#<- prev NO ITS TOTALLY OKAY

[oh-cramity-its-amity]

ROSEGOLD!!! YEAHHHHH!!! ROSEGOLD MY BELOVED!!! (but also amity and gus too <3)

"Canon divergence" but it's giving characters the close friendships I think they would have had if canon had expanded a little more.

[anambermusicbox]

.

[f14fun]

pixelated love (!simmer x mv1) - chapter 2

synopsis: in which the famous three time world champion max verstappen wants to learn how to play the sims 4. except, he doesn't really know how to. so what does he do, search up a youtube tutorial. low-and-behold, y/n's video is the first he watches.

smau ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ profile | masterlist ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ prev | next | series index ˚୨୧⋆｡

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yourusername:

yourusername: WATCH LIVE ON TWITCH: i dominate my sub (max verstappen) as we play the sims 4 together - he's streaming too, ig 🙄🙄

(pls subscribe to my patreon and all of the cool cc looks that I put together)

view comments:

maxverstappen1: That is not the picture that we agreed on you to post, Y/N.

yourusername: deal with it max emillian 🙄

maxverstappen1: I look horrible, please delete it.

yourusername: max, i mean it in the best way possible, but you look so babygirl 😍😘🥺

maxverstappen1: This? Means me?

yourusername: SEE?!? the word fits u, totally 😁😁😁

maxverstappen1: ???

user1: LMFAO MAX??!

user2: this is the most unlikely pairing/collab of the year, i'm bewildered

user3: ABSOLUTELY LIVING for this unhinged duo >>>

user4: the way they type is COMPLETELY THE OPPOSITE FROM EACH OTHER

user5: and we are totally living for it??

user6: they match each others freak in the phattest opposite directions its so funny everytime they interact

user7: this is the type of deluluship that i aspire to have one day

yourusername: DWAI! you will reach my level of mental illness and one day have to live in a mental insane aslyum like me! (my bedroom playing sims twenty-four seven)

user7: oh!- 😀 (trembling)

maxverstappen1: It's spelled as asylum*** @/yourusername.

yourusername: 😐😐😐 not funny

user8: ☠️☠️🫵🏾

user9: love to see a set of people constantly being able to humble each other, prime entertainment

user10: guys, the stream is so fucking funnny PLS WATCH IT RN.

user10: like my mom came in to tell me to eat dinner and she heard HOW FUNNY and UNHINGED it was and decided to join me 😭

yourusername: w mother fr ‼️‼️

yourusername: now max, this is a PRIME EXAMPLE of a MILF.

yourusername: watch and learn, okay!

maxverstappen1: I am still very confused...

yourusername: mom i'll learn from >>> mom i'd like to fuck

liked by maxverstappen1

maxverstappen1: Ohhh, I see

user11: the BLATANT gaslighting has me IN TEARS. 💀💀

user11: like this is what she chooses to do the minute she gets noticed by a f1 driver HELPPPP

user12: this is MORE UNHINGED version of everything in the yt video i beg for u guys to join in on the stream i swear, NO REGRETS FRRR

user13: when she started teaching max the words to club classics by charli xcx mid stream 😭😭😭

user14: NOT A REAL EXPERIENCE. LMFAO.

yourusername: what can i say, i just need to educate this man in pop culture 😁

yourusername: i swear he is gen-z guys, just with a tinge of millenial in him (we are working on fixing that!!)

maxverstappen1: Yeah, I wanna dance to me, I wanna dance to A.G, I wanna dance with George @/georgerussel63

georgerussel63: ???

georgerussel63: Eww mate, I will not dance with you Max

georgerussel63: You can't dance well, so no thanks 🙃

yourusername: i already like you george

yourusername: you are very funny

georgerussel63: Why, thank you. May I ask who you are?

yourusername: only the funniest girl on earth ‼️🎀🌍🫨🌋

georgerussel63: I'll give that title to my girlfriend, thank you very much, but you can take a close second

yourusername: i'll take it 😁😁🤣

maxverstappen1: ☹️☹️

user15: it's okay max, you can be babygirl in the corner with me

user16: george russel once again rendering max bitchless, in front of a hot girl nontheless ☹️

yourusername: it's okay, max is my bitch 😈💦😼

user17: girl, i'm astonished everytime you open your mouth

liked by yourusername

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taglist: @hiireadstuff @sinofwriting @mehrmonga @the-untamed-soul @glai1023-blog @loloekie @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @sheastri @llando4norris @gwginnyweasley @carmenita122

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author's note: ty guys for reading this fic! 😍🫶🏾 part three will be out sometime within the next week, comment if you want to be added to the taglist! ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

[corkinavoid]

To add to that, I bet Tim doesn't notice any of it.

Hold on, I'm not going the way you might think I'm going, hear me out.

Tim was raised by Drakes. He was raised as a socialite kid in a society where good looks mattered and where they were praised. That comes with a lot of standards (not necessarily good or healthy ones, but that's a completely different topic of discussion).

Point is, he is aware of his looks.

Yet, after he became Robin, then Wayne, then Red Robin, it became kind of a distant awareness because there were infinitely more important things to focus and be proud of. Tim is smart, proficient with many weapons, strong, intelligent, a CEO, a vigilante, and everything else. Matters of beauty kind of get put on a backburner when you've got Ra's al Ghul on the loose and a company to run.

So, Tim knows he looks good. He just kind of... doesn't care about it since no one in the family ever reminded him that it's supposed to matter.

Now. Do any of you remember the scene with 'You're hot, cupcake' from Arcane?

That's exactly how Danny and Tim started dating (minus the brothel, let's say it was just a bar or something), and it's a hill I will die on.

The Tim Drake Heartthrob Conspiracy

It started as a slow, creeping suspicion. A few throwaway comments here, a couple of odd interactions there. At first, no one thought much of it.

One day, Dick was grabbing coffee near Wayne Enterprises when he overheard two interns chatting in line. “I saw Tim Drake today, and let me tell you, I think I’ve developed a new celebrity crush,” one of them said, giggling.

Dick nearly choked on his iced latte. Tim? Celebrity crush? He shook it off, chalking it up to the occasional corporate crush, nothing out of the ordinary for someone who runs a massive company. But then he heard it again the next week at a Titan’s briefing. Garfield leaned over to him during a meeting, nodding toward Tim across the room.

“Man, Tim’s really come into his own, huh? Guy’s kinda a looker now,” Gar commented.

Dick blinked, then frowned. “Wait, what?”

“Oh, come on, Nightwing,” Gar teased, “you can’t tell me you haven’t noticed! The quiet broody thing is working for him. I bet half of Gotham has a crush on him.”

By the time Dick got back to Gotham, the gears were turning in his head. Did half of Gotham have a crush on Tim?

Then it happened again. This time it was Damian’s turn.

He had been sparring with Jon in the Batcave, when their conversation drifted, as it often did. “You ever think about what it would be like to date someone like Tim?” Jon asked, completely out of the blue.

Damian froze, mid-punch. “What?”

“I mean, he’s smart, right? Responsible, kinda low-key. Would probably make a great boyfriend,” Jon continued, completely oblivious to the growing horror on Damian’s face.

“Grayson and Todd, are enough. I refuse to let another sibling of mine become Gotham’s romantic fascination!” Damian exclaimed later that night at the dinner table. The others laughed, assuming Damian was just being overly dramatic, as usual.

But the seed had been planted.

It didn’t take long for the other Batfamily members to start picking up on the signs.

Steph first noticed when she logged onto a Wayne Enterprises fan forum (because yes, those exist) and saw a thread that was simply titled, “Tim Drake’s Glow-Up Appreciation Post”. The page was filled with comments fawning over him—talking about his “sharp jawline,” his “dark, mysterious aura,” and how “charming” he was during interviews.

Naturally, Steph sent the link to Cass with a laughing emoji. “Look at our boy, growing up into Gotham’s next heartbreaker,” she joked.

But as more and more of these comments popped up in the oddest places, Steph’s joking tone faded. Was Tim really the next heartthrob?

The realization hit Jason last, as most things concerning Tim usually did. He was scrolling through his usual online haunts, browsing forums that discussed Gotham’s vigilantes, when he stumbled on something unusual.

A post titled: Top 10 Reasons Why Red Robin is the Best Looking Vigilante in Gotham.

Jason almost clicked out of it immediately, assuming it was some kind of joke. But no. There were paragraphs. Analysis. Photos that somehow made Tim look like a damn model, even in his ridiculous Red Robin cape.

Jason scrolled through in disbelief, not sure what he was more stunned by: the fact that people were thirsting after Tim, or that someone had gone to this much effort to explain why he was hot.

“That’s it. The internet is officially broken,” Jason muttered to himself, before sending a screenshot to the family group chat with the caption: Since when did Tim become a fashion icon?

The real kicker, though, was Alfred. After weeks of the Batfamily casually throwing around jokes about Tim’s newly discovered “status,” Alfred finally made his observation one morning over breakfast.

“Master Timothy has always had a certain quiet charm about him,” Alfred said as he served coffee, completely unbothered by the ensuing chaos.

Dick, nearly spilling his coffee: “Wait, you knew about this? Why didn’t you say something?”

Alfred raised a brow. “It hardly seemed necessary. I assumed you all were already aware of Master Timothy’s appeal.”

Appeal. Appeal.

Jason was laughing so hard he had to leave the room, while Steph and Cass exchanged glances that said everything: they needed to re-evaluate everything about their little brother.

The whole Batfamily was still coming to terms with it. They joked, they teased, but there was an undeniable shift. When they looked at Tim now, they saw what others had apparently been seeing for years—a quietly confident, strikingly intelligent young man who had somehow grown into one of Gotham’s most eligible bachelors.

Of course, the moment that really sealed the deal came when Tim rode into the Batcave one evening on his Red Bird bike, wearing hastily thrown on stylish outfit—a black leather jacket, perfectly fitted jeans, and a shirt that gave him a casual, yet effortlessly cool look. Running a hand through his still damp hair, a look of mild annoyance on his face.

“Sorry, I’m running late. Got a date.”

For a moment, the Batfamily just stared.

Holy. Shit.

And then, as if on cue, Dick, Steph, Cass, Duke, Jason, and even Damian had the same thought at the same time: Oh my God, Tim Drake is the Batfamily’s biggest heartthrob.

The realization was almost too much to handle.

[jadeoru]

SMUDGED LIPSTICK

07: silent treatment -> prev / mlist / next

now playing: tightrope - movements 🎶

Awkward. Everything about this was awkward. You were sitting on the floor beside the bed, your back pressed against the bed frame. You haven’t looked at him once. He sat on the bed beside you, sitting cross-legged on the edge of it.  He was shamelessly staring at you; yet you refused to even acknowledge his existence. He silently admired your features, watching as you typed away on your phone. After taking a quick peek at your screen, he deducted that you were writing song lyrics. His eyebrows raised up briefly, face filled with amusement. Selfishly, he was glad to be here during your writing process. He thought to himself that maybe if this song gets finished, you might decide to release it to the world. And maybe, if that were to happen, you might add this song to future setlists; perform it for thousands to see. Then, maybe, just maybe, as the words you typed out right here beside him left your lips, maybe you would think of him; you would remember this moment. He shoved his ‘maybe’s’ aside, and watched your face scrunch up in concentration. As he watched you structure each verse carefully, only one thought crossed his mind:

Holy shit, you’re beautiful.

He’s glad you haven’t told him off for staring yet because god, he missed your face. He missed hearing your voice, even if your words were fueled by hatred; disgust. You made even the most incoherent of ramblings sound like poetry. His eyes scanned your face, putting every inch of your skin to memory, almost in fear that he would never get the chance to see it again. His heart panged at the thought of never seeing these expressions of yours again - how your tongue darted across your bottom lip. You shifted around on the floor. He knew you were incredibly uncomfortable down there, but your spite and pettiness outweighed any discomfort you felt. He fidgeted with his phone, trying to look like he was doing something, anything. He tried to act as if he wasn’t as desperate as he really was.

He failed.

Clearing his throat, he spoke up. “So are y-” “no.” ouch. You shut him down immediately, not even bothering to hear him out. He deserved it, he thought to himself. He would try again regardless. He would keep trying to get a word that wasn’t ‘no’ or ‘shut up’ out of you, no matter how annoying he got. But after the sixth time, it was evident to him that this would be a lot harder than it seemed. He was ashamed of how pathetic he was towards you, but the thought of giving up hasn’t crossed his mind once. If you didn’t want to speak physically, maybe there were other ways to get a conversation out of you.

