols.”

Rafayel’s hand shoots up again. You tilt your head at it. “Yes, Raf?”

“Ok, so what if there’s a power-cut or something? Lights are out. Heating’s out. Big disaster, yeah? You’re saying I couldn’t—?” He clicks his fingers, spawning a small flame.

“We would use my Evol,” Xavier says with the gentle authority he uses to steer civilians away from a Wanderer incursion. “It’s safer.”

The flame is snuffed out. Rafayel huffs: “Don’t you use it to, like, kill things?”

“Yeah…” Xavier shrugs. “Bad things.”

“Second rule!” you chime.  

“Second rule,” Zayne echoes, peeling back the next strip of paper. There’s absolutely no showmanship, nor energy at all as he continues, “No unauthorised sarcasm.”

Another hand raises. “What would be authorised sarcasm?” Xavier asks, squinting as though he can’t quite figure it out on his own.

You purse your lips in thought. “If it makes me laugh?”

Rafayel is stroking his chin, his eyes narrowed, because he’s also thinking. “High risk, high reward,” he muses, and you shoot him a smile.

This is going better than you thought it would, actually. If you were to turn a few more pages of the drawing pad, you would see crude illustrations of the worst-case scenarios you’d sketched out for Zayne earlier. There’s one where Rafayel is trying to strangle Sylus with Christmas lights. There’s another where Zayne has turned you all into snowmen.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, though. The evening is young, and the snowman scenario is still very much on the table.

Culprit of about ninety percent of your nightmarish visions and drawings— Sylus has been unnervingly silent. You meet eyes with him, an inherent mistrust in your gaze. The success of this sweet, humble Christmas Eve hinges on you figuring out what he’s here for. His agenda. His ulterior motives.

What does he want from tonight? He smirks at you. You’re vaguely competent, and you can figure it out without him holding your hand, can’t you?

That reminds you of something. “Zayne.” You jostle your co-host by his arm. “Do the last rule!”

You’re excited about the last rule.

Zayne isn’t; he hesitates. “The last rule…” He rubs at the back of his neck. “It’s… it’s only applicable to you, Sylus.”

Sylus is now also excited about the last rule. You can tell from the way his lips part, for a second, like he wants to tell you just how flattered he is you spend so much of your time thinking about him.

You put Zayne out of his misery, tearing the final strip of paper away from the pad. The paper flutters to the ground like a very plain snowflake, and you wiggle your fingers, adorning the final rule with a touch of pizazz:

No smirking, sass, or general smugness.

A corner of Sylus’s mouth lifts. “Believe it or not, kitten, your little point system doesn’t scare me.”

You pick up the pen and score a mark under his name.

“Oh no,” he mutters lifelessly.

“Sarcasm!” Rafayel coughs.

You’re well ahead of him, already turning to make another mark. “Gods,” you hear Sylus grimace, not much more than a whisper, “you’re such a boy scout.”

There’s a snort from Rafayel. “Sorry, say that again? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of you totally getting kicked out of here.”

“Sarcasm,” Sylus says.

“Wait, I didn’t mean— no!”

You giggle as you issue Rafayel’s first strike, and he groans behind you, slumping down in his seat. When you turn back around, his face is buried in his hands.

Sylus is smirking again, but the expression drops the moment he senses your gaze. You both know what’s at stake here. Back in the N109 Zone, Luke and Kieran are lamenting the fact that you’ve stolen their leader— it’s not very Christmassy of you, after all. There were a lot of things they wanted to do with him. Snowball fights, presents, and a heist that required disguises: Santa and his two, hard-working elves. They already have the suit, custom-made for him.

So here is the big, bad boss of Onychinus, hiding in your apartment, and definitely not smirking.

You pop the lid back onto your pen, then post it into your pocket like you’re holstering an all-powerful weapon. That’s one point to you and Zayne, and zero points to Sylus, thank you very much.

…

“What are you doing?”

Sylus sighs, evading a furious lilac gaze while he focuses on the task at hand. Freshly escaped from you and the doctor’s terrifying lecture, he’s making the most of his liberty.

“What I am doing,” he mumbles, tying string around a sprig of mistletoe, “is between me and our charming host. Run along, little artist.” He tightens the knot. “This doesn’t concern you.”

Rafayel crosses his arms, his eyes dark. “You’re cheating.”

“Ha.” Sylus spares him a glance out of pity. “You’re jealous.”

“Am not.”

He definitely is, but Sylus doesn’t have time for this game. He can hear you in your bedroom, rooting around for the phone charger you’d vanished in search of. Your door isn’t closed, but it’s closed enough. You can’t see him. He can’t see you. What a perfect opportunity.

“Give it to me,” Rafayel says— an interruption that warrants a roll of the eyes.

“No.”

“Give it—“ the artist starts again, then makes a grab for the mistletoe. Now that’s jealousy. He could incinerate the plant with a click of his fingers, but no, he wants it. Covets it.

Sylus chuckles quietly, his arm stretching up: holding the mistletoe out of an ever-more desperate reach.

To Rafayel’s credit, he persists. He goes up on his toes, tugging at the older man’s sleeve to try and drag the mistletoe closer. The plant evaporates in a swirl of dark energy the second he succeeds. It materialises behind Sylus’s back, in his other hand, and Rafayel realises instantly. He tries to stretch his arms around him. To take it from him.

“Absolutely not!”

Sylus’s fingers are suddenly empty. Mistletoe-less. He turns reluctantly, still holding Rafayel back.

You stand at your wide-open door, one hand on your hips and the other clutching his confiscated item. You’re frowning. Tapping your foot. Your lips are pursed adorably.

“What a coincidence, kitten,” Sylus smiles, and behind him, Rafayel pokes his tongue out, overcome with nausea. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Clearly.” You jostle the mistletoe, looking… disappointed? Huh. “Never thought I’d catch you indulging an old cliche.”

Sylus shrugs charmingly, like a cat performing a leisurely stretch after toppling a vase from a very high shelf.

“Give me the rest of it,” you command.

“Hmm?”

“The back-up mistletoe, Sy. I’m not an idiot.”

Sylus scoffs, but you do have him wrapped oh so prettily around your finger. He rolls his neck, stalling. If giving up were a slope, he would already be a heap at the bottom of it, but he doesn’t really mind. Three more sprigs of mistletoe appear from thin air, dropping into your open hands.

“Honestly, Sylus,” you groan, stepping past him. Then you thrust the plants to the artist’s chest. “Burn these, Raf.” You’re dusting your hands down as you walk away.

Sylus frowns. That’s neither ideal nor part of the plan.

Rafayel is looking at him, telling him with gloating silence that there’s no playing diplomat, here— no negotiating the return of the hostages. That bridge has been— rather fittingly— burned. The mistletoe turns slowly to ash: darkened by licks of flame that curl with the eager spite of their master’s lips.

It would be beautiful if it wasn’t so damned inconvenient. When the fire’s had its fun, one sprig of mistletoe remains, rich green and ivory— wholly untouched. You’re across the room, talking to Zayne, so Rafayel smirks in triumph. Tucks his prize into his pocket.

Sylus’s heart sinks with it, but he still smiles back.

