Mr Sacks in the Advent Calendar

I’m not sure if anyone else has noticed this yet but there’s an image of Mr Sacks with a quote in the source code of the advent calendar:
It says &quot[color=rgb(35, 110, 37)]MR SACKS… TAKE MY HEART.[/color]&quot
view-source:fallenlondon.storynexus.com/advent
edited by RobDaVinci on 12/23/2017

This isn’t valentines day…

Don’t do it! Sack’s will just give it to someone else tomorrow!

What if, instead of your literal heart (which I assume that’s what it means because what else would I expect), the two of you actually go on a date.

And yes, I will continue to post heart-puns until someone else comments here.

He’s(?) actually a sweetheart once you get to know him(?).


Today the two of us leapt across the roof-tops. He(?) had his own &quotspecial route&quot, one that would’ve been impossible for anyone but him(?). Of course, he(?) always looked back and lent me a gloved hand whenever my footing slipped and when the buildings became too high to clamber over.

Although the more squalid homes possessed few chimneys, Sacks somehow found them. He(?) would whisper &quotho ho ho…&quot to himself(?) and then turn his(?) hood to the next chimney- even if it was out of sight! Was that where he(?) was the rest of the year, memorizing chimney locations?


Every jump, plunge, and outburst of soot brought him(?) great glee. I would wait nearby the chimney, trying and failing to contain my laughter in anticipation for the inevitable yelp or scream of surprise as the ol’ furball scampered inside. Then he(?) would claw his way back up into my view, immaculate as ever, with a sack of slightly larger bulge. It was wonderful.


Eventually, my own bones grew weary of the constant pouncing about. Even though I could sit and rest while waiting for him(?) to clamber back up, it was no use. I needed to sleep. I needed an actual bed, and not the cold shingles jutting into my buttocks. He(?), too, recognized this fatigue and feigned tiredness- but I knew he could go all night long. He(?) was just being nice, granting an excuse to escort me home.

As we reached the roof of my dwelling, I turned back to him(?). Perhaps I wanted to say thank you. Perhaps I wanted a kiss. Before I knew it, he(?) had tackled me, picked up my form, flew upwards and, with a practiced grace, unceremoniously grand-slammed me down the chimney.

edited by Tystefy on 12/25/2017

Mr Sacks would never be so rude as to throw you down a chimney. He will only throw you into his sack.

Wh-what are we going to do in the chimney, Sacks-Chan?


Someone help me! I’ve dug myself into this hole! Stop me before I type a legit Mr. Sacks romantic fanfic!


EDIT: Optimatum, I thank you for saving me with that post directly above this post which you definitely will not delete just to watch me suffer more.
edited by Tystefy on 12/25/2017

There are some creepy things in the Advent Calender . . .

“Meet, drink, and be many, for tomorrow They may dine.”

I would give it my heart or other related organs, but they sadly have already been “feasted” upon by the Playful Prodigy and gouged out of my body by the Drowned Man. The only part of my body that I refuse to give up at this point is my soul, which will probably be stained in the near future.

Merry Sacksmas, delicious friends!