He turned his phone on, and quickly added you to his contacts, before beginning to type.

extra:

BOKUAKA IS REAL!!!

sakusa feels SO pathetic but he always feels that way when it comes to you

you somehow always leave him speechless

but that doesn't mean anything!!!! he just misses your friendship!! thats all!!! totally!!

i wonder what the song yn was writing is about 🤔🤔

noya and hinata are having the equivalent of a 6 year old girls sleepover

like theyre giggling and talking about boys n shit

7 chapters in and they still hate each other.... oops...

its okay guys we're getting to the good part i promise

good things are coming!!!

kinda!

TAGLIST: @gojoed @itsdragonius @sleepy-writer84 @anianurst @yuminako @wolffmaiden @tenjikusstuff4 @juie13 @ilyless @arachnoia @choizzn @3lectraheart @diorzs @le000xxgrd @aboveasphodel @petrus1989 @aria-in-wonderland @sugarrhiccupp @bbybibi @walllflowerrrsss @wave2mia @loveelylacey @marimisses @alpha-mommy69

reply to this or send me an ask to be added to the taglist ! ^__^

[glass-clown]

[FIRST ID: A screenshot of a Facebook post by Jane Friedman that says, "As of today, there are about half a dozen books being sold on Amazon, with my name on them, that I did not write or publish. Some huckster generated them using AI, hoping to make a quick buck from people who don't realize I'm not the author. Unforuntately, these scam books were also added to my official Goodreads profile. I don't think the larger public understands that author don't directly control what books appear on their profile. They are automatically added via Amazon and/or submitted by users. To get them removed is not an easy process. [in all caps] A brief update [end caps]: After going back and forth a few times with Amazon on this issue, I was notified these junk books would not be removed based on the information I provided. Since I do not own copyright in these AI works and since my name is not trademarked, I'm not sure what can be done." Attached is an image of a rusty dumpster with fire and smoke coming out of it. Above the screenshot is a Tweet by Gabe Hudson @ gabehudson.bsky.social that says, "Dear god what fresh hell is this for writers?" /END OF FIRST ID]

[SECOND ID: A screenshot of a message conversation between @jenovacomplete and an Amazon customer service member whose name has been blocked out. The first message is by jenovacomplete, set at 10:49 pm, that says, "Ah, I haven't ordered from them. I just wanted to see if there was any way to report their fraudulent reproduction. If there isn't, that's fine! Thank you for your time!" At 10:54 pm the customer service member replies, "Okay. Thank you for been on online, The product from Amazon are genuine and correct . You can order from Amazon. No worries from shopping amazon." /END OF ALL IDS]

-

I found an interesting excerpt in an article about this case:

""All this time, public outcry over the case from other authors and observers mounted on Twitter. Finally, on Tuesday morning, Amazon reversed its decision and removed the titles from its platform. A company spokesperson sent Gizmodo a statement explaining its decision.

"We have clear content guidelines governing which books can be listed for sale and promptly investigate any book when a concern is raised," Amazon spokesperson Ashley Vanicek told Gizmodo. "We welcome author feedback and work directly with authors to address any issues they raise and where we have made an error, we correct it. We invest heavily to provide a trustworthy shopping experience and protect customers and authors from misuse of our service."

Amazon declined to comment further when asked to elaborate on what particular rule or policy was violated that led to the AI-generated content being removed. Friedman said she's confident the growing backlash on social media contributed to the ecommerce's reversal. That's good news for her, but will come as little solace to other, smaller writers who lack her same level of prominence.

"I do think it was the public outcry," the author said. "Obviously you shouldn’t have to raise a shitstorm in order to get them to do the right thing."" — "Amazon Removes AI-Generated Books That Spoofed an Author's Byline" by Mark DeGeurin on Gizmodo

[piss-pumpkin]

🫧We’ve got nothing but time.🌤️

Douce amere chapter 18, older!dipper pines x reader, ~6.7k words masterlist Prev

What had Dipper learnt? It was July twenty-first, and it had been for nearly a week, stuck on the day after Bill possessed you and attacked him. You were in the kitchen in the morning, and hung out with Stan in the evening for an unknown amount of time. Mabel stayed in the shack all day, and Ford worked downstairs, probably. Dipper hadn’t seen him. And nobody else seemed to notice the repetitions. 

This was stupid. Downright stupid. That was about all Dipper was certain of, but he had his other suspicions. The first time he did today was when he found that weird cave, that seemed most logical. And it if wasn’t that, he was totally fucked with no other leads or clues.

So off he went. Dipper quietly sidestepped Mabel’s questions as he grabbed for his bag. At least she was confused, which meant she was distracted from what happened… yesterday. The last thing Dipper wanted was a repeat of the conversation they had… however many days ago. Iterations of today. It was all he could do to trudge out the door on heavy feet and keep his eyes forward. 

Okay. This is fine. He would go to that weird supernatural cave pond, and this would end. Tomorrow would happen. 

Oh god. How did time loops even work? If weirdness was just in Gravity Falls, was time passing outside of it? Dipper shook his head as he stumbled into the brush of the forest. Maybe time was passing and he was just insane. Dipper couldn’t tell if that would be better, or worse. 

As he ambled through the woods, he came to an unfortunate, unrelated realization. He had no idea where to go. The sun was coming up, just light enough to see clearly. He’d come to the fairytale part of the woods, that was a good sign. A few flickering fireflies left over from the night were still idly buzzing around close to the ground around colourful mushrooms. He’d definitely come through here last time, but he was mindlessly running away, then. He wasn’t trying to remember the path. Hell, even if he was, he probably wouldn’t.

Dipper furrowed his brow as he came to a fork in the path, squinting as he tried to remember which way. Fuck, this sucked. He took a gamble for left.

The sun was high overhead when he got there. The same grove, just as it had been days ago. Dipper sighed when he came to it, the slightclearing at the face of the cliff, hands on his knees to brace himself. God, how little had he slept this whole time? It was starting to weigh on him. Even just an afternoon of walking was enough to leave him stumbling.

 At least he knew his body was experiencing time. Dipper thought about it as he approached the cave entrance, without the hesitation of curiosity this time. He definitely felt like it had been a few days without proper sleep, that much was certain as he tripped through the tunnel with all the grace of Grunkle Stan on a Friday night. 

The water was still running down the floors and the walls towards the puddle chamber. Dipper didn’t bother trying to step on his tip toes or around the streams. With wet shoes, and without a flashlight, he groaned his way to the dim light. 

It still shone like a full moon, with ripples of the water reflecting all around the wide cave walls, sparking on the specks of minerals encrusted inside. Dipper stood miserably before it, staring in. His reflection stared back.

Hmmm. Last time the reflection was off, bad angle and extra people. This time though, it was just plain old him, exactly how he should look. The picture flickered with its drips like a puddle, and less like a mirror, or a gateway between worlds. That’s weird. Or there was always the off chance he was hallucinating last time. Or this time. Sighing, he pulled the journal out of his bag, and flipped to the last few pages he wrote. 

He was already reading by the time he noticed. He was reading. There were words written about the cave. Dipper squinted as he eyed the journal. He wrote those in the timeloop. Were objects immune? If it only affected people that would confirm time was passing. 

Dipper grimaced as he made note of it all. Any other time, this would be a fun mystery to unravel, an interesting thread to pull. If time was looping on any other day… 

Scratch that. It could be worse, he realized. It could have been yesterday. Oh god. His eyes widened as it dawned on him; he could’ve been stuck reliving the moment that you- Bill towered over him trying to kill him. His hands flew to his mouth to cover it instinctively as a shiver travelled up his spine. Deep breaths. 

Dipper knelt down slowly, balancing on the balls of his feet as he stared down into the glowing puddle. Ugh. His reflection looked worn down. Far worse then last time. Well, what it showed last time wasn’t real. Unfortunately. The bangs under his eyes seemed to be pulling down his face, far deeper than usual, and outlined with dark circles. 

Sighing, he touched the pond. That’s all he did last time, right? He just splashed it and the reflections vanished, and that was kinda weird. 

Nothing happened. Maybe because nothing was happening. No mystery in the water this time, and nothing to disturb with his heavy hands. Dipper pursed his lips. Did it… work? Was he out? He glanced around. Nothing looked or felt different. He splashed around again, waving his hand in the puddle as of to tread water. He could feel his lips turning into a scowl. This was stupid. 

Against all odds, he managed to stand up, pushing himself off his legs and staring down at the puddle. Same old reflection. Dipper sighed. Was there anything else he could do here? 

He couldn’t think of anything logical. He spared the pool one more glance, and turned back. He swallowed hard as he stepped back into the sunlight, a growing anxiety building in his chest. Dipper looked back at the cave entrance, it’s maw staring at him from the cliff face, and he shivered despite the summer heat. 

Fuck this. He went back to the shack, trekking through the woods, following the path he blazed in his tired trudge this morning. Still, it was evening when he got back. Dipper squinted at the shack from a distance. What happened in the evening? The first time, Mabel greeted him at the door, and told him you and Stan were together… somewhere. He couldn’t remember. 

So… no front door. Mabel could survive one today without seeing him. Dipper winced. If this is her first time, that would hurt. He thought back to the way she cried during their first morning conversation, or her tired face in the evening. He stared at the front door from the tree line. If he fixed the timeloop, then this would be the permanent version. The version she remembered. Is that what he wanted? For her to think he’d run away, abandoned her completely? He glanced at his wrist, the slowly healing bruise your foot had left when Bill attacked him. No. He could do better. 

Sighing, he walked to the front door, and Mabel opened it before he even reached the handle. He might have been growing desensitized to the raw emotion in the shack, but Mabel’s tired eyes still struck a dull pain in his chest. Yeah. This was the right choice. 

He hugged her, spoke to her, and sat with her until he passed out, brain melting and numbing to the sound of vaguely familiar Gravity Falls tv. 

                                             …

He dreamt of burning. A burning pain in his wrist and arm, a burning feeling in his chest, and the burning light in your eyes that flickered and sparked with hate when you looked over him. That image was so clear. Your- Bills sadistic grin while he was pinned. Like it was seared into his brain like a brand. Felt like burning. 

And he woke in his bed, his body holding into that burning feeling with a vice grip. With sweaty hands he wiped his sweaty forehead. Bed. And then it all went cold. Somebody could have brought him there. There was a non zero chance he wasn’t in the loop. 

It was dark outside. Mabel slept, with all her stuffed animals bundled near her head. He didn’t want to wake her to ask, at least one twin deserved sleep. There was one good litmus test though. Quietly, he stood, creaked open the door, and descended the stairs.

There were lights on, but that wasn’t something exclusive to today. That could mean anything. Non zero chance. 

Light was on in the kitchen. Dipper winced, stopping short. Maybe you weren’t in there. Ugh. The sinking feeling in his chest only grew when he approached, and he head a few familiar sniffles and shuffles. God fucking dammit. There you were. On the floor. With a coffee pot in your lap and a half empty mug beside you. Dipper gritted his teeth, staring at you a moment. 

Dipper could barely hear you ask your familiar question; “do you…” you started. “Do you want some?”

He blinked, and waited a moment. Well shit. It was still today. He was so fucked. Wordlessly, he walked out, leaving you to your usual activities… whatever those were. He didn’t care to find out. Aimlessly, he walked through the house. So completely fucked. 

Or… maybe not. His eyes caught on the vending machine in the gift shop, and he grimaced. If anyone knew anything about this, it was probably Ford. He probably could’ve thought of that yesterday. Ugh. Another today wasted on a bad hunch. 

He sluggishly typed in the code, and the vending machine popped open to reveal the stairs behind it. Ford might be awake.  Hell, he totally was, Dipper thought as he went down. No shot Ford could rest more then he could while Bill was out there. 

He stopped at the study. The room that once terrified him, lined with alters and shrines to Bill. With a sigh, he knocked gently on the door. He hasn’t seen Ford today. His schedule was the only complete mystery. 

He heard a few paper shuffle on the other side, before hasty steps came toward the door. It slowly opened to an only slightly dishevelled Ford.  “Dipper,” he said, opening the door all the way. “Are you alright?” 

Dipper smiled as he came in, “Yeah I’m… fine.” He glanced around. There was writing on the whiteboard, scribbles he wasn’t even sure Ford could read. The desk was covered in papers, some looked old and yellowed, some white and new, with pen ink drips staining most of them. “Grunkle Ford, uh-“ Dipper started, turning back to his great uncle. He sucked a breath in through his teeth. How to word this? “Have you noticed anything… weird, lately?”

Fords expression hardened, his brow furrowed with curiosity. “Well, Bill,” he said simply. “Is that what you mean?”

Dipper shook his head, lips pursed. 

“I thought so,” Ford said, sounding disappointed. He gestured at the white board, “I have no idea who wrote most of that.”

Dippers eyes widened. Right. Objects weren’t affected. That meant… anyone could learn about it if they left themself something in writing. 

“My best guess is I’m being possessed,” Ford said sadly. “The writing is clearly mine, but I don’t recall doing it. I’m not certain what Bills return means, but if he can possess my body even with my metal plate,” he tapped his head for emphasis, “then we’ve got big problems.” 