…

Rafayel isn’t looking too good.

Well, the Rafayel is looking fine, but your Rafayel? Not so much. You steal a glance at the artist across the cluttered kitchen island; he’s sat, leaning, propped up on his elbows, his eyes glazed— he’s clearly away with the fishies. He catches you staring. Gives you a wink.

You glance down at the gingerbread man you’ve been decorating: the blue-pink of his iced eyes, and the mess of purple hair, at least three shades too dark. Oh, gods— probably a million shades too dark through the gaze of a Lemurian. At least the outfit is cute? You’ve recreated Rafayel’s signature cardigan. The plaid pattern isn’t quite straight, but that was a… deliberate choice. This is your interpretation of his cardigan, and you wanted it to reflect its owner. A little all over the place, but still, you love it. Even when it’s coming undone, it keeps you warm.

“Would you like to go next?”

Zayne is talking to you, smiling at you. He was the first to reveal his gingerbread creation: a miniature Xavier that was surprisingly true to life. Your hunting partner had almost glowed with delight, while you were dark with jealousy. The biscuit sits before you all, boasting details that could only be achieved with an exceedingly steady hand.

Worse: Rafayel’s gingerbread is next to it, stupidly, predictably perfect. It’s Zayne. It’s really Zayne, from the sweep of black hair to the hazel eyes; how on earth did he manage to make that colour? The tiny doctor is dressed in his lab coat, sporting his badge and a pocketful of even tinier pens and medical instruments. There’s… shading? Ugh, you can see the creases in the fabric.

“Umm… sure, I can go next,” you mumble.

It was just your luck, pulling Rafayel’s name out of that hat. Sheepishly, you move aside the cookbook you’d stood to guard your project from any prying eyes. Your gingerbread is nudged forwards.

“That’s me!” Rafayel exclaims.

“Yeah…” you confirm half-heartedly. “Sorry, I know it’s not great, but I—”

Lack the skill of a celebrity artist, or the steady hands of a cardiac surgeon? You have no idea which exact pool of self-pity your sentence was set on drowning within, but it doesn’t matter. Rafayel has plucked your gingerbread up for a closer look, and his smile is enormous. “This is amazing!”

“You don’t have to—”

“That’s my cardigan!” He’s crashing the pity party again. “And look at my eyes— the colours! This little guy is so handsome, yeah? You really did me justice, cutie. Look at him!”

He holds the gingerbread up to his face, trying to match its two-dimensional grin. He looks around for affirmation, and it’s just his luck, because is a single man at this table ever going to insult your hard work?

“The eyes are amazing,” Xavier enthuses. “Like the sky at sunset. Who knew my partner was so talented?”

“I did,” Rafayel chirps happily.

Xavier frowns. “No, it was rhetori— never mind.” He smiles at you. Rolls with it. “I knew too, by the way.”

“As did I,” Zayne adds.

Everyone looks at Sylus, who shrugs a shoulder and says, “It was up for debate.”

“Can we please move onto the next person?” you press. This is all too much attention. “Sylus, can you… please?”

He does like it when you beg, but he likes it even more when he can play knight in shining armour. “My pleasure, sweetie.”

For a man whose creative side is mostly indulged by vintage gun restorations, he reveals his gingerbread with a staggering amount of confidence. It’s placed at the centre of the kitchen island, where you all stare down at it. Its hair is snow-white, and its eyes: blood-red.

“That’s…” Zayne begins.

“That’s you, Sylus!” you take-over, voice shrill with betrayal. “You were supposed to say something if you picked yourself! And you— wait, what are…?” There are distinct lines over the gingerbread’s midriff. It dawns on you: “Are those abs?!”

Sylus shrugs again.

“They so are!” You snatch up the biscuit, standing to wave it in Sylus’s face like a crime-scene photo. “Where’s his shirt, huh?”

“He lost it.”

“Bullshit!” you snap. This gingerbread competition had come with its own set of rules, one of which was very clearly: “Nothing obscene! I said nothing obscene, Sylus!”  

He leans away from you with a tut. “It’s tasteful, sweetie. The artist will tell you.”

“The artist is staying out of this,” Rafayel murmurs, off to your side.

Sylus crosses his arms, regardless, as though his case has been made. You cross your arms too.

“Can I show you my gingerbread now?” Xavier asks, and his tone is deceivingly soft: a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back.

You release the tension in your body with a sigh, then set the gingerbread down so you can’t throw it at Sylus’s un-smug face (which he’s been very careful about.) “Of course, Xavier,” you smile, slinking back onto your stool. You can throw something at Sylus later. “Ooh, is it me? It has to be me, right?”

Xavier chuckles awkwardly. “It’s you. I don’t think it’s very good, though.”

“Show me!” you insist.

The final cookbook is removed, and Xavier unveils his hard work. You clamp a hand to your mouth.

You don’t have a single word for what you’re looking at— only laughter, and you can’t let yourself laugh, no matter what. If that gingerbread is you? Then it’s a you who’s been torn apart by Wanderers, at least seven consecutive times. Your face is a swirl of colours and features— you think Xavier must have tried to wipe it off to start again, more than once, but it hasn’t worked.

The gingerbread has been broken, too. Three of the four limbs, to be exact, and that you could forgive, but… did he have to use dark red icing to glue them back on? It drips out of the joins messily, almost making you wince.

Everyone is silent.

“A perfect likeness,” says Sylus.

You burst out laughing, and the moment you do, Rafayel’s right there with you. Even Sylus caves— it’s one of the most sincere laughs you’ve ever heard from him. There are tears in your eyes; you can’t help it. Zayne is the strongest of you, but even the tight line of his mouth quivers. He’s biting his lip.

But it’s fine. Xavier is laughing, too. “I said it wasn’t very good!”

“Xavier!” you wheeze. You can’t even look at him. Your stomach hurts. “What… what happened to me?!”

“What do you mean?” he practically giggles.

“What do I mean?” you repeat, and it tips you into another breathless bout of laughter. You go to point at the gingerbread— all the explanation you need— but it almost kills you. You really can’t breathe. After half a minute, you try again. “I look like I’ve been in an accident!”

“Here,” Rafayel grins, and he slides the Doctor Zayne gingerbread over to poor, suffering gingerbread you.

“Aww!” you smile, having finally caught your breath.

Wordlessly, Zayne retrieves his likeness— pulling it away from yours. You frown at him, as confused and wounded as Xavier apparently imagines you. “Even I have my limits,” the doctor shrugs.

That’s it. You’re gone again, your sides aching as your whole body shakes with laughter. It’s too much. Gods, it’s too much. You’re gonna need another minute.

…

“I can’t believe you made you.”

It’s been fifteen or so minutes, and you toy with Sylus’s gingerbread counterpart, pinching his hands between your thumbs and forefingers— making him walk (well, penguin waddle) across the kitchen island.

“Believe it, sweetie,” Sylus huffs with a smile.

“Is this really how you see yourself?”

Before you can walk the gingerbread any further, his creator plucks him up by his head, away from your reaching fingers. “It’s how I think you should see me,” he chuckles. He holds the gingerbread out to you. Wiggles it. “For your eyes only, kitten.”