Dipper looked at the floor. “I, uh, don’t think that’s it,” he started, scratching at his wrist. “What if there’s some sort of a time-loop, and you wrote that yesterday, and you just…” he met his mentors eyes, “don’t remember.”

Ford raised his brow. “You… know something about this? He asked.

Dipper nodded, eyes glued to the floor. “So far I’m the only one who’s noticed,” he muttered. 

Ford seemed sceptical, all six fingers tapping against his chin as he looked over Dipper intently. He hummed, “are you certain?” And sighed when Dipper nodded again. Ford grimaced, and kicked over a stool on wheels and a swivel, gesturing for Dipper to sit. 

Sighing, he did, his feet idly pushing him back and forth in small motions. Ford pulled another chair out from behind the whiteboard, and sat down in front of him, hands laced together and held against his lips, as if to hold back words. Dipper shuddered thinking about what he might say. At least he believed him. 

“How long?” Ford ask simply, unreadable tone or expression. 

He swallowed. How long had it been? He wasn’t keeping track at first, and the days seemed to blend together in the pile of mush that was his brain. God. “A few days… maybe a week?” Dipper sighed. “I don’t know for sure.”

Ford pursed his lips, brow furrowed. “Okay, can you start from the beginning?”

Ugh. How many beginnings had there been? And the one he thought was the key turned out to be a dud, and wasted another day. Dipper grumbled, went through it from the top. As much as he could remember. He thought about leaving out what he saw in the puddle, since admitting to hallucinating didn’t seem like a great idea, but if anyone would understand, it would be Ford. So he told him. 

Ford listened intently, and groaned when he was done. Ford adjusted his glasses a few times as he grimaced, “Well, this isn’t ideal,” he managed. 

Dipper sighed.

”-But there’s… probably a way out,” he finished.  He tapped his fingers against his chin. “You said you saw… us, in the pool, correct?”

Dipper nodded, grumbling. Suddenly that part seemed really dumb. He got lured into a weird puddle by hallucinating something that probably happened, like, a few days ago. Longer than that, now. 

“That’s… interesting,” Ford said, transfixed on Dippers face. Or maybe he was looking through him. “I might be familiar with the concept.”

Dipper waited for him to say more on the subject. It took a few moments of silence for him to speak again.

“I encountered a similar issue in another dimension,” Ford started, swivelling his chair over to his desk to flip through the papers. “I doubt I have the written record anymore,” he said, shuffling them around. “Actually, I don’t even think I wrote it down… it wasn’t something I particularly wanted to study.”

Dipper swallowed. Alright. So he was stuck in a situation that even Ford wasn’t comfortable with. Just great. 

“It was just after I left the alternate dimension where I never fell into the portal,” Ford sighed, putting his papers down. He grabbed around his desk until his hand landed on a pen, and he started to write while he spoke. “There was a fountain, and I guess I was feeling,” he rubbed the bridge of his nose, “homesick.”

”What… did you see?” Dipper asked, fearing where this was going. What it meant for him. 

“Oh lots of things,” Ford sighed wistfully, not looking up from the paper that was now splattered with ink. “Stanley,” Ford said. “And Fiddleford, firstly. I never imagined they could be friends, but they were in the vision.”

Dipper shivered as he spoke. Homesick, huh? The image of himself with you, Mabel, Stan and Ford knocked around his head. And Grunkle Ford wasn’t done. “And my lab was there, from the alternate world. I had it all, so to speak.”

”Did you touch the water?” Dipper asked, wincing.

Ford nodded, and Dipper could see him start to sketch a drawing. “I did, and that’s how it started. I’d left that dimension by nightfall, but by morning I was waking up right back where I started.”

”Well, how’d you make it stop?” Dipper sighed, this time with relief. If Ford could get out, so could he, right? 

Ford spun in the chair to face him, looking grave. “To this day, I’m still not sure.”

Well shit. Statement rescinded. 

“I was stuck for a long time,” Ford paused, and eyed Dipper intensely. Dipper couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. “I’m not sure how it happened, but one day it just… ended.”

Dipper blinked. “And you have no idea how?” He blurted out. 

Ford shook his head. “I don’t,” he sighed, resting his head on his palm. “I’ll do some thinking on it, or try to find anything written about it, and see if I can find something to help you,” he said sadly. 

Well, fuck. Dippers foot bounced on the floor anxiously, and he wiped some sweat off his palms onto his pants. So he was on his own. Sort of. Maybe Ford would find something. But how long could that take? How long was he stuck? Dipper guessed… too long, if even Ford didn’t want to write this one down. Something better left forgotten. Dipper swallowed, and stood up, “Okay, well,” he started. “I’ll try to figure something out, then.”

Without another word, he left. Okay, so. What did he learn? He might be so fucked. He glanced around the gift shop. Completely empty. The sun was up outside… so the shacks probably closed. Dipper sighed. Wendy wasn’t here either. Guess she had the day off. 

Dipper walked to the counter with the register, and rested his elbows on it. He had to figure this out. Time was still passing. He had to get out of this. Mabel might kill him for cutting her summer over a week short. 

He needed a plan. 

                                             …

He did not come up with a plan. That marked two days since finding out that that were compete busts. He groaned, waking up from another nightmare. Those were some of the only things that changed from day to day. At least there was a little variety. At least he had Fords help now. Hopefully he left himself a note to remember. 

Ugh. Today might have been the groggiest yet. 

Dipper ambled down the stairs. He was getting that coffee. This one doesn’t matter. He was still stuck in today, and unless something crazy happened, he would be tomorrow too. He deserved a break, a cheat day, if you will. It had been over a week of this shit. Today was becoming a full time job. Dipper took a deep breath, and gripped the kitchen doorway. “Out,” he said decisively, really more of a demand, pointing his thumb at the door as he pushed through. 

You were slow, looking up at him with confused eyes for a moment before you tried to come to your feet. Your legs were shaky, and seemed stiff. God, how long do you sit there each day? Dipper looked down at you a moment before turning his head back to the cupboard. 

He scowled when he saw it, his fingers curling around the cupboard panels until the tips turned white. There was none left. “Y/n,” he said, whipping his head around. You were nearly out the door, but stopped like a deer in headlights. “Did you finish-“ he glanced down at the mug in your hand. 

You followed his eyes to the half empty cup, then drifted back up to him. 

Dipper sucked a sigh in through his teeth, approaching you for the first time in… a while. “I need that more than you do,” he said tiredly. 

Timidly, you handed him the cup. His tired reflection swirled in the dark, tepid liquid. Nothing about it looked completely appealing, truth be told. 

“Um, Dipper,” you started, looking at the floor. It was only once you spoke that he realized you were still there in front of him, and hadn’t scurried away. You were tired as always, but your clothes seemed far worse for wear than they did before: decorated with stains, a little dirt and dust. Guess that checks out. If you just slept in whatever you were wearing, you’d never change clothes. Had you not changed clothes all loop? “-and I’m just- just sorry, I guess.”

Oh shit. Dipper blinked a few times, tuning back in. He hadn’t registered much of what you said. You were looking at him expectantly, wide eyes like glass. If there was one thing to note about you, it was how little you looked like Bill. Your mouth was held in a restful frown, and brow raised as you waited. And you body language wasn’t anywhere near the way Bill carried you. Your hands fidgeted at your chest, and the cruel and smug confidence was gone. Dipper couldn’t see Bill at all. Just you. Just you. And you looked rough. 

He sighed. Just you. “Not now, alright?” Dipper said. At least he could look you in the eyes. That was… maybe a first. He couldn’t remember. But he wasn’t started by the movement of your hands, or the flicker of your eyes today. 

And he must not have sounded too harsh, because you didn’t seem too bad after. You nodded, slow at first and then quickly, and turned and shuffled away, and Dipper was alone again. 

He looked into the coffee again, thinking back to the same way the cave puddle swirled when it lured him in. He sighed, slinking back to the counter to lean on as he sipped the, admittedly terrible, coffee. He couldn’t take a cheat day. He had to figure this out. You looked terrible. At least he wasn’t stuck in the same way you or Mabel were. You’d spent the last week sad and on the floor. Dipper frowned, sighing. You didn’t deserve that. As much as he might’ve said otherwise a few todays ago.

Okay. He had to think through this. What does he know? The water lures people in by showing them stuff. Stuff they want. And it’s escapable, Ford was able to do it. But he said it took him a while, and he had no idea how it happened. 

The water seemed to think the thing Dipper wanted was for thing to go back to normal, with you, Mabel, His Grunkles. The stupid puddle might’ve been right. 

The question seemed to be: was there something there? Something to do with that? Or was that just the predatory strategy it used to draw people in? If that was the case, then he was even more fucked, because that was his only lead. The only thing in common between him and Fords experience was the water, and that. 

Dipper paced around the shack. He walked a few circles through the house part, the tourist part, the parlour. He needed a plan. Something with the water… or something with the things in the water… Dipper scratched at his chin. Ugh. There had to be something. Maybe his brain was too tired to think straight. 

He walked through the tourist trapped hallways as he thought, and Dipper stopped dead in his tracks when he heard Stan’s voice a room over. He hadn’t seen Stan a single time in the loop. Mabel said that he was with you in the evening, but it was barely noon. Carefully, he stayed still and quiet enough to listen. “Hey kid,” Stan said. 

He heard vague shuffling noises, and decided he needed to get closer. He edged his way to the wall, careful to keep his steps quiet. 

“Hello,” you said softly. 

Dipper pressed his ear to the wall despite himself. This probably wasn’t his conversation to hear.

Stan’s voice was soft, but confident. “Listen kid, it happens to the best of us. I’m proof of that,” he laughed. Dipper felt his lips curl in into the smallest of smiles. 

You must not have been convinced, because you stayed quiet. 

“You’ll be fine, Y/n,” Stan said. “They’ve all done this before, they know how to bounce back.”

”I don’t want to be in their nightmares,” you said, and Dipper winced. You knew all too well about his. And you weren’t far off. You’d been a feature in most of them lately. He carefully and quietly slumped against the wall to support, and sunk to the floor. It sucked that you were right. 

Stan sighed. “Yeah, that sucks,” he said. Tactful, as always, Dipper thought, rolling his eyes. But Stan wasn’t done, “but you’ll be there to help with those.” Oh. Dipper curled his knees close to his chest. Yeah, normally you would be. 

“I don’t think they want that,” you said. Also right. God, it sucked when you were right. Each word tightened a knot in his chest. 

“They’ll come around. I think Dipshit will just take a bit,” Stan said. 

Dipper decided he should probably stop listening. You weren’t wrong often, and he didn’t want to hear what you had to say about… him. If you were right again, and you didn’t… you weren’t.. if you didn’t think he could come around.

He stood up, slowly and carefully, and kept pacing around. He could get you guys out of this. He had to. Relieving those emotions everyday sounded like hell on earth. 

                                             …

At least the nightmares were getting better. Not great, but less intense, more of a dull ache than a stabbing pain. That was something, right? Dipper went to the kitchen. Guess there was no avoiding you if he wanted to eat. But he might be okay seeing you today. 

Well, there you were. As always. On the floor, this time with a can of peaches, since you’d used up the coffee yesterday. Your face was still blotchy from… probably crying. Guess Dipper couldn’t judge. You were looking up at him with wide eyes full of guilt, and he cringed.

Sighing, he walked over, and slumped down beside you, back to the cupboards. “Hey, Y/n,” he said tiredly. 

You swallowed, clutching the peach can in your lap. “Um, hey, Dip,” you said timidly, throat sounding ragged and rough. You gestured at the can,  “Do you… want some?” 

Dipper smiled weakly, shaking his head. You always offer him whatever you have. “I’m good,” he said. 

He looked you over again. Nothing new, really. At least he wasn’t seeing Bill. The worst part was that he didn’t know what to say to you. It had been a while since you’d both spoken, at least for him. And worse for you; you were probably still recovering from being possessed. 

And he didn’t normally get this close to you. It was only at this angle that he saw the fading bruise on your jaw just past your chin. The spot he hit you with the journal. “Sorry about, uh-“ Dipper started, and gestured at the same place on himself. “Getting you, the other day.”

You shot him a weak smile. “Ah, don’t be,” you said, voice light. “Glad you did. And it… doesn’t hurt much, actually.” 

Yeah, it’s practically healed by now, he thought. Dipper winced thinking about earlier loops. Drinking all that coffee must have hurt. Even now, the bruise was a slight yellow. 

“I’m sorry about getting you, too,” you said, looking at the floor and holding up and tapping your wrist. “Must suck.”

Oh right. Dipper had practically forgotten. He turned over his hand to look at his wrist where your foot had been pressed. It was practically gone. He might’ve been happy it healed if it didn’t mean he’d been in this loop for longer than he’d like. 