“Except the other guys saw it—”

“Shhhh, shh shh!” In his haste to silence you, he almost pushes the gingerbread to your lips.

You glare at him. Complain from behind it: “Get your shirtless abs out of my face, Sylus.”

“Make me.”

You snatch the gingerbread, pinning it down on the counter. “Keep pushing your luck, Sy. Wanna see what’ll happen?”

He absolutely does, and his eyes glint with mirth as you reach for a near-empty bowl of crimson icing. You scrape some of it up with a discarded teaspoon, then let it drip generously over his gingerbread. It takes a few, long seconds to really cover him in it. To make him look as fatally tragic as gingerbread you.

“Here,” you say, dropping the spoon in a bowl with a satisfied clink. You hold out the gingerbread. “This’ll be you when I’m done with you.”

Sylus regards it for a moment, his eyebrow quirked. Then his eyes find your gingerbread likeness. “Want to see what you’ll look like when I’m done with you?”

His hand goes out for the bowl of red icing, except… it goes past the bowl of red icing, and lands on a tube of white icing instead. He holds it up with a smile.

“Inappropriate.”

The tube is swept out of his fingers, and he blinks at the empty space, legitimately surprised.

“It was snow, doctor,” he remarks bitterly, once he’s recovered from the second ambush of the evening. He glances over his shoulder. “From a snowball fight?”

“Sure it was,” Zayne mutters, already turning back to the bowl he’s washing in the sink.

Sylus is frowning, affronted, but the expression softens when you’re filling his gaze again. You: your hands on your mouth, so close to spilling laughter. “Oooooh,” you tease with a secretive sing-song voice, “you got in trouble!”

He wrinkles his nose like ‘trouble’ is an insult. It sets you off sniggering uncontrollably.

“What did I miss?”

It’s Xavier, back from the lounge.

“Nothing,” Sylus answers.

“He got in trouble!” you counteract with a not-at-all quiet whisper.  

You earn a glare from the criminal, and a little laugh from the hunter. “Third-strike trouble?” the latter enquires. He might have handcuffs on stand-by; it wouldn’t surprise you.

“Not yet,” you grin cheerfully.  

Zayne sets a plate on the drying rack. “Give it time.”

…

“I don’t think we have enough, sweetie,” Sylus quips, peeking over the stack of blankets you’ve piled high on his arms. 

What was it Rafayel said? High risk, high reward? You mercifully chuckle. Your arms are wrapped around three, plush cushions— the last of your sleepover supplies. Snacks? Are ready. Guests? Haven’t killed each-other yet. You toe open your bedroom door, shouldering the rest of the way through with your missing puzzle pieces of luxury.

“Oh, nice!” someone exclaims from the kitchen. Xavier is watching you, starry-eyed, and his cheeks are full; he’s midway through a cookie.

Sylus steps through the door behind you, issuing a faint noise of disgust. He sounds like he’s being attacked by a bug, so you turn around, ready to leap to the rescue. He’s stood within the door frame, eyes cast upwards to where a sprig of mistletoe hangs on the end of a string. It’s swaying gently; he must have caught his head on it. You frown, lips parted. He was with you the whole time you were looting your bedroom. When did he…? How did he…?

He looks down at you, the mistletoe still hovering above him. You raise an eyebrow, waiting for the inevitable joke, or the even more inevitable invitation. 

“I…’ he starts gingerly, “I didn’t…” 

Oh. He’s just as confused as you are, and it’s… really cute. He’s lost for words— the man who came here with not one, but four sprigs of mistletoe. The man who threatened your gingerbread with white icing. The man who’s spent the entire evening thinking about how he wants to be close to you.

Sylus laughs, but it’s full of nervousness. “It’s alright,” he says, “you don’t have to—”

You tilt him towards you, your hand on his shoulder and cushions around your feet. “Merry Christmas, Sy,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his cheek. It’s warm on your lips.

His eyes flutter closed. “Merry Christmas,” he breathes, barely more than a whisper. 

You hum contentedly as you pull away from him. When his eyes reopen, they’re warm with a nostalgia you cannot explain, but you can feel, too— so inexplicably. His gaze is blood-red, but it makes you think of flowers. 

What a funny feeling. It strikes you a lot, nowadays, and not just with the man in front of you. 

Speaking of the others, you glance towards your lounge. Xavier is telling Zayne a story, and Rafayel is watching you from over the back of the sofa— turning away when you spot him. That’s one mystery solved. You collect the cushions from the floor, sparing Sylus a smile before you meander back to your party. The coffee table’s a banquet of sweet, sugary snacks, so you carefully skirt past it.

Xavier’s hands grab at air. You laugh and toss him a cushion. “Thanks,” he grins. 

“Here— your favourite.” Zayne is pointing at your freshly-filled mug, and you grin your own thank you as you settle down next to him. 

Sylus soon arrives too, handing out blankets, and for all the evening’s animosity, he gets a grateful smile for each. He sits down next to Xavier, and it’s odd, you know? You’ve slain Wanderers, saved lives with every person around you. You’ve seen them bleed and kill.

They’re all wrapping themselves up, like snuggly little Christmas presents. Xavier’s managed to collect another cushion— from Zayne, maybe?— and he’s practically building a fort on his side of the couch. Some of it infringes on Sylus’s space, and you notice him notice, but he doesn’t say a word. Oblivious, tucked under two blankets, Xavier’s already looking sleepy. 

Someone’s making less of an effort to get comfortable. On the other side of you, Rafayel sits, uncharacteristically quiet. He hasn’t met your eyes since you sat down. You remember him, watching you under the mistletoe from across the room, and the thought has you leaning in closer. 

“That was sweet of you,” you whisper, even though he disobeyed you. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shrugs.

But he does, so you kiss his cheek, ever so fondly, with that funny feeling in your chest again. It’s the first time, but it doesn’t strike you as such. Uncharted waters, a foreign land— when have I been here before?

Rafayel has relaxed: sunken deep into the sofa and the security of your touch. You smile, pulling his blanket up higher around him— tighter around him— until he’s as much of a cocoon as everyone else. His lips curve with a smile of surrender, ever-willingly captured. Silly fish. 

You draw away from him, readjusting in your seat until you’re cuddled up next to Zayne. You don’t see the wink Rafayel shoots Sylus, or the look of begrudging respect in the latter’s red eyes. 

“Are you comfortable?” Zayne asks, head angling towards yours. 

Co-host to co-host. “Yeah.” You snuggle closer to him. “This is kinda perfect, isn’t it?” He feels cold, despite his Sylus-issued blanket, so you lend him part of yours.

“No,” he confers softly, distractedly. 

“No?”

“No.” He gives you a look, and you know it as intimately as the chill of his hands and the warmth of his heart. His ‘I know something that you don’t’ look. Sure enough, he says: “I think it’s missing something.” 

On the other sofa, Xavier is beaming at you, having caught onto your conversation. It’s suspicious— harmless conspiracy, surprise-party sort of suspicious, but your pulse still picks up. 

“Close your eyes,” Zayne instructs. 

And you do, without question. Darkness, yes, but you’re under his care, aren’t you? There’s no anxiousness in your excitement, just trust for the man who was looking out for you long before he was your doctor. Your hands are over your eyes and you’re younger, again, playing hide-and-seek, again.

Zayne’s is a familiarity you can place. A nostalgia built on memories, not reveries.

Something icy touches your hand, then melts without any resistance. 

“Open,” Zayne prompts, leaning against you to stir you. 

Your apartment has changed again. The lights are all out, save for the fairy lights. The spectrum of colours flicker from the walls and the tree, catching on tiny, white specs in the air. Snowflakes are drifting down, impossibly. Falling, dancing— maybe a bit of both. You look up and some land on your face, cold with their kisses. You giggle in delight. 

Everyone’s gaze is on the ceiling: sapphire, emerald, amethyst, ruby. It ought to be dark. Instead, an entire night sky fills the space above you, scattered with thousands of stars. Every pinprick is deliberate. Meticulously placed. There are constellations— infinite patterns that transcend every life you might’ve lead, and every life you’ll ever lead (if you believe in that sort of thing.)

Xavier glances at you, and you forgo the spell of his masterpiece so that you can glance back. Snowflakes are in his hair, dusting him with sparkles. He smiles in a way you think could defy lifetimes, too. 

“This is… really something,” Sylus says, and there’s not a hint of sarcasm. 

It’s everything. The stars, brighter for darkness. The snow, only novel in warmth. These things don’t always work— they’ll undo each-other, overpower each-other, but there’s an ultimate balance, in-between every conflict. An occasional harmony, and it’s… 

Perfect. 

Rafayel scoots close to you. “Was this authorised?” he whispers. 

You look over to the point board, where there are first strikes beneath Zayne and Xavier’s names, and you don’t know how long they’ve been there. 

“No,” you laugh tenderly. “No, it wasn’t.”

[nylqnder]

🎄 ₊˚⟡ ୧ 𝑪𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬𝑹'𝑺 𝑻𝑾𝑬𝑳𝑽𝑬 𝑫𝑨𝒀𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑪𝑯𝑹𝑰𝑺𝑻𝑴𝑨𝑺 ⌇

— since my cozytober event was a hit, i'm going to be doing a holiday's version of the event! these are all sfw fics + blurbs that center around the holidays. hope you guys enjoy!

december 1st — GINGERBREAD WARS, rutger mcgroarty ⤷ you and rutger get into a not-so-friendly gingerbread house building competition.

december 3rd — CAPTAIN CHRISTMAS, ryan leonard ⤷ you and ryan decorate your home for the holiday season, only for ryan to find out your particularity when it comes to your ornaments

december 5th — SKATING LESSONS, will smith ⤷ growing up in california, hockey and skating was not something you came by often. now, dating will, he decides to bring it in to your life and teach you to skate

december 8th — CHRISTMAS TREE FARM, kirby dach ⤷ yours and kirby's first christmas in your new house kicks off as you search for the perfect tree

december 10th — UNDER THE MISTLETOE, andrei svechnikov

⤷ after months of flirting, a serendipitous encounter under the mistletoe forces you and andrei to confront the undeniable feelings you've been carefully avoiding.

december 12th — CHRISTMAS PJ'S, arber xhekaj ⤷ never one to cave to your antics, arber finally does when you buy matching christmas pyjamas for the two of you.

december 15th — SNOW DAY, gabe perreault ⤷ amid a surprise snowstorm, you and gabe ditch class to revel in the magic of a wintery afternoon

december 17th — SECRET SANTA, quinn hughes ⤷ during a christmas party, an unexpected gift rekindles a cherished memory and leads to a heartfelt confession under the quiet glow of city lights.

december 19th — HO HO HO, cole caufield ⤷ cole draws the short straw and has to dress as santa claus for the team party

december 22nd — FIRST SNOWFALL, jamie drysdale ⤷ after moving to philadelphia, you get your first snowy christmas, so jamie takes you outside to fully introduce you to snow.

december 24th — 3, 2, 1!, luke hughes ⤷ amidst the glittering chaos of a new year's eve party, you attempt to find closure with the boy you've been crushing on since you came to new jersey.

december 25th — CHRISTMAS MORNING, jack hughes ⤷ a cozy christmas morning unfolds for yours and jacks family.

[sparrowlucero]

Hello sorry I am being shy and anon but do you have any advice for someone who wants to get into Doctor Who again after briefly dabbling (and enjoying it very much) in like the early, early 2010s? I know this is mostly your art blog but you were the only person I could think of to ask you're like the Doctor Who authority of blogs I follow

Oh yeah of course! People can be really confusing about this so I'll try not to be.

So first, the majority of doctor who episodes are self contained stories that you could just watch and understand perfectly without any further context. even when there is some overarching context it's usually written in a way that's either pretty easy to glean and/or just doesn't impact your understanding of the story. 99% of the episodes don't even care if you know the premise and are just like "what if some people were on a spaceship and the devil was there? wouldn't that be fucked up or what??". Don't feel like you have to binge a 60 years long show to watch it. Some standalone episodes I think are fun if you (or anyone else) just want to check out one or two:

The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances (A supposed-to-be-dead boy in a gas mask haunts a young woman in world war 2)

Blink (A woman gets wrapped up in a mystery involving statues that make people disappear. This one is especially good if you flat out know nothing about the show. Has some really great time travel stuff.)

A Christmas Carol (A christmas carol pastiche (of course) where the doctor tries to rewrite the past of a cruel man who's going to let a lot of people die. very sad and sweet. I love the "wintery planet with sky fish" setting of this one)

Vincent and the Doctor (The famous Vincent Van Gogh Episode™)

The Rings of Akhatan (A pretty lowkey little adventure story about an alien festival. has supreme autumn vibes)

Flatline (A species from a 2 dimensional world tries to break into our 3 dimensional one. really fun special effects)

Midnight (A tour bus breaks down on a diamond planet where nothing can survive. Something knocks at the door.)

Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead (The Doctor and friend go to a library that covers an entire planet and finds that everyone has disappeared. Has a lot of really great, interesting concepts baked into it that I won't spoil)

It Takes You Away (A girl is left alone in a cabin in the woods when her dad disappears through the mirror. Has a famously goofy ending that I really love)

73 Yards (A character is steps on a fairy circle and is followed by an old woman who always stands exactly 73 yards away)

The Devil's Chord (This doesn't really have, you know, a plot, but it does have jinkx monsoon as an evil music god)

Boom (The doctor steps on a landmine on an alien planet and cannot move)

Wild Blue Yonder (A two hander where the Doctor and co are trapped on a dilapidated spaceship at the edge of the universe. really atmospheric with some fun/strange visuals.)

That being said, it does add a lot to watch it in order; there's a lot of plot twists, character dynamics, and general payoff you get if you marathon it. I would personally recommend starting with either the first episode of the 2005 show ("Rose") or the first episode of the 2010 season ("The Eleventh Hour") and just watching in order from there. I think you could also start with "The Snowmen", "The Pilot", or "The Woman Who Fell To Earth" if you wanted, but the first two (especially rose) are the better jumping on points.

some other little notes of advice I don't often see people mention:

it's stupid sometimes just roll with it

once in a while the show sort of "reboots" with different writers, actors, directors, and a new tone. it's much more like watching several small shows than one long show, so don't be too put off by the length!