“Oh,” you said, eyes catching the same way his did. “It’s-“ you stopped for a moment, and looked back to his face. “I’m glad that didn’t leave much of a mark,” you murmured. 

“It did,” he said, and immediately regretted it. That wouldn’t make any sense to you. Well. You probably  wouldn’t remember tomorrow, anyway. “It, uh, really hurt for a while. I think the bruise is just… healed.”

You smiled, almost laughing. It looked a little unnatural, given your somewhat puffy eyes and dirty clothes. “Well, that’s good,” you said softly. 

Dipper couldn’t help but smile a little. He hadn’t realized how much he missed you these past days. Even if you kind of sucked. “Actually,” he said, pointing at your peach can. “I do want one.” He aimlessly reached up, and pulled open a drawer above him, scrounging around until he found a fork. “May I?” He asked.

Wordlessly, you held the can out to him, and he stabbed a peach slice through. He cupped one hand under it to catch any dripping juice. It was sweet. 

“Hey, Dipper,” you said hesitantly. “I’m- uh, sorry that I got us into this.”

He sighed, wiping a little peach juice from the corner of his mouth. He pursed his lips. “It’s… fine,” he managed. It mostly wasn’t, but whatever. It was fine enough. Nobody died. 

You stared at the floor, putting your can of peaches down so you could fidget with your hands. “Not really though, right?” You said. “I mean, this sucks. I know you and Mabel gotta hate this… and Ford and Stan.” You tapped your fingers against the tile floor, your leg bouncing a little with each word. “I mean, I thought for a second that he was gonna kill you,” you said, finally tuning your eyes back to him.

“I-“ Dipper faltered. You weren’t wrong. It might’ve been your voice bouncing around his head saying: when are you ever? “I couldn’t’ve let him kill me,” Dipper said, completely lacking confidence. And you had to know that. Dipper wasn’t sure who he was lying for: you or him. Bill did almost kill him, and he almost let it happen. 

You looked over at him, eyes wide with worry. “If you say so…” you trailed off. Your eyes held on his a moment longer before you sighed, grabbing your peaches again. “I’m just sorry that this happened. I should have…” you pursed your lips. “I don’t know,” you said.

“It’s…” Dipper swallowed. “It’s not all your fault,” he said, surprising himself. He mostly knew that. “I mean, it is party, but-“ he started, looking at the wall. The kitchens faded wallpaper looked right back, staring through him with its faded stain eyes. “Bill tricks people, it’s what he does. And this wouldn’t never have happened if I just mentioned what he looks like,” Dipper admitted, the weight of the words nearly crushing him. 

You stared at the wall with him, silent for a few beats. The fridge dully hummed in the background. “It’d been a really good summer before all this,” you said wistfully. 

Dipper smiled tiredly at you. “Yeah,” he said, “It was.” Maybe even the best. No, definitely. He thought back on things… he’d really waited years to kiss you, didn’t he? And Mabel was doing shockingly well at flirting this summer, too. And he didn’t realize you and Stan were as close as you were, before yesterday. And at least he had Ford to help him through this.

Oh god. Everything he wanted. You, Mabel, Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford, that’s all that stupid puddle showed him. All he wanted. For things to go back to normal. 

It was like you could read minds. “Do you think things can go back to normal?” You asked, still staring blankly in front of you, the weight of your eye bags bringing down your face. 

Dippers palms were sweaty. Could they? “I- I don’t know,” he stuttered. He licked his lips, suddenly realizing how dry they were. “I want them too.”

You smiled sadly, “well, that’s not the question, is it?” His chest tightened as you curled your legs up closer to you, and stared at the floor by your feet. “I do too,” you sighed, “But I’m not sure they will.”

Well that was the truth, wasn’t it? That he might not get… the only thing he wants. Things might not go back to normal. His face fell, and he stared at you. A wave of grief hit him all at once. He got to study your side profile for a moment before you finally turned to face him, that same sad smile still on your lips. You looked like you’d aged a year in a week. He couldn’t have been doing great, either. It was only, well, yesterday that you’d looked like yourself. 

But that wasn’t you, it was Bill. This is what you looked like now. The same, but different. A little tired. At least you were you, even if you might not be the person from before, anymore. 

You cut through the silence like a butcher, “if things are different,” you started, glancing over at him. He could see you chewing the inside of your cheek. You swallowed, eyes drifting back to the floor. A pained look crossed your face as you took a deep breath,  “I think I could live with that, if I still had you guys with me.”

Dippers mouth hung just slightly open as he stared at you. Oh god. He felt like he’d been hit by a train. If you still had them with you. The words bounced around his… seemingly empty head. He felt a sinkhole in his chest where his heart usually was. If you had them with you. And here he was avoiding you like the plague the last few days, he could almost laugh. If you still had them with you, you could live with it. 

Dipper didn’t realize he was crying until he tasted a tear. Shit. He hastily wiped his eyes on his sleeve. If you had them with you. What did the time puddle show him? You, Mabel, his family? “I think,” he said. It came out weak. He cleared his throat to steady his voice, “I think I could live with that too.”

You looked up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. Your eyes flickered back to the floor, “Well, that’s good.” 

Dipper blinked, his eyes were still watery. You were just a little blurry, as his eyes fixed on your face. Man, you’d barely smiled this whole loop. It almost looked foreign. If I had you with me, huh? Yeah. He’d survive as long as he had them all with him. He smiled, wiping his eyes again. “Hey, I’m sorry for avoiding you these past… last night,” he said, sniffling. “I probably should’ve made sure you were okay.”

You shook your head, “It’s… fine,” you smiled. You crossed your legs, skewering another peach slice on a fork, and offering him the can. He poked another onto his fork, too. “I get it, Dip,” you assured. “Nothing to apologize for.”

Well, you didn’t know the whole story, did you? Dipper sighed, “still, I am. Cheers?” He asked, holding his peach fork out to you. 

You smiled, and clinked your slice against his, “Cheers.”

The kitchen tile floor had a few drops of peach juice on it, and a couple coffee stains from the previous days, but it was still comfortable. Maybe you were into something, sitting here this whole time. Dipper leaned back, his back sliding further down the cabinet. If I have you all with me, I can live with it, he thought. Unfortunately, you had some pretty good words sometimes. Things might not be how he saw them in that dumbass puddle, but… that’s fine. Things had changed before, and he survived. As long as he had his people. He could feel the tears fighting to get out again. 

“I’m going to get you out of this,” Dipper sighed. 

You half smiled, nodding at him, “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he said again. All of this. First the loop, then… the rest. Dipper stood up, brushed himself off, and looked down at you. “I’m going to figure something out,” he promised. 

You smiled, “Go get em‘.” 

                                              …

Dipper tried to. He paced, he thought, he talked to Ford, who wrote himself a note to remember. And they came up with some ideas, some stupider then others. Some plans: what if he drank the water? What if he just told everyone? What if he left Gravity Falls? He talked to Mabel a little. He saw Stan, since this time he didn’t end up comforting you. Guess Dipper did that, himself. Or… more the other way around. He ended the day feeling better then he started. 

He still woke up early, though, still felt sluggish as he went down the stairs. Later then before, though. At least it was light out. Food, and then Ford. And he’d quickly tell you everything was fine while he was there. He smiled when he saw the lights on under the kitchen door.

What. The hell. The kitchen was in fact, empty. Dipper blinked, caught in the doorframe. Where… or, shit. What the fuck happened? He looked around for traces of you. There were still coffee stains on the floor, and an empty can of peaches on the counter… but nothing new. Was he out? 

He thought he would be thrilled to see something change, but instead his heart was stuck in his throat. Where’d you go? 

It wouldn’t make any sense for him to be out, he didn’t do anything. His legs only started to work when he got the idea to find Ford. He stumbled to the vending machine, punched the code, and sped down the stairs. 

Dipper didn’t bother to knock on the study door. “Grunkle Ford,” he said, swinging the door open. “What was yesterday?”

Ford whipped his head around, practically jumping out of his skin. He was standing at the white board, seemingly reading the notes they’d scribbled last time. “We came up with ideas to get you out of a time loop,” Ford said. “But I was thinking-“ 

“-you remember it?” Dipper asked, cutting him off.

Ford nodded, “I do. Can I assume this means something worked?” 

Dipper shook his head. “That wouldn’t make any sense,” he said, pacing closer and around the room. “We had ideas, but… I didn’t do anything.”

Ford sat down as Dipper walked in circles. “You know, I wasn’t sure how I got out, either,” he said. He tapped his fingers along his chin. “Maybe it… ran its course,” he suggested. 

“Only, like, a week…ish?”

Fords mouth hung open, “you’re lucky, mine was months…” he mumbled, fingers still tapping. His eyes were fixed on the floor as he hummed. 

As Dipper paced, he caught Fords face fallen with lament, eyes softening on the floor. “You know, the fountain showed me my brother, and Fiddleford… that’s what it thought I wanted,” he started hesitantly. “By the time I was out, I resented them both, and wanted nothing to do with either.”

Dipper stopped pacing. “I saw… normal stuff,” he said. Things going back to the way they were. Things he’s okay with not having, as long as his family is with him. 

Ford shook his head, “I’m not sure.” He stood up, and wiped off the whiteboard of plans. “Well, no matter,” he said, eraser in hand. “That’s one problem out of the way.”

Dipper nodded idly, still puzzled. He went back upstairs. What day was it? Things looked different outside. When he ascended to the gift shop, it was bright out. Yeah, that was new. He walked the shack aimlessly. Well, he did it. He checked his phone. July twenty-eighth. 

He ambled around, and stopped in front of Soos’ break room. Quietly, he knocked on the door. He felt a little dumb standing alone in the hall when nothing happened. Maybe you weren’t staying in there. 

But then he heard the shuffles. And the door creaked open, you on the other side. “Uh, hey,” you said softly. 

Oh wow. It was a trip to see your face this way. You hadn’t been crying, your eyes weren’t red, you looked… better. Dipper sighed, a weight coming off his chest, “Hey.”

Next

Fellas I just couldn’t resist. I thought this chapter might kill me when I was writing it. Like I thought “hey what if I explored dippers trauma response and the lasting effects of bill” and then it turned into like 13k words between both parts 😭

Taglist: @cipheress-to-k-pop @dead-esque (lmk if you want to be added)

[galaxiasgreen]

🍭☀️A Cruelty Vivid and Sweet

Slow burn angsty Ominis x F!Reader [T-Rated, 10.3k words]

You made him smile that day, and you made him laugh. Though you were strange and he didn't always understand you, he did trust you, and care for you, even when you tried to hide your pain from the world. Just as he knew you'd do the same for him.

In which, after his best friend steals away a Dark relic, Ominis and you try to stop him one last time.

Tropes: angst/ romance/ drama, slow burn, black cat x golden retriever, opposites attract, forbidden love, pure-blood culture, canon rewrite, book!canon compliant, He Comforts You when You're Sad, Valentine’s, the Feldcroft goblin invasion quest, Solomon's Murder.

[FIRST][PREV][NEXT] [read on AO3][read on Wattpad]

4. Cursed

In the depths of the Feldcroft Catacombs, you held him for a long time.

He didn't realise how deeply he had been scarred by the experience, of his friend slowly and surely falling prey to the Dark Arts. Day by day, a petal would fall, plucked from Sebastian's stem until there was nothing left but the withered head.

And Ominis had let it happen, helpless.

Your touch was making it more bearable though, and now that his dam had broken, he felt freer, lighter than he had in weeks. There was something about the way you held him that offered the gift of peace – now, so long into your friendship, your hugs were legendary, known to bring comfort and serenity to any lucky enough to find themselves in your arms.

Your love language was always touch. He, by way of nature, or perhaps upbringing, was not the same – ironic, for someone who interacted frequently with the world by its physical feel.

Yet here he was, moored in the closeness of you.

The first time you hugged him properly, he wasn't expecting it. In third year, when spring was lolling across the Highlands and the sun was hinting at a warmer reprieve, he'd made it to Charms class early only to find you standing at the window opposite the door, sniffling.

"What's the matter?" he asked, heading over to you, combing through all that he'd done the day before.

"I've been really stupid," you said in an injured voice.

"What else is new?"

That got a sad laugh from you.

"I broke my wand."

He sighed. "How in Merlin's name did you manage that?"

"I must've whacked it off my bedside table when I was asleep. Then this morning I stepped on it..."

You pressed the two halves to his palms. Your strange wand, as strange as you were, bisected into two wooden pieces. No magic hummed beneath his fingers anymore – in typical you way, you'd well and truly destroyed it by total accident.

"Am I going to get expelled?" you asked timidly.