IMPORTANT: pretty much all streaming services will separate holiday/anniversary specials from the show proper and you have to deliberately search them up on the same service to find them. It's really necessary to be aware of this because many of these specials are the first or last episodes for characters/whole eras of the show and are genuinely unskippable. I strongly recommend looking up a list of the episodes and checking it after finales just to make sure you don't skip anything on accident.

there's two spin offs (Torchwood, a more adult (read: gay sex) show about a mysterious agency that solves sci fi crimes, and the Sarah Jane Adventures, a pretty good monster of the week kids show) that ran concurrently with season 1-4. You don't have to watch them to understand anything happening in doctor who, but sometimes they cross over with the show in fun ways, Ex. the first season finale of Torchwood continues directly into season 3 of Doctor Who. My friend and I got a kick out of watching them at the same time so maybe you will too. (either way I recommend watching "Children of Earth", the torchwood miniseries, if you want to see a weird dark sci fi show about the government making contact with aliens. It's a bit like arrival (2016) if it was way nastier.)

alternatively, you can inject fast acting brain poison into yourself with this

anyways I hope this all reads as, you know, more approachable than the way dudes on quora recommend this show:

[meinkatzchen]

I saw these lovely scarfs on pinterest and thought it'd be cool to see ren and mist in them. Also if it's not to much of a odd question, dose mist have a favourite plush too??

(also hope your okay and doing well too mein!!)

THIS IS SOOOO CUTE!!-`♡´-`♡´- I wanted to draw something wintery and here it is :3

Mist would definitely take a red scarf, it's her favorite color, Ren will then get the yellow scarf ₊˚⊹ᰔ

Ohhh, actually, while I was drawing this scene, so many ideas for "normal life" AU came to my mind. For example, Mist has never seen snow before, she was born in a place where there is no winter, so walking through snowy Canada with Ren would be amazing for her. But cat-girl also doesn't handle the cold as well as the heat, so fox-boy could carry something like a thermos of warm tea or take-away coffee for her, as a caring gesture to warm her up -`♡´-

As for her favorite plush, I think she really likes different plush bunnies and kittens, they are just so cute and fluffy!

Since we're talking about "normal life", I'll answer this question right away too.

This is a difficult question and I would like to believe that everything could be fine for them, that they, for example, would somehow escape or Strade would simply die, and they would be found, sent to therapy with specialists, but…I don't know- I can imagine their normal life within the AU, yes. But…the human psyche is a very delicate mechanism and some breakdowns in it can be suppressed, driven deep into the subconscious, but if some trigger happens, everything will burst out again and cause even more damage. I'm not trying to say that it is impossible to cure victims after kidnapping and violence, but it could be lifelong treatment, including going to a psychologist, taking medication, a lot of support from relatives and friends. But I still want to believe that they would have their own chance for a happy ending, even if their therapy lasted the rest of their lives.

[rose-of-the-grave]

The Great War: Chapter 10

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Reader

I know this is kind of short but the next chapter is going to be really long and it didn't feel right making it one, even larger chapter. I hope you like it! As always I'm the author (please don't repost <3)

Masterlist. Series Masterlist. Read on Ao3

Warnings: crying, watching the sunset, occamy, almost kiss

Word Count: 1657

Description: On the last night before of winter holidays, Y/N and Mattheo have a talk while watching the sunset.

Taglist: @sylveryfire, @dundunmin, @nicoleeblossom, @whoreforfictionalmen18, @lafrone, @lovemiss-vale

The air was buzzing with anticipation as the handful of students who remained on the grounds counted down the days until their friends and classmates returned. The new year had passed the night before with little celebration. Snow continued to fall, coating the castle and the grounds in a thick white blanket. Anyone who dared to venture outside for some wintery fun was bundled in layers.

Shouts echoed through the air, some fourth year boys throwing snowballs around while chasing each other through the courtyard. From high above Y/N watched over them, a sinking feeling in her stomach. Her friends would be returning soon. This entire break had felt like an escape from everything, including her mission, but now it would be time for the lies to return. She wondered if perhaps it would be better to simply say she had become friends with Pansy again so it didn’t look suspicious whenever she snuck off. That train of thought was quickly cut off by the sound of Dumbledore in her head telling her that it was of the utmost importance that she never tell her friends.

She picked up her quill, dipping it in ink. One of the many assignments over break was due in two days. Most of the homework she had already finished out of pure boredom but she still had a short essay to write on a fantastical creature of her choice. After some deliberation she had chosen to write about an Occamy. They were a serpentine creature that was a cross between a bird and a serpent. Occamies were some of the most beautiful creatures, at least according to the description. They supposedly could grow to fifteen feet long and their eggs were made of pure silver. The lack of information gave some freedom for her essay, allowing her to speculate more than she could have with other creatures.

As the sun descended once more, shadows were cast across the parchment. With a quick lumos the room lit up. After a good fifteen minutes she sighed, setting down her quill. She had written four sentences. Normally she would have put it off until the day before but everyone was returning early in the day tomorrow. Knowing her friends there was a very high chance Ron hadn’t even started any assignments and Harry had barely started.

Despite it all, she pushed off of the table.

The Great Hall was sparsely filled, the Christmas decorations falling short of concealing just how empty it was. The tree itself towered over all who ate there, Professor Flitwick’s ornaments glinting in the firelight while magical snow fell from the ceiling.

Y/N sat at the Slytherin table with Pansy, Mattheo, Theodore, and a handful of seventh years she didn’t really know. Their conversation was lively despite the pauses to eat their dinner. The feasts over holidays were always delicious. The sun’s dying light refracted through the windows of the Great Hall, casting streams of colored light.

“You want to do something after dinner?” Pansy asked, aware that it was the last true day of break.

Y/N took a bite of food, pausing to think for a moment, before saying, “Actually I was thinking I might go up to the Astronomy tower to watch the sunset.”

“Oh, okay.” Her friend nodded, turning her attention to Theodore who sat there quietly, deep in thought, “Theo, are you busy tonight?”

“No?”

“Good, you’re helping me with something.”

The Italian sighed but didn’t protest. Y/N glanced between them before standing up, dinner finished. “See you all later!”

As she began to walk away she missed Pansy shoving Mattheo, pointedly looking at Y/N. He rolled his eyes, “You’re a meddler.”

“You love that about me.” She replied with an impish grin, “And I didn’t hear you complaining earlier.”

The Slytherin boy took her unsubtle hint and jogged to catch up with Y/N.

----------------------------------

Darkness fell over the castle, the last remnants of light slipped below the horizon, casting a shadow over the castle and all who lived there. In a tower, far away from the rest of the castle’s inhabitants, sat two figures whose outline was illuminated by the moon. What had started as an escape from dinner to watch the sunset had led to something else. Something quiet and unassuming yet tangible.

Y/N gazed out across the Great Lawn, seeing nothing but black. She had one knee pulled to her chest, the other dangling into the void. Her companion sat beside her, his feet also dangling over the edge of the stone. Mattheo leaned on the metal railing, his eyes unfocused, searching.

“Do you ever wonder what your life would look like if you weren’t here?”

He glanced over at her. “Hm?”

“Like if you weren’t a wizard and you had no idea any of this existed.”

Mattheo paused before he shook his head. “There’s no point.”

“I think I’d like not being a witch.”

He snorted. “And not be able to do magic? Or play quidditch?”

Y/N laughed, “I’m not saying I wouldn’t miss it. “ She bumped her shoulder against his, the contact leaving her arm tingling despite the cold and their many layers. “But not having to deal with all of this? You know, the war.”

“I’m sorry, there’s a war going on right now? Quick, get your wand out!”

She sighed, “You know what I mean. Everyone is terrified, families are going into hiding.” She gulped, “Sometimes I just want to imagine a world without this.”

Mattheo leaned back onto his elbows, her back turned to his face. “I know what you mean.”

“Yeah, I guess you do.”

They both fell silent. Y/N’s mind was still focused on her parents. She missed them, now more than ever. Every Christmas she would go home and celebrate. Of course she would usually stay with the Weasleys for part of the break but her favorite part of the holidays was making hot cocoa and watching old Christmas movies. She and her mom would bake cookies while dancing to Christmas tunes that her dad would always say were overplayed but still mouthed the words, a grin on his face. Just the three of them, a happy family.

Work at the Ministry always got busy around holidays but they always found time and now she didn’t know when or if she’d see them again. Tears began to gather in the corners of her eyes. Just as one was about to roll down her face she wiped it away, turning to look out at the sky, studiously avoiding Mattheo’s gaze. Her body shook with the force of containing her sobs, her eyes screwed shut as if that would stop the tears from falling. The last thing she needed was to be crying in front of him.

“Hey.” A hand brushed against her back, Mattheo sitting up. “Are you okay?”

Y/N turned further away from him but it was of no use. His hand soothingly rubbed circles on her back, the sensation calming her. She hesitantly turned back around, careful not to make eye contact.

His other hand gently reached up to her cheek, wiping her tears away. “Hey, come here.” He folded her into his side, his arms wrapping around her shoulders as she buried her face in his shoulder. She gasped for air as he softly rubbed up and down her spine. “It’s okay. You’re okay, I’ve got you.” As her breathing eased she slowly realized just how close they were. Her nose was buried into his jacket, the faint scent of leather and what she presumed was cologne were oddly comforting.

His chin rested on top of her head, both arms wrapped tightly around her shivering body. After a few minutes she pushed off of him, wiping at her eyes.

“Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be.”

Y/N finally looked up at him. “Thanks.” She murmured.

He shrugged before leaning back onto his elbow while she distracted herself by gazing up at the sky. With the sun gone the stars had become visible, shining brightly thanks to the lack of industrial activity polluting the sky. She searched among the constellations for the few she was familiar with. Once, when she and Draco were kids he told her all about the different stars and constellations his family was named after. He had been so excited to share what his mother had shown him. A small smile formed on her face at the memory before fading away again.

“It’s so beautiful.” She murmured, eyes tracking the movements of the stars against the backdrop of the night sky.

Mattheo’s voice echoed from behind her, a rough quality to it, “Yes, it is.”

Y/N glanced over her shoulder, his eyes already looking at hers. Her breath caught in her throat at the familiar twinkle in his eyes. The ever present infuriating smirk was replaced by a soft smile. He looked less like a fallen angel and more like a boy she liked. She wasn’t quite sure who moved first but she suddenly was so close to his face that she could see every crinkle by his eyes, the hint of warmth in his brown eyes. The faint scar on his nose bridge, bone white against his skin.

“The stars.”

He leaned in, “Those too.” His hand came to rest on her knee, his body leaning closer to hers. Their lips brushed against each other, light as a butterfly wing. She sucked in a sharp breath, snapping out of it.

“We can’t do this.”

His face turned to stone, every remnant of longing vanishing. “Right, of course.” He pulled away like she had struck him and stood up. Y/N gazed up at him, an apology on her tongue but he turned away, walking away from her. As she watched him leave her on the top of that tower only one thought echoed in her head.

What have I done?

Chapter 11>> (coming soon!)

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

[sephgealweek]

Hello there, Sephgeal nation! For the first time ever, we're pleased to bring to you Sephgeal Appreciation Week!! This cozy little wintery event shall run from December 21st through December 27th, during which you're all invited to partake in absolute holiday joy with our boys in the #sephgealweek tag.

Prompts can be found below. Feel free to be as creative with those as you can, and take your time working on your entries, but please don’t forget to post them in the right date, though we'll gladly accept anyone who's late as well. (But just a little late! The tag will keep being checked up to the 31st!)

Some days feature two prompts. You may pick one or another, or find a way to combine them.

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Dec. 21 ⠀||⠀Day 1. Mistletoe

Dec. 22⠀||⠀Day 2. Snowfall / Fireplace

Dec. 23⠀||⠀Day 3. Hot Cocoa / Soup

Dec. 24⠀||⠀Day 4. Starlight

Dec. 25⠀||⠀Day 5. Hanahaki / Gardening

Dec. 26⠀||⠀Day 6. Solace / Memory

Dec. 27⠀||⠀Day 7. Modeoheim

===============================

Please remember to include the week’s tag within the first 5 tags or else it might be almost impossible to find your work! If you fear you won’t be found anyway, please @ this blog in your post or send a DM. Anything containing any Character/Ship Hate won’t be accepted, so avoid including those in your entries. (Making characters as villains is fine, however.) Also don’t repost anyone else’s work as your own! Definitely don’t harass other people and remember that fiction is fiction, and we're here to have a happy time!

We’re also on other platforms as well! Check us out in the links below!

AO3 Collection

Bluesky

Twitter

Don’t feel afraid of sending a message in case of any inquiries.

May it turn out to be a fun event for everyone!

[leeny-leens]

Marauders boys at the Christmas market

I was walking home today and ended up stopping by the Christmas market, my favorite place at this time of the year, and it made me think how some of the HP boys would be like attending it so have fun! Due to the image limit I'm gonna post a second part where it's all Slytherin boys, my lovely darlings <3

Note: this can be seen as platonic or romantic

Pairings: Remus Lupin x Reader, Sirius Black x Reader, James Potter x Reader, Peter Pettigrew x Reader

Warnings: a lot of fluff, mentions of alcohol

Remus Lupin

I feel like he would've attended one before

maybe not a big or bright Christmas market, but he would've definitely visited one and knows how they are like

when you ask him if he wants to join you, he's happy to indulge you because it's been ages since you've gone somewhere together

the crowds definitely make him tense, he sticks close to you and keeps his eyes on you at all times

he's constantly making sure you don't get lost or something, but even if you did get separated it wouldn't be an issue to find him because he's so bloody tall

definitely checking out all the sweets stands with you

you both end up making a detailed rating list of which dishes and desserts were the best

I feel like he'd have a sweet spot for roasted almonds,I can just feel it they give Remus vibes

like the perfect blend between sweetness from the sugar and the dark rich spices and cinnamon?? the cozy taste that is so uniquely wintery and homey?? Remus Lupin all the way.