"Wizards break wands all the time," he said gently, handing the pieces back to you. "Remember Anne disarmed Sebastian last year, and his wand snapped when it hit the wall?"

"I remember. But..."

"But?"

You hesitated. "It's nothing. I guess I am being stupid."

And though Professor Ronen gave you a pass in Charms, you were melancholic for the rest of the day.

When the weekend came, Ominis, you, Sebastian, Anne, and your Hufflepuff best friend Adelaide Oakes piled into one carriage together bound for Hogsmeade. Sebastian and Anne did most of the talking, arguing about something menial, the properties of bat spleen, with Adelaide's occasional input, who was joining to buy new parchment.

You, on the other hand, were strangely quiet, disconcerting him for the entire ride over. Quiet contemplation was his job. On you, it was a cloak that did not fit.

When they alighted at the Hogsmeade entrance, Adelaide squeezed your arm. "Remember, I have the teashop booked for midday! I'll go get my parchment and quills and meet you in the square in an hour. Don't be late, okay?"

"Okay," you said, wooden.

"That... will give you plenty of time to peruse Honeydukes, won't it?" she said, frowning.

"Yes," you said, brighter now, but Ominis detected a whiff of a lie. "Yes, you're right."

"I have to get more Flobberworm mucus and Dittany stem," said Sebastian, when Adelaide left. "Which one of you will join me?"

"And miss Gibby getting a new wand?" said Anne. "As if."

"Come on, please?" he begged. "I hate the Magic Neep. It's so far away, and the bloke who runs it will blow my ears off when he discovers I donated my Mallowsweet stash to Garreth's latest experiments."

Anne shoved her brother. "Better work on your apologies now."

"Ominis? Best friend?"

"Nice try," said Ominis coolly.

Sebastian blew a raspberry. "Capeflappers, you lot are. I hope all your pillows are warm on both sides tonight."

He must've made a rude gesture as Anne swore when he hightailed away, and you headed to Ollivanders.

He liked the cute ring of the bell when the door opened, and the floorboards creaked when they stepped inside. It reminded him of the first time he'd stepped into the shop in Diagon Alley, frightened but fascinated. The place was strongly scented of wood and polish, and he loved it instantly.

Gerbold came around to the front. "Ah, good morning, you three. It's nice to see familiar faces. How can I help you?"

Ominis and Anne waited for you to say the words: I need a new wand. Instead, you opened your bag.

"Can you fix wands?"

Ominis' brow knitted together. Why would you want it fixed, when a new one was better? You knew wands could not be mended once broken.

"Ah." Gerbold's voice was sad, but he inspected the parts nonetheless. "Cosmetic issues and little damages, yes, but I'm afraid a repair of this scale would require most powerful magic, magic that I'm unfortunately not capable of." The halves clacked together as he returned them to you. "I can, however, get you a new wand."

"How..." you shuffled, "how much is it?"

"Seven Galleons, as always."

"Right."

But you seemed unsteady, reserved.

Strange.

"She'll have a new wand," said Anne, nudging your arm. "You're going to need one for class."

"Yes," you said, but disappointment ribboned through you. "Yes, please."

"Very well. Your old wand was a fun, quirky design," he noted. "Eight inches, unicorn hair core, dogwood. Your new wand will be different. It will see you have matured, and your needs matured with it. Bear with me. I will find you some wands I think might fit you."

When he went around the back, Anne stepped closer to whisper. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing's the matter."

"I'm blind, Gibby," said Ominis, "and even I can see something is the matter."

"Everything's fine," you insisted.

He didn't believe you, and had a feeling Anne didn't either. Gerbold returned with boxes rattling, opening them each, letting you swing them. The first erupted in sparks, crackling like fireworks above – he ducked under the counter with you until Gerbold dispersed them. The second turned Anne's robes into feathers, and the third caused a dust cloud to smack his face.

"Sorry!" you squeaked when he choked.

Nothing a spell from Gerbold couldn't clean. It wasn't until your sixth wand that the pairing happened, causing a warmth on Ominis' skin, and a delighted clap from Anne.

"An excellent choice," said Gerbold graciously. "Rowan wood, dragon heartstring, ten inches. This wand, I sense, will protect you when you need it most."

"Dragon heartstring?"

"A powerful core. I'm sure both Miss Sallow and Mr Gaunt could tell you about it."

His entire family had dragon heartstring core wands – all from the same dragon. He didn't know what to think now that you were the same.

"Is it... bad? That I don't have a unicorn hair core anymore?"

"Not at all. The wand chooses the witch. It will match you, body and spirit. I think you'll find much to enjoy of your new wand."

Still, you didn't seem particularly thrilled. As Gerbold tidied the other wands away, Ominis sensed your gloom like bad weather, preparing to downpour.

"It's a lovely wand," said Anne, and it was clear by her high inflection that she was troubled by your mood as well. "Take care of it, will you?"

"I— I'll be less much less clumsy with it. I will."

There was a strange sort of determination in you.

"May I feel it?" Ominis asked.

You gave it to him, and he smiled once he curled his fingers around it. It wasn't unlike your old one – longer, of course, but also engraved with swirling designs, the shaft a unique undulation, albeit not as crooked as before.

"It... has a handle," he said at last. "I trust you know which way to hold this one?"

But you said nothing when he gave it back. Instead, you packed the box away and tucked your new wand into your pocket, then went to the counter to pay.

"Seven Galleons..." you mumbled.

He presumed you were simply counting – three years and your grasp on wizard currency wasn't great. Perhaps you were mixing them up with shillings. Anne inhaled a shaky gasp as you paid, but said nothing even when they were outside.

"So, to Honeydukes?" he asked.

"I— I think it's too late," you said. "I have to meet Adelaide at the teashop, remember?"

His brow furrowed. "It's not yet midday. You have half an hour—"

"No," you said. "I'm not going today. I'll see you both back at school, all right?"

And you hurried away without another word.

"Not going?" Ominis turned to Anne. "All right, what's wrong with her?"

"You couldn't tell?" She blew from her nose. "Sorry, I guess you couldn't see her facial expressions. It was pretty obvious to me once she paid. I think she had to choose between the wand and sweets. She doesn't have enough money for both."

It stunned him to silence, and he turned to your direction, as if he could still sense the ghost of you there. Though his mother was a notorious spendthrift, pouring Galleons into expensive clothes and jewellery and holidays around the globe, and his father sank his shares into business ventures, political campaigns and land, money had been no object to him, ever. It was a wonder how the Gaunts had anything to their name at all, since Ominis was certain his brothers and sisters, buoyed by their lofty status as Slytherin's descendants, had no well-paying jobs and were about as frugal as a pack of drunken Leprechauns.

He'd never been left wanting for food and clothing, and often had enough to spend on the odd luxury. But Anne – she understood poverty. It was the reason the other pure-bloods disdained her. She'd known your troubles implicitly; Ominis had not, and shame washed over him. He hadn't comprehended such a problem existed until it was happening before him. Until it was happening to you.

He stuck his hands in his pockets. Galleons tinkled within – not much, but enough. He flurried his wand to grasp his bearings.

"Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"Honeydukes."

They didn't spend long in there – Ominis knew exactly what you liked. He bought Fizzing Whizzbees and toffee nougat and as many Chocolate Frogs as he could stuff into the paper bag, making Anne peek inside to see whether the cards could be added to your collection. Red liquorice he bought too, though the strands were thicker than the ones you got from home. He paid for it all with the Galleons in his pocket and didn't think twice about how frivolous it felt to spend all this money on sweets.

For him, it was wasteful. For you, however, it was a pleasure.

There were five minutes to go before you were to meet Adelaide. Anne spotted you loitering by the teashop, hands wringing.

"What's this?" you asked, when he offered you the bag.

"It's for you."

You took it gingerly.

"It— my favourites! Ominis, Anne, did you...?"

"His idea," said Anne.

You whispered to him, "These... are all for me?"

Heat crept to his cheeks then. It was quite flustering to hear the awe in your voice.

"Just... don't eat them all at once. You'll get toothache."

That's when it happened. When he almost stumbled off his feet as your arms wrapped around him and your face buried into his shoulder and your knees bumped his thighs.

"Thank you."

Muffled against his clothes, you said it so earnestly, so full of joy... he wasn't a hugger, anyone could attest, but this... he enjoyed the fierceness with which you held him, embraced him. How nice it was to feel you in return, your happiness made physical.

"I promise I'll pay you back," you mumbled into him.

"You won't. It's a gift."

You squeezed him tighter. A smile overrode his surprise, and he was grinning suddenly, his own mood triumphing. He couldn't tell if it was for the good deed itself, or for its reward.

You extracted yourself as a great drumbeat sounded across the square. The timbre was shortly followed by the energetic string of a lute.

"Is that— it is! Ernie Lark!"

You took his hand in his and dragged him across the square.

"Hey, what—?"

"Let's dance!"

"What?"

Anne was laughing as she ran to catch up. "Yes!"

The violin thrilled the bass notes as you and Ominis neared. "Don't you have to be at the teashop—?"

"I have time for one song." You stopped him next to the band, and took his hands. "Come on!"

He flustered again. "I-I don't dance!"

"Everyone dances!"

It was so absurd that he let himself get swung around with you, your shoes a symphony, your laughter high and wild, your upbeat mood replenished. A small act of kindness from him, and it was like he'd moved the clouds from the sun. His own mood was luminous too – your hug had that effect on him. Soon Anne was laughing, and when she couldn't stop, neither could he – then you were all a giggling mess.

"What are you lot doing?"

Sebastian and Adelaide had come over, paper bags crinkling.

"Dancing!" said Anne.

"You look ridiculous!" Sebastian said, but he was laughing too.

"Join us!" you said.

All of you danced together, a batty group of students, linking arms, amused for no reason at all. Ernie Lark finished the song, rasping for tips, and you dropped two coins into his hat – later he would find out they were Knuts, the last of your pocket change – and hurried off with Adelaide to the teashop.

You made him smile that day, and you made him laugh. Though you were strange and he didn't always understand you, he did trust you, and care for you, even when you tried to hide your pain from the world.

Just as he knew you'd do the same for him.

He didn't feel much better about Sebastian stealing away a Dark Magic relic when he finally stopped crying on your shoulder. You held him, your fingers digging into his arms for support. Though shorter than him now, by quite a lot, you were his support, a column of impenetrable stone in the raging storm – the eye, its calming centre. You smelt of death and decay and blood and dust.

And, peeking through it all, strawberry laces.

"We'll figure this out," you mumbled to him.

"Will we?"

"Be optimistic, Ominis."

"You know that's not who I am. Positivity cannot save everything."

"Neither will relentless cynicism. We have to believe we can help Sebastian, otherwise we'll never be able to." Your grip shuddered. "And we have to trust that Missy will help him too."

He scoffed, though it came out wet and watery. "I trust Missy about as far as I can throw her."

"That's not right." There was teasing in your voice. "Your Depulso could chuck her quite far away."

It was so absurd a mental image he guffawed.

"Come on," you said, snaking your arm around his. "Let's get out of here. Assuming Sebastian doesn't know how to work the relic, we have some time to figure out a game plan."

That was a large assumption, though he didn't think such artefacts often came with an instruction manual.

It took some time to navigate out of the catacombs. As natural light stole the need for Lighting charms, something wrinkled Ominis' nose – the smell of burning that he'd detected when they landed by the entrance. It was stronger now, and strengthened still as you finally broke to the surface world. Night was coming through a swathe of evening breeze and a flutter of nocturnal wildlife, coming awake.

"What is that?" he asked, turning his nose to the air. "Can you smell that too?"

"Like burnt toast, yes," you confirmed. "I don't— oh."

"What?"

"There smoke on the horizon. Coming up north-west..."

You seemed to realise at the same time he did. Suddenly you were both running, eating the ground in great strides until the hillock was beneath you, and the air was stale with smoke.

"Feldcroft," you said, stunned. "I-It's— burning."

But— Sebastian. Solomon. Anne.

"We have to go. Now."

You didn't hesitate. You grabbed the broom and yanked him on. Lust be damned, he held onto you like nothing else mattered, a small comfort in the fear that ran circles in his head. Was it simply arson, Ashwinders that had grown too bold? Or worse? Was it Ranrok's grunts, coming down from Rookwood Castle for a second taste of wrath? What if Sebastian and Anne were hurt?

Or killed?

"Oh, gosh, Ominis—" you called.

"What is it?"

"There's— so many dead bodies." A short pause. "Goblin! Mostly goblin!"

The goblins attacked?

Though you steadied the momentum quicker, you landed the broom hard again, but he was more prepared for it, bending his knees on impact. He'd broken into a run in seconds.

"Sebastian?" he called into the chaotic din. "Anne?"

No answer.

"This way," you said, pulling him.

He was disorientated when you led him to the Sallow house. The smell was all wrong, the feel. Feldcroft was his true home, and yet all he could taste was Dark Magic and bloodied steel and the bitter stench of death. You summoned water as you went, quenching the worst of the flames.

"Sebastian!" you yelled as you banged on the front door. "Anne! Mr Sallow—"

The door swung open – relief filled Ominis at Solomon's voice.

"You two!"

But it wasn't friendly. It was gruff and growling, like a wolf over newly-whelped pups.

"Stay outside!" he commanded. "Don't you dare set a foot—"

"Is Anne all right?" Ominis asked desperately.

"She's fine—"

"And Sebastian?" you asked.

But up reared that disgust. Ominis had never heard anything like it, even when they'd argued during the summer holidays.

"Sebastian and that girl have been barred from coming into this house, into this village! You two better not have been encouraging him and his Dark Magic!"

Dark Magic? Had he showed Solomon the relic? He had confessed to using the Cruciatus Curse on you?

You were confused too. "I-I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about."

"We don't know where he is, or Missy," Ominis said. "Please, may we see Anne?"

Solomon seemed to consider this.

"You can see Anne, Ominis. You," he said to you, "stay outside."

Hurt crossed you. "But, Mr Sallow—"

"That's final."

Ominis faced Solomon. "Please, I implore you—"

"No," you said, letting him go. "No, it's... it's okay. Give Anne my love. I'll— see if there's anything I can do for the villagers."

So Ominis stepped into the Sallow residence. Alone.

It was warm – unbearably so. The hearth burnt, the wood cracking and breaking, but it could not disguise the smell of Dark Magic that rippled like flies over the dead. The house was once familiar, but though the furniture had not moved and the place seemed unharmed in the attack, the alien, hostile aura was unsettling. Solomon shut the door and sank into the chair.

"It's a mess, Ominis."

"How, sir?"

"Sebastian," was all he said. "Anne is in the other room. I'll ask if she's up to seeing you."

He stepped out. Ominis paced, as he was wont to do when he was nervous – a terrible habit he'd never been able to break. The memories of the Feldcroft Catacombs lay fresh in his mind like new bedsheets – what more could Sebastian have possibly done in such a short amount of time?

Solomon returned. "She'll see you."

"Thank you."

"You have a good head on your shoulders." Displeasure curled through his tone. "I hope my nephew hasn't led you astray."

He let him pass.

For years, Anne had shared this space with Sebastian, two beds shunted to opposite sides of the wall, with Ominis on a makeshift one on the floor. They'd eaten sweets and played Gobstones and gossiped until the early hours of morning, sometimes about things that mattered, what they wanted to do in future, or the difficulties of family, and sometimes about the silly things, what they could eat every day forever, or which teacher they fancied the most. Every time, they enjoyed each other's company. In more recent years, Anne had taken to freshening the place with incense and flowers – to scrub away 'eau de Teenage Boy', as she'd snarkily put it.

Today, however, it reeked of mud and dirt, and tears drying on leather. It was heated, but not warm. He didn't feel welcome here. He didn't feel like this was his home.

She shifted in her bed, and Ominis closed the door. "Anne—"

"Ominis," she said, breathless. "I— I can't... Sebastian..."

His pulse quickened. "What happened? I know goblins attacked. Sebastian—"

"Came to stop them, him and Missy both. Ranrok's loyalists were ransacking the place out of retaliation."

"Against him?"

"Against her."

Missy? "But... but why—?"

"It doesn't matter!" A new sob wormed its way up her throat, and Ominis came to her bedside, held her trembling hand. Her wrists were so thin and delicate, atrophying from the curse. "Sebastian— he and Missy got here when the goblins were destroying the marketplace. We— Uncle Solomon and I— we were doing our best to fend them off. Missy helped clear out the majority of them, but when they surrounded me, Sebastian—" She choked. "He used the Imperius Curse."

The wind left his lungs.

"On a goblin?"

Anne let out a tremulous breath.

"On all the goblins, Ominis. It... it was a massacre."

He couldn't even fathom something so awful.

"He killed them all?"

"Every last one. Like puppets." She gripped his arm then, buried her face into his neck, tears streaming. "Some of them— they screamed when he made them kill themselves. They begged for mercy."

How did he know the Imperius Curse? How was he proficient enough to use it on so many, all at once? Far be it from him to feel pity for Ranrok's stooges, but even this garnered a strong surge of sympathy, and a stronger surge of disturbance. They killed themselves because of him.

How, how, how?

Is it my fault? The thought crossed him at once, even though he had been vehemently against the Dark Arts for so long, fighting Sebastian in naught but this. Did he see the successes of my family name, of my ancestor, and think he could do the same?

"What am I to do?" she whispered into his shoulder. "Why, when I beg him to stop, does he not listen?"

"I— I don't know."

She leant back. "I forgive and forgive and forgive his search for a cure— but where do I draw the line? At what point is it madness, to let him continue? What happens next, when he thinks it's okay to use the Killing Curse?"

"It won't come to that," Ominis said, stronger now. "I will make sure."

"Swear to me, Ominis."

It was a faint echo of a broken promise.

But unlike Sebastian, he intended to keep his word.

"I swear."

It didn't seem to reassure her much. At all, actually. It was beyond the point of comfort, when evidence to the contrary was just past the wall.

"Gibby is outside," he pivoted quietly, hoping to raise her spirits. "She's hoping to see you."

She sniffled. "Solomon doesn't trust her, not like he does you."

"I know, but I can talk him down."

"I... I'm sorry." She swallowed. "I want to be alone."

He nodded, going to leave, but her grip strengthened suddenly – a moment of the old Anne flaming back to life.

"And I want you to hold tightly to her goodness," she said, "and never let her go."

Outside, decay festered. The villagers were slower returning from their hiding places, taking stock of the bodies, the hamlet besmirched once more by the terrible coming of a war no one wanted any part of. All the fires had been put out, and he heard you by the fountain, helping to shovel debris away – almost comical in the moment, that you'd forgotten you had a wand to help you with physical labour.

You panted and set the shovel down when he reached you. "How is she?"

"Terrible," he admitted.

"It— I don't blame her. The villagers mostly hid during the attack. I think they were relying on Mr Sallow to keep them safe, retired Auror and all. Of course Anne felt compelled to help... Ominis, every single one of these bodies has been stabbed with their own swords."

He didn't need to explain. You seemed to have figured out the truth already. Solomon's accusations and the evidence before you were enough to piece together the truth.

"Any news on Sebastian?" he asked.

"None."

He was no doubt somewhere licking his wounds after being banished. "And Missy?"

"Someone saw her running east. I can try to track her again like at the catacombs?"

It was an idea, though you were aware it might not work. Missy, after all, could've flown straight out of here. Still, you cast Revelio, and set off after a set of footprints going east out of the hamlet and up the incline.

It was him that caught a thread of something that didn't belong to nature. A voice on the wind. As he quietened you and headed closer, the voice clarified into great, wracking sobs, enough to lurch his chest. A strange noise, coming from someone so used to conquering, to firmness and strength.

You headed up the hill, determined to find her, and he followed, less certain.

Missy was sitting on the crest of the hill, heaving with sorrow. You went up to her at once, causing her to startle and draw coarse sleeves across her face.

"Gibby, Ominis—"

"Oh, Missy."

You gave her a mythic hug. You didn't ask. You didn't need to. Missy seemed to calm, and when you withdrew, she inhaled sharply again.

"Please excuse me, I—"

"Don't be daft. There's nothing to excuse."

"You know, then? You know what—" Another sharp intake of breath. "You know what happened."

"We know."

Missy settled. You sat down. He sat next to you, chilled as the wind cut through them. Strange that, though smoke lay waste to his senses, he could smell your soap and the dye in Missy's hair, an unruly concoction.

"Stupid, imprudent Sebastian," she said. "I'm not afraid of the Dark Arts, but I know the boundaries of its use. Sebastian— doesn't."

"I could've told you that," said Ominis. Probably not helpful, but it was truth. "You saw him, then? He used the Imperius Curse?"

"On all of the goblins, yes."

It was still unthinkable.

"Where is he now?"

"I don't know. No doubt gone to figure out how to work the thing."

And the sacrifice it would feed upon, too.

You all lapsed into silence. You and Missy were watching the hamlet in the distance, he assumed. Watching the sun set on a tainted day. He bowed his head, shut his eyes. Fatigue had overcome him suddenly, from battling spiders to arguing with his best friend to this – and he wondered how this was all going to end, how Sebastian's obsession would ultimately come to head.

Expulsion?

Death?

The loss of his best friend, either way?

"Anne told me the goblins attacked in retaliation," he said, changing the subject before his emotions wrangled him. "They were retaliating against you."

Missy didn't answer immediately. "It's true."

"What did you do?"

"I stormed Rookwood Castle with Professor Fig not so long ago."

"What?" you bellowed. "Missy, are you off your rocker? They're the ones that cursed Anne!"

"I know. It's not what you think. I didn't do it for fun."

"Then why?"

But she didn't answer. Always cryptic.

"Am I to presume," said Ominis, "that you killed many of them?"

Another long pause. "Yes, I did."

"Missy..." you mumbled.

"I will not have your judgement," she snapped. "If I could've walked in there without bloodshed, I would've. I had a very good reason."

"Let me guess," Ominis muttered. "Redemption?"

He thought that would dig under her skin, like it had done in the catacombs, but she was simply silent. Infuriating. There were many things about Missy he didn't understand – the aura surrounding her, her tendency to keep dangerous secrets. Even the way she wielded magic was baffling, like nothing he'd ever experienced before. He'd never sympathise with the creatures that cursed Anne and murdered countless others, but Missy made it very difficult to feel anything other than animosity either.

"You don't agree with Sebastian taking the relic," he said. "So why help him at all? And don't lie, it's more than helping Anne at this point."

You were soft and sweet. "It's because you like like him, isn't it?"

She spluttered. "I-I don't know what you—"

"Come off it. If Ominis figured it out—"

"I resent that."

"— then it must be really obvious."

Grass rustled.

"His intentions are noble," she said, voice garbled in a way that meant she'd buried her head between her knees. "And he's— charming."

That he could agree with. Sebastian could talk his way through most situations, even those where he was in trouble, a skill he never learnt but had a unique penchant for, in a way Ominis would never understand.

All throughout their school years their peers had thrown themselves at his feet – near Valentine's Day in fourth year, Ominis caught him with Penelope Prendleghast, a then fifth-year, in the greenhouses.

He heard that soggy peeling as their lips parted. "O-Ominis—" spluttered Sebastian.

With as much grace as a troll, Ominis swung around. "No! No. I'm leaving now."

It was moments like those that he was grateful he didn't have sight.

"You two seemed... rather intertwined," Ominis said to him later that day, when they were back in the greenhouse doing what they were supposed to be doing – potting Venomous Tentacular. "A fifth-year too? Did you pay her?"

Sebastian laughed. "Only in charm and good looks."

"Then perhaps she was desperate? Or blind? Though as a blind person I can tell you which one I think."

"You're a true comedian, Ominis." He let out a sheepish noise then. "Actually, I'm glad you interrupted. It was really gross."

"Oh?"

"I didn't expect it to be so... wet."

Ominis choked up a laugh. "You're doing something wrong if it's wet."

"How many girls have you snogged to reach that conclusion?"

"A gentleman never tells."

"So none."

It was none, but Ominis wasn't too fussed.

"If you had to snog someone," said Sebastian, egging him on, "who would you choose?"

You popped into his head then. He fought to push you down.

"I don't know, Professor Garlick?"

"You devil! You're lucky she's in the other greenhouse right now." Then a sly laugh – Sebastian had seen right through his faux answer. "It's Gibby though, right?"

Ominis rammed soil into the pot. This was long after your argument in the Undercroft.

"Don't be crass, Sebastian. We're no longer friends."

"That wasn't a no."

It wasn't, but he didn't need to know that. "And what if I said Anne?"

"Contrary to the laws of older brothers, I would support you, but I don't have to think about my sister and my best friend kissing, because I know she's not the one you dream about at night. Gibby has nice lips, you know."

Ominis decided not to grace that with a response. But it was true – you did have nice lips. All the times he felt your face told him so. He just couldn't imagine them on his.

Smiling, sweet, addictive...

"You're blushing," Sebastian noted. "Thinking about taking her pretty face in your hands, are you? Pulling her close and smooching her, tasting all those sweets on her tongue—"

Ominis chucked soil at him.

Valentine's was one of your favourite times of year though. No one celebrated it much – not like you did. You made cards and gifts, insisting on sharing the love with everyone you knew. Very often you stole into the kitchens to make truffles and share them out with your friends. Ominis got a whole box of them, along with Sebastian and Anne.

Not this year though. This year, he would get none.