He'd be mesmerized by the lights and the way they reflect on your face, his gaze constantly wandering to look at the way your eyes catch the lights when you laugh at something

would grumble at people who keep pushing past you both

he'd walk everywhere you want and despite the teasing, would probably carry anything you buy or win

towards the end of your trip, he'd probably seek a more quiet place to sit down with you and rest

"You okay, lovely?" Remus voice is quiet, yet it floats through the air like the snowflakes above. The noises of the market are muffled, you both had found a quiet corner to finally sit down and get some rest. You take his gloved hand into yours, mindlessly playing around with his fingers while the ghost of a smile plays along your lips. "Yep," you answer "Just a bit exhausted, but it was fun." You finally look at his face, surprised to see he'd been watching you this entire time. Despite the relative darkness surrounding you, there's a soft glimmer in his eyes as he squeezes your hand. "Me too" he breathes out "Let's go again some time?"

Sirius Black

oh he'd be absolutely fucking enchanted

he's never been to a christmas market ever so he's just floored, jaw on the ground while watching it

I feel like he'd straight up short circuit from excitement

the people, the chatter, the smell, the stalls, the food, the games, literally everything about this place would be so incredibly magical to him

he wouldn't even know where to start

he'd Be bouncing from place to place exploring like an excited little puppy having zoomies

despite that he'd still make sure you're close by at all times and doing well

he'd try out every game and would attempt winning stuff for you

I feel like he'd love the shooting games or the duck fishing one

where I live there's a drink specialty called "Glühwein" which literally means glowing wine and my fuck Sirius would love that so much

he'd stare wide eyed, clutching the glass of hot beverage while taking tentative small sips

"This," Sirius declares with a flushed face and a smile that parallels the brightest star in the sky "is the best thing I've ever had!". You can't help but smile softly at his excitement, the way his nose is crinkled and his mouth is pulled into the biggest smile you've seen on him in quite some time. "Muggles are godsend, I'm telling ya sweetheart" he rambles on and on about the Christmas market, all the food and games you've tried so far and you bite down your grin as you tighten your grip around his hand. If having Sirius Back be this carefree and excited by simply visiting a christmas market, you'd take him to a million more for the rest of your lives.

James Potter

I feel like he'd be similar to Sirius, incredibly charmed and enchanted

would be so giddy to watch how the food is made

he'd dart from stall to stall, gushing about all the things that catch his attention

to be honest, that's probably going to be everything there

would ask you a million questions about things and how they work

if there are any rides, he'd drag you to try them out

he'd be amazed at the fact that this entire place is running without magic

"Christmas markets are magical" He breathes out, his breath coming out in tiny puffs. His smile is endearing, impossibly wide and it makes his beautiful brown eyes sparkle like the lights around you. "They're the most magical place after Hogwarts," he exclaims with joy, his hand never once leaving yours.

He'd probably buy a bunch of unnecessary random shit solely because he can

he'd also get a bunch of stuff that he thinks his friends would like

a wooden figurine for himself, sweets for Remus and Peter, some sort of toy for Sirius, perfume oil for Marlene and so on

Peter Pettigrew

I think he'd enjoy the anonymity of it all

the fact that you can just be part of the crowd, no association to anyone at all, and explore to your hearts content

he'd definitely want to try a bunch of different sweets, but maybe be a bit shy and feel like he's just dragging you around

I lowkey HC him as someone who's very into photography, so I imagine that he'd be snapping pictures of everything and everyone

you'd be his biggest muse, with the way the lights dance across your face, the way your nose crinkles when you smile, the way your eyes turn into crescents when you laugh at a particularly bad joke he says

he's taking pictures of you when you aren't looking, but also after a bit he grows more confident and you guys take a million silly pictures together

idk I just think you'd have a good time together, eating the different food and occasionally going off into quiet dark corners to take a break from the overwhelming crowd before going back off into your little adventure

you both would just walk around, enjoying the different stall while also people watching and making random assumptions about the people

"That one looks like three racoons in a trench coat." Your head whips around at the sentence, your eyes wide in shock at what he just said. You think it's a joke, but Peter looks dead serious. "Just look at the coat! No one walks or looks like that," the small smile that tugs on the corner of his mouth betrays the seriousness that drips from his voice, and you both burst into a fit of giggles.

This is my first time sharing something marauders themed aaaa I hope I did well! Feel free to request things, I'm trying to get the blog up and running as I hyper focus on those lovely boys. I'm more of a Slytherin girl, but they have a soft spot in my heart <3

[alwaysxlarrie]

10 of my fav quotes from fics part 1

OKAY SO, last year i started compiling quotes from fics that i rly liked & my intention was to start doing a weekly '5 fav quotes from fics' series at the beginning of this year. & then school/work started beating my ass, so that didn't happen lol. but i just finished summer school & have a month-ish before fall semester starts & i'm off work for a week, so i'm finally doing it!!! i think i'm gonna do a post every monday and see how that goes ?? anyway, i hope this makes someone laugh or smile !! :)

“You’ve seen my box of vibrators, Louis! They have knots for a reason! I want you to knot me!” He can’t possibly be more clear than this. -- @allwaswell16

2. “Niall,” says Harry. “If you don’t stop bouncing your leg I will dislocate it for you.” -- @londonfoginacup

3. If you have to kiss a pretty boy, you have to, pre-planned game night or not. -- @gaycousinlarry

4. Meanwhile, Harry’s half-hard in his jeans from all the cock talk and whatever the fuck Louis is doing with that cherry. -- @crinkle-eyed-boo

5. “Please,” Louis scoffed, curling up on his side to face Harry. “You said my eyes are cerulean. It’ll happen again.” -- @1diamondinthesun

6. It was winter. Louis hated winter. Winter meant snow and ice and all things cold and wintery. Louis despised all things cold and wintery. -- @2tiedships2

7. Louis’ body was great.  Firm in all the right places yet still soft and inviting.  Harry wanted to bite his stomach. -- @jaerie

8. Instantly he’s on his feet, cleaning things that are already clean, putting on shoes because he doesn’t want Louis to see his bare feet, and taking them off again when he realizes what he’s doing. -- @kingsofeverything

9. But he could be good. Louis wanted him to be. And so he did. He mingled. He chatted. He hoped Louis was watching him be a good boy. -- @twopoppies

10. “Harry you have been working here for three years and you come in ten minutes early every day. I’m not going to fire you for showing up late one time.” -- @ireallysawanangel

[itsfunnybcuzitstrue]

the full post on the catcher in the rye and solitaire including: references, similarities and some analyses

notes:

'holden caulfield' is the main character's name in the catcher in the rye

i am not saying that any of these similarities (both the minor and major ones) were intended by alice- they're just things that i noticed!