Sebastian was tossing candied pineapple into his mouth before Transfiguration on the day itself. Ominis was practicing his wandwork when the owl shot through the window, tumbled around in air, squawking, and dropped something on Sebastian's desk with a clatter.

"It's... a hair-crimping potion? And a love letter. From Sacharissa Tugwood... Says that I'm fetching and if I'd like to go to Hogsmeade."

"I suppose I'll have to take your word on that," Ominis mused. "So? Will you accept?"

"No." He crumpled the letter. "She's obsessed with her looks. Bit of a turn-off."

"Pot calling the kettle black?"

Sebastian shoved him. "Where's all your love letters then?"

Ominis never got any. He suspected, because he hung around with Sebastian, his much more amiable, and supposedly handsome, companion, all considerations went to him. It was fine, really, and Ominis didn't want the hassle. That is, until a much more concerning thought crossed him – he was the blind, runt son of the austere House of Gaunt. And inbred, at that. It was no secret his grandparents had been related, and his parents cousins once-removed. Why him and his siblings were... different.

What would he do, if it were true? If his very nature was... off-putting? He couldn't change it. He was himself, forever more.

Still, he gave off an air of nonchalance. "My love letters are all lost in the post, I imagine."

"All none of them," said Sebastian, putting on that ridiculous air again. "You know, if you made up with Gibby—"

"Not happening."

"— then you'd be getting a swell box of truffles today—"

"Unless you plan to Transfigure your pineapple into a goblet, Mr Sallow," Professor Weasley's office door shut behind her, "I suggest you put those away before I confiscate them."

Sebastian swerved so easily, laughed so genially. Charm. It was natural. "Sorry, Professor. Would you like one? It's Valentine's Day, and even teachers deserve some appreciation once in a while."

She barked a laugh. "Nice try, young man, but no. Away."

He tucked them into his bag as you burst into the classroom.

"Sorry! Sorry, Professor. I know I'm a little late."

"That you are. Care to explain why?"

Your brilliance was like a dawn chorus. "Making Valentine's gifts."

Weasley seemed endeared by this, despite her admonishment. "You can make as many gifts as you like... after class. Quickly now, to your seat."

You hurried to your place, and over the course of the lesson, whilst they were turning butterflies into bells, you were sneakily handing out cards and truffles to all your friends. Adelaide and Evangeline and Arthur, and Natsai and Cressida and Garreth.

And Leander.

"Wow, thank you, Gibs," he said to you, probably grinning a fool. "I-I didn't get you anything."

"You don't have to. It's for fun!"

Leander Prewett. How that annoying simpleton had earnt your attention, Ominis would never know. The boy was singing your praises, thick as marzipan. Best truffles he'd ever tasted, he claimed to all who could hear. Which earnt you both reprimand for eating during class.

When the lesson finished and Weasley dismissed everyone, you approached Sebastian as Ominis was packing away his satchel.

"For you!" you said cheerfully.

"Why, thank you, Gibby," he said airily. "I'll add them to my hoard of Valentine's chocolates I've got from all my admirers. I'll get back to you in – two weeks? Rough estimate, might be longer."

"Don't be a hornswoggler," you said, whatever that meant. "You know mine will be the best."

"If this is your way of confessing your undying love for me, you'll have to get in line."

You scoffed. "Your own reflection wouldn't have you, Sebastian Sallow."

Then you passed Ominis' desk, and didn't say a word.

The rejection stung.

It still did, a year later, even after he'd made up with you and Valentine's Day was coming in a few months' time. Secretly he looked forward to your truffles again.

But Christmas was before. Your second favourite holiday. And it was a rare one indeed, when you, he, Sebastian and Missy all agreed to stay at Hogwarts for the holidays. Ominis to avoid his family, like every year, Sebastian because he was banished from his home, and you and Missy to keep watch on him. Sheer luck had sent all the other pure-blood families home – not a single Malfoy, Fawley, Black or Ellingboe, which meant less pressure to hide your friendship. You wore long tweed skirts and woollen jumpers, and he shirts with the top buttons undone, and loose trousers meant for riding. With Missy you played Exploding Snap and ate food and tried to search for Sebastian, often in vain. Even on the day itself, he wasn't there. The castle was too large to find him, and he never stayed in the Slytherin dungeons anymore.

The owl, however, appeared when you were with him, in the Quad Courtyard.

Please can we talk? Usual place, 9pm. Come alone.

It had been some weeks after the Feldcroft debacle. Anne had told Ominis she was receiving letters from her brother daily, trying every moment to convince him to meet. Term was restarting in two days and he didn't know how long Anne could put him off – he knew Sebastian to be stubborn, and Anne to be forgiving of even the most fatal flaws where her brother was concerned.

His face must've shown his displeasure, as you took the letter from his hands and rubbed your thumb across a few times.

"He's— asking to talk? Tonight, I think?"

"Yes." You gave the letter back, but he simply tore it. "I shouldn't go."

"He might be remorseful."

"When have you ever known Sebastian to show remorse?"

"Fair point." You hesitated. "I can come if you want? I know it says alone, but..."

"No." He rubbed his temple. "I'll go alone. I'll see what he wants."

So at nine o'clock on the dot, you watched Ominis climb into the lift shaft by himself, promising to wait for him on the stairs. On his descent, back erupting with gooseflesh, Ominis resolved not to argue with his friend anymore. He was tired of it, drinking more and more hatred from the well that remained permanently full within him.

When the grille lifted, Sebastian was there, pacing. Each boot step stoked Ominis' nerves.

"Hello," he greeted stiffly.

Sebastian cleared his throat. "Hello. Thank you for coming."

"What do you want then?"

"Don't start like that. Please. I... don't like to fight with you, Ominis."

"You do make it spectacularly easy."

No response to that.

Instead, Ominis came further inside, until Sebastian was before him.

"You summoned me, and here I am. So I'll ask again," softer now, "what do you want?"

"I've figured out how to use the relic."

He might as well have drawn the rug from beneath his feet.

"You're really going to risk it, aren't you?"

"I am. Anne and I— we've come to an agreement."

There was too much to unpack in that statement.

"You saw Anne? When?"

"A few days ago. She— Solomon wants to leave Feldcroft, move somewhere else." His breathing became aggravated. "It's our home. The goblins can't chase us out of there."

"I think it has more to do with you than them, Sebastian."

"I asked her to stall, and then I— told her about the relic. She's agreed to try it on two conditions. The first, that this be the last thing I try. If this doesn't work, then... then I give up." He seemed to push the words through clenched teeth. "The second is that you're there."

Ominis was surprised at that, and a little touched.

"She trusts you, is why," Sebastian said. "So... will you come?"

"And what did you find out about the relic?" Ominis asked, because he'd be damned to get into more of this mess without a thorough explanation. "What is the Dark sacrifice required to make it work?"

"It summons Inferi. It controls them."

"That's all?" Ominis scoffed. "It's an artefact of Salazar Slytherin, and you think prodding around some Inferi will be the only price? Remember the Scriptorium, when Gibby ended up getting badly hurt?"

"It predates Slytherin, actually. I've researched it."

"Perhaps not hard enough."

"Hate your ancestor however much you want, fine. But what about me?" His voice became a whisper. "Do you trust me?"

That was a long, complicated answer, and he knew, when he didn't answer right away, he'd hurt Sebastian where it mattered.

"I... I know I'm rash, and I'm single-minded when it comes to Anne. But this matters to me. I need you to understand that, Ominis. This matters more than anything else – more than my own life. I'd never do anything to intentionally hurt you, or her, or Gibby and Missy, or anyone. I just— I just want my sister to live the life she deserves."

Missy had said it, Ominis knew it, yet here it was on full display – Sebastian and his silver tongue, his perfectly timed inflections and vigour. He did believe what he was saying, and for many years that was enough for Ominis – he would immediately cave. But now it came with doses of scepticism large enough to paralyse a man.

"I cried, you know. After you left the catacombs."

"Ominis—"

"You left with a trail of broken promises behind you. Time and time again, I've been taken for a fool. I struggle to trust you, Sebastian, that's the reality of this. How do I know you're telling the truth? How do I know this is the last thing you'll do?"

"Because there will be nothing left for me to do. If this doesn't work, then— then I have nothing. Anne will have closure, and that will be peace enough for me. Please." A faint grip on his shoulders. "You're my best friend. You're the last person I want to argue with. If anything goes wrong, I— I want you there."

His hands promptly dropped at Ominis' expression. Everything coursed through him then – frustration, anger, a sorrow so deeply sown it was impossible to dig up. He thought of Sebastian, all those years ago at Malfoy Manor, unseated by his parents' death, but still noble, defending his honour, defending Ominis' honour. He thought of the first day of school, whispering to one another in the dorms when Anne had gone to bed, their friendship new and budding, and he thought of the mischief they'd got up to since. Sebastian had comforted him after the Cruciatus Curse, and all his family woes since. There was you, too, and your shenanigans. Could he let it all disappear, dissolve like ash on the wind?

I will not stop fighting for him. He'd said that, in the catacombs. It would be easy to let go, to turn away. The harder choice was to stay and fight, as he promised he would. Sebastian was action, Ominis was reason – a balance perfectly maintained.

But how far would he chase after his friend for the sake of nostalgia? To the ends of the earth? Off a steep cliff?

Into the loving embrace of Dark Magic?

"All right," he said at last. "I will be there."

Relief spilt from Sebastian. "Thank you."

"But this is the last chance I give you. There will be no more begging after this, Sebastian, and I swear," Ominis flashed his teeth, "if you do anything that could put anyone in harm's way, including yourself, I will stop you. I don't care how, and I don't care if it makes you angry. I don't care. Do you understand?"

"I understand. For real, this time." Sebastian took a step back. "I have some things to prepare, but with Solomon threatening to leave we'll have to do it soon. Tomorrow, maybe. I'll let you know."

"And Gibby?" he asked, only because there was no way you wouldn't get involved. "She's waiting upstairs."

But Sebastian was forthright. "No. She can't come. Nor Missy."

"Why not?"

"They just— can't. I don't want to involve more people than I have to. Missy's going through her own... stuff... and I think it's best if Gibby stays away. You... care about her, I think you'll agree."

But you were part of this now, as much as he was. "They care about you. After everything, you'd cast them out? Missy has fought at your side every step of the way!"

"She has enough on her plate. Gibby, you said it yourself: anything Slytherin-related is risky around a Muggle-born. And, well," a tired amusement, "if something happened to her, you'd kill me."

"I would, but you said something yourself too, long ago. She's tenacious, and too loyal to us." And you could take care of yourself.

He wasn't entirely won over, but did agree that, if kept at a safe distance, you and Missy could be backup in case of dire need. So when they both left the Undercroft, and Sebastian fielded your questions, hurrying back to the common room, you waited as he told you everything.

"This is madness," you spluttered. "I can't believe you agreed!"

"Anne agreed," he said, "and if she agreed—"

"If she told you to slap your thighs and do the Polka, would you?"

"That's not fair, Gibby."

"What's not fair," you insisted, "is Sebastian getting second, third, a billion chances. It's not fair on you, nor Anne, nor me nor Missy. That thing will control the Inferi, right? How many? Does it summon them, too? How big is its range? There's too many questions—"

"What do you expect me to do?" You flinched – he heard you. "I agree, Sebastian uses the relic. I say no, Sebastian uses the relic without me there anyway."

You chafed, because you knew it was true. It was better to keep watch than to let him play by himself.

"Then— this is a stupid idea."

"I know."

"And something's very wrong when I'm the one saying that."

"Oh, how the tables turn." His smile was tired, wan. "You will come, won't you? It would... comfort me, to know you're there."

You squeezed his hand, touch brief. "Of course I'll be there."

Sebastian's plea came through later that evening, his prediction correct. They'd do it the next night.

Ominis struggled to sleep.

By the following evening, his nerves had been shot, his wand hand restless enough to drum it against his thighs. Sebastian claimed to have prepared everything. Missy didn't like the idea, but she was more willing to try it than you. She wasn't afraid of the darkness like you were.

Sebastian picked a spot outside the Feldcroft Catacombs, the night sky their witness, the trees their guard. It was cold, even beneath layers of robes and a scarf. You were shivering the entire flight over, no matter how tightly he held you – Sebastian's choice of area was empty and relatively flat, the ideal spot to test the artefact for the first time.

So it went. Ominis, Sebastian and Anne, and you and Missy, waiting a polite distance away.

The five of you, together at last.

Anne, however, was having second thoughts.

"I— I really don't think we should do this."

"We've come this far," Sebastian was saying, working that inexplicable verbal magic as he prepared Slytherin's spellbook, open at his feet. "You said you would. One last shot."