major references to the catcher in the rye that i noticed in solitaire, the first one was confirmed by alice herself:

michael holden's name is inspired by the main character of the catcher in the rye- holden caulfield

holden caulfield wears a red hunting hat and tori dreams about being caught by a boy wearing a red hunting hat every time she tries to jump off a cliff in her dream (click here for the full explanation)

in part 1, chapter 23 of solitaire ben hope punches charlie. michael holden rushes to charlie's side and asks him if charlie knows who he is, and tori narrates that he says ' “Michael Holden.” Then he grins manically. “Holden . . . funny . . .” ' -> i am 100% sure that this is a reference to catcher in the rye due to the first bullet point

this one isn't really a reference, but in 'after' in solitaire charlie tells his parents what happened, to which his dad responds that this is probably because he read the catcher in the rye too many times when he was a teenager. becky then says 'jesus. can't any teenager be sad and, like, not be compared to that book?' but it's quite funny that despite this quote solitaire is labelled as 'the catcher in the rye for the digital age' by critics

major similarities i noticed between the two books:

both books take place in a snowy, wintery setting

holden caulfield and michael holden are around the same height (holden is 6'2.5", michael 6'3")

both holden's roomate- stradlater- and tori's best friend- becky allen- give holden and tori slaps/pats on the cheek which both holden and tori hate

in chapter 11 of solitaire at becky's party, tori hides in the bathroom bc she feels uncomfortable and washes her hands 3x. in chapter 3 of the catcher in the rye when holden is in the bathroom with his roomate, he turns the tap on and off which he says is a 'nervous habit' he has

holden and tori both get bloody wounds which they both decide they like the look of

holden and tori's school environment saddens them

holden and tori are both atheists

holden and tori both go ice skating with a friend, and they are both bad at ice skating

holden and tori are both good at english

minor similarities i noticed between the two books:

holden and tori both have quite hostile relationships with their parents

holden's teacher 'spencer' is notable for his nods, and tori's teacher mr kent is notable for his long pauses- both teachers have a defining characteristic

both tori and holden write bad essays about a topic they have no interest in, both of which get read out to them by their disappointed teachers

the main characters of both books- holden, tori and michael- are all excellent liars

holden and tori can be quite sarcastic

both holden and tori encounter people that their sibling used to date- i know charlie and ben didn't exactly date, it's just the only word i can think of to summarise these relationships- and neither of them like said people

holden and tori are both very close to their younger sibling of the opposite sex- the reason this isn't in major similarities is because alice oseman has said tori and charlie's relationship was based off of her own relationship with her brother

holden and tori are both insomniacs

a farewell to arms and the great gatsby are mentioned in both books

both holden and tori have younger siblings who are more intelligent than you’d expect

analyses:

this analysis isn't as coherent as the next one, but holden says that he really likes 'the great gatsby' and in solitaire, lucas ryan tells tori that 'the great gatsby' is about being in love with a dream. in the catcher in the rye it's clear that holden is in love with his dream of preserving the innocence of childhood and youth as a whole (click here for a full analysis on the theme of childhood in the catcher in the rye) -> similarly in solitaire lucas ryan is obsessed with this image of tori that he has created in his head based off of their shared childhood history

both holden and tori yearn for the past- holden wants to preserve the innocence of childhood (see the link above), and i think it's safe to say that the two of them both want to preserve the ease of childhood too -> the first example i can think of for tori is when she says in part 1, chapter 6 'if I could swap bodies with someone for a day, I would choose oliver'. the next when charlie relapses in part 1, chapter 13 and she says 'i'm glad that he's [oliver's] never understood what's wrong with charlie.' and the final example being when she has a breakdown in part 2, chapter 7 and says to charlie 'my life was so normal before. i used to hate being so bored, but i want that back. i didn't care about anything before [...] but before solitaire, everything was fine. i was fine. i used to be fine'

if you liked solitaire then you should definitely read the catcher in the rye

[oscquinn]

wintery requests for lip you say 👀 imagine the first time you two see each other after winter break, you went back to your home state for a couple of weeks while he spent time at home instead of the dorms. he tracks your flight and meets you back on campus right as the snow starts to fall, so you head back to your room to snuggle and catch up — he doesn’t want to admit it, but the time away from you was killing him and he’s been dying to get his hands on you for dayssss 😅

MAKING THE READER FROM THE SOUTH BC IM FROM THE SOUTH TEEHEE!! no warnings!! rated E.

your flight lands at midway airport at 4:30pm. the sun creeps closer to the horizon line while you taxi around switching your phone off airplane mode so you can text lip.

you: js landed. see u soon? baby <3: See u soon babygirl

you take a selfie as the rows ahead of you start to stand up and leave, smiling and showing off the sweater you're wearing, one of his. he sends you one back in your dorm bed, your cat pastina snuggled in his lap. you'd left him the key to take care of her over break, your parents didn't know you'd adopted a kitten at school.

once you're in the uber it only takes about 30 minutes to arrive at your dorm. snow is beginning to fall, sun casting a halo behind the buildings as it peeks through the very edge of the clouds. it's setting fast, but lip is there to help wrestle your bags in. once they're under the overhang of your building he draws you back into the snow, kissing your cold lips.

"s-so cold," you pout, in that soft southern tone he loves so much. "was way warmer back home."

lip kisses the corner of your petulant frown, takes your hand, and guides you back inside. he carries your bags himself, setting them down in the elevator and backing you up against the wall. you expect him to kiss you, put his hands up your shirt, but instead he simply buries his nose in your neck. "missed you, baby," me mumbles. his voice is soft, rough, like he truly had suffered without you.

your fingers pet gently through his curls, "missed you too, baby boy."

[formalmess]

DTIYS!

dtiys time! of the wintery luisley variety! no rules, no deadline, i simply implore you to have fun in drawing these romantical festive boys! and please be sure to tag me or use the hashtag below so i can find your lovely draws :D <3

have fun!

[drarryspecificrecsdaily]

2023.12.13

Complete fics posted on AO3 this day

1. Our Voices by @xx-thedarklord-xx [T, 1k]

►Fans wanting to meet the Harry Potter was always an annoying part of owning the Tornadoes Quidditch team for Draco. But when a little boy stands in front of him clutching a Quibbler magazine, eyes wet pleading to meet not Quidditch player Harry Potter but instead the Harry Potter that came out as bisexual, Draco knows that he's about to break his firm no fan meeting policy and allow the kid to meet his husband

---

Fest/Exchange

1. First Frost by Anonymous [T, 4k]

►A story of forest walks and forgiveness, with lots of of wintery vibes and symbolism aplenty. ★ Harry/Draco Owlpost 2023 | @hdowlpost

2. Jasmine in Bloom by Anonymous [E, 41k]

►This is not something Draco can have in his life… Potter overturning all that he’s carefully cultivated. They’re not compatible and never will be. Draco’s been playing with fire. It just so happens that he likes how Potter smoulders before being allowed close enough to burn. ★ H/D Erised 2023 | @hd-erised

3. The Snowman by Anonymous [M, 3k]

►Snow has fallen steadily all night long, and Draco wakes in a room filled with light and silence. It's a December day, five years after the War. It's on this day that Draco makes the snowman. ★ Harry/Draco Owlpost 2023 | @hdowlpost

4. An Unexpected Santa by Anonymous [E, 4k]

►No, that can't be Draco, can it? Teddy swears it is. ★ Harry/Draco Owlpost 2023 | @hdowlpost