"I— I know what I said, but—"

"Your curse can be reversed, Anne. You can walk around outside without having to think about the nearest resting place. You can stay up all night and eat bad food and run around. You can come back to school with me – with Ominis and Gibby, and you can get to know Missy better. You won't have to feel helpless every time the pain comes, and worry about the next when it doesn't." His voice was parched. "You can be normal again."

Anne hesitated – and perhaps, all this time, Ominis had underestimated how much she wanted it, how much she craved that sense of normalcy she'd been forced to abandon. Maybe that was why she forgave so much, why she bequeathed Sebastian chance after chance. Because it was never about Sebastian saving his sister – sometimes it was Anne saving herself.

Once, she had been just a girl, with her boisterous brother and silly friends. Now the future she dreamt of had been stolen.

"I promised, didn't I?" he said quietly. "This was my last chance."

"It is," she whispered. "I swear it, Sebastian—"

"I know."

They hugged. Ominis waited. Someone sniffled – and they sounded too alike for him to decipher who.

"Let's start."

Ominis took several steps back, clenching his wand, as Anne did the same, leaving Sebastian in the middle. It reassured him to know you were behind him, vigilant. Sebastian began to mutter, and the change was subtle at first, like lake water to river, or a slight dip in temperature. Ominis detected it, raising the hairs on his neck, shortly following the smell – thick, not necessarily bad, but tangy. He wet his lips with it, uncertain.

That's when he heard the first cry. Far, far in the distance.

He swung around. It wasn't a human scream – more the first rasping from a long slumber. Something dashed by his feet. A sharp fork of lightning.

"Watch out!" Sebastian cried, but he sounded confident. "This thing— it's volatile!"

Ominis raised his wand, honing his senses. He'd have to be careful.

That noise again in the distance. Then again. Only until he heard it a fourth time, closer now, did he realise, this was it.

The Inferi were rising.

"Don't worry, they're under my command!" Sebastian still oozed confidence. "Hang tight, Anne! We can do this!"

"Wait—" Missy cried, and Ominis inclined his ear towards her, far back. "Wait, something— something's not right."

He heard footsteps then, sprinting away. Yours.

Where the hell were you running off to?

The relic droned, and the ground shook suddenly – Ominis almost lost his footing. It seemed to happen at once. The fields of rolling green and patchwork dirt quaked suddenly, disturbed by a great upheaval of charged magic – Dark Magic. It ricocheted in Ominis' bones. Another branch of lightning struck by his feet.

Then there you were – at his side.

"Sebastian!" you screamed. "Stop!"

"What?" Ominis asked, at the same time Sebastian said, "Why? We've only just—"

"You must stop!" you cried. "The Inferi— they're going to Feldcroft!"

All too late did Ominis sense it. Those cries in the distance. They were near the settlement.

"No—" Sebastian gave a laugh. "No, the Inferi are being controlled by me. They're coming here—"

"They're not. I can see the hamlet from the perch!"

"Sebastian—" said Anne, unsure.

"We've only just started! The relic hasn't even reached its full—"

Boom. Ominis was knocked off his feet – wand flying clean from his grasp. He sucked in a breath, but the air was a gale around him. Sebastian was yelping, struggling to stay upright.

"It— it's working!"

Ominis braced his hands and knees. Somehow the relic was broadcasting a heartbeat, Anne's heartbeat. Like a drumbeat on his skin, weak but steady and getting stronger by the moment. It was impossible. He wouldn't have believed it if all his senses weren't offering this truth.

Something punched through the ground in front of him – an Inferi, escaping the tombs far below. My wand. Without it he was helpless to defend himself.

You were screaming. "Sebastian, please!"

"It's working, Gibby! Anne is being—"

"They're going to attack the hamlet! They're going to kill defenceless people!"

This time Anne's voice was a keening croak. "I-I feel— strange."

You were okay – a small victory in the panic slowly overcoming Ominis' anticipation. If Sebastian was controlling the Inferi, why were they going to Feldcroft? He wobbled towards Anne through the chaos, making to avoid an Inferi until it swung a clean blow to his jaw. Pain smacked him at once, and he staggered backwards, tasting blood.

"Hey!" Sebastian was shouting at them. "Don't attack them!"

But the Inferi were screeching now, their taste for death unquenchable. Someone blasted his attacker to pieces.

"Ominis!" yelled Missy. "Your wand!"

He scrabbled for it in the grass, wasting precious seconds, before struggling towards Anne, taking her by the arm.

"Anne—!"

"No—" Her voice was slippery and strange. "No— the hamlet—" She gripped him back, stronger than he'd ever felt her. "You must stop him."

"But— your health—"

"Is not worth our home!" she said. "You swore to me, Ominis. Remember?"

And she was right. This wasn't what he agreed to. The realisation sank through him like cold mud. The Inferi weren't under control. They'd endangered all their lives.

"Sebastian!" he cried, turning towards his friend. "You cannot condemn Feldcroft like this!"

"They have Solomon!" Sebastian grunted. "They have—"

"One Auror against hundreds!" Missy shrilled too. "You have to stop!"

Droves of Inferi tore through the grass now, desperate for breath and night sky. Missy summoned his wand and battled towards him, blasting and blasting, felling them one by one until they were ash. Was this the sacrifice, then? Hordes of the uncontrollable undead, for Anne? Was this satisfactory payment for her health?

"Then go!" Sebastian cried. "You and Gibby— protect them!"

"I've lost my wand!" you cried. Then, "I'm coming to you!"

"No, don't!"

But you struggled towards him nonetheless. Because of your Muggle heritage, you were always practical. You wanted to give your support, or snatch the thing away – Ominis never found out which.

"Gibby, wait!" This wasn't supposed to happen; you were meant to stay away. "Accio wand!"

Your quirky wand flew into his hands, the designs swirling, the shaft a unique undulation. Besides him, Anne gave a great lurch, and her heartbeat throbbed. Painfully.

"No— it's stopped working!" Sebastian yelled over the maelstrom – finally, a note of confusion. "Why isn't it—?"

Your voice was nearly next to his. "Let me help you!"

"No, don't touch—!"

The relic gave another thundering roar, this time deafening, loud enough that it forced Ominis to clap hands over ears. You screamed suddenly, blown back by the force.

"No!" Missy cried.

Wind sheared around him, and he had to crouch, claw a hand into the grass to support himself, make sense of his surroundings. Anne gasped; her heartbeat strengthened.

"It— it's working again!" Sebastian was dizzy with elation. "Anne, you're being cured!"

But something wasn't right. The relic seethed like a thousand insect wings, and the Inferi were still coming up en masse. As Missy reached him, supporting Anne's weight, Ominis cracked bolt after bolt, causing the grass to singe and crisp.

Nothing about this made sense. The Inferi at Feldcroft, the Inferi attacking when they were supposed to be under control... He pointed his wand skywards, about to summon the relic from Sebastian's hands.

Then you choked.

Panic seized Ominis in a vice grip as he turned back towards you. You keened again, making a noise that would haunt his nightmares, and your knees hit the ground with a squelch, your gasp watery with blood.

He pivoted despite the hell around him. "No, no!"

"Stay with Anne!" Missy commanded. Only, when she reached you, all but panic remained. "Gibby, come on— stay with us—"

"The relic!" Anne shrieked. "Sebastian, it's killing her! Stop!"

It hit Ominis then. The relic was no longer content with the Inferi.

It sought to have you as well.

Sebastian hacked out in realisation. "Get her out of here, Ominis! It's nearly done! Anne is nearly—"

"Accio relic!"

The relic zoomed over his head... right into Solomon's hand.

"What have you done, boy?"

The storming chaos ceased, letting Ominis scramble towards you. With no master, not even a poor one, an Inferi shambled into his path, lifting its arm to swing, shrieking. Ominis reduced it to dust in one go. Terror had amplified his senses, his affinity for magic, and when the Inferi surrounded you, lying defenceless, he spewed the flames in a continuous, angry stream.

"Give that back!" Sebastian was screaming at his uncle. "I had it! I nearly had it! I—"

"You nearly killed the girl!" Solomon snarled. "You nearly killed yourselves!"

"It was curing Anne! It was working!"

Ominis landed at your side. You were shaking, struggling to breathe, your hands clenching and unclenching, your teeth chattering, heartbeat erratic.

"Gibby— listen to me, wake up—"

"There's some dark energy around her," Missy said, frantic. "It— she doesn't look good—"

"Don't say that!" He couldn't bear the thought. "Help her!"

"I-I don't know how!"

"Leave— leave me alone," you were mumbling, gasping, clammy and cold yet feverish as he palmed your sweat-ridden hair away. "N-No, please! D-Don't!"

"Gibby—" Anne was gasping, heaving between cries of pain. "Wait, please, Uncle Solomon—"

Solomon muttered something then. A hiss sounded – the relic, dissolving into nothing.

"No!" Sebastian's cry was like a fatal blow.

"You summoned the Inferi to the hamlet, Sebastian! You put innocent lives in danger!"

"It was working! If you hadn't— she might've— Anne could've—"

"Stop!" Anne begged. "Stop, both of you, please!"

Neither listened.

"You are foolish, boy! You know nothing!"

"You would let her die!"

"She cannot be healed. You. Must. Stop!"

Sebastian's throat screamed raw.

"You never cared! You never wanted us! I—I won't let her suffer like you have!"

And he let out a great, anguished cry.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Ominis swung around, but it was too late. The spell connected.

There was a slump as a body hit the ground.

"No—" Missy murmured.

The air seemed to thin as the horror of what had happened dawned on Ominis. Something splattered into the mud. Sebastian's wand.

"N-No, what... what have I—"

But nothing pierced so deeply as the howl of agony from Anne.

Ominis could no longer feel her heartbeat, but by her uneven footsteps, her heavy breathing, the curse was still in full effect. She expelled a long breath and screamed.

"Incendio!"

Inferi burnt beneath her wrath. Paper crackled – the spellbook, too.

"No!" Sebastian said. "Anne—"

"Depulso!"

He was flung to the ground. It was happening too fast – Ominis didn't know what to do.

A sob worked its way from her. She stumbled to Solomon's body as Sebastian braced himself on his elbows, grunting in pain.

"Wait, Anne, please—"

"I gave you a chance!" she screamed. "Again and again, I offered you grace! I forgave you and forgave you and forgave you, convinced you would prove you cared more about me than my condition! You would prove to me that before all else, I was your sister, your best friend, that you wouldn't choose the darkness over me! But you never listened. You never cared about what I wanted! And now?" She fell upon Solomon's body, wrung clean. "Now... you've made your choice."

Crack. She Disapparated, her uncle leaden in her arms.

"No! Anne!"

You mumbled again. Ominis turned back to you, tears sliding down his cheeks. He couldn't fathom what was happening. Anne, gone. Solomon – dead. You... suffering.

After he'd promised long ago to keep you safe from it.

"Sebastian, please... Anne..." Your gasp impaled him. "Ominis, I'm begging you..."

"She— she's been cursed." Missy trembled with despair. "Ominis, I—"

One truth lay louder than the rest. Sebastian's stupidity and reckless abandon may have landed you in this situation, but he'd warned Ominis not to bring you. Ominis had, in fact, argued in your favour, convinced you were necessary. Solomon was dead, the Inferi were running rampant... you were straddling between life and death...

All because he let Sebastian manipulate him. Again and again and again.

"Oh, please, please let her be all right."

Sebastian was on his feet, coming closer.

Ominis clenched his wand. He didn't even feel rage. This was something more acute.

"Stay away."

There was true pain and remorse rolling from Sebastian in waves. He stalled about five paces away.

"Ominis, please— I-I'm sorry—"

His wand shot out. The basic cast connected against Sebastian, causing him to stumble back in surprise.

"Stay. Away!" he bellowed, shaking. "I told you! I told you that there would be a cost for your obsession!"

"I'm sorry," Sebastian said – pleaded. "I-I didn't think she'd try to stop me—"

"For your sake! For Feldcroft's sake!"

"I know. Please, please... I... I need you."

"Need me? Look at what you've done! Gibby is cursed! Your uncle is dead!"

It seemed to be the word that unravelled him. "I— I made a mistake! I didn't mean to— for him to die—"

"You killed him!" He flung the accusation like barbs. "You murdered him!"

A step back. "I— I didn't— mean—" Another step. "He would've— he didn't—" He was gasping then, choking on his own tears. "Please—"

Ominis stood then, kept his wand trained on his friend.

Enemy, now.

"Come closer," he snarled. "This time I won't step aside."

Squelch. Another step back. Squelch. Another. Suddenly he was stumbling into a run, away from Ominis, away from you.

"No, wait—" Missy said. She didn't wait for Ominis' permission. She snatched up Sebastian's wand and sprinted after him, screaming his name.

Ominis sank back to the ground. His anger fled him at once, and when he dropped his wand, and yours, he took you in his arms and cradled you close.

A hug with no warmth.

He might as well have been the loneliest boy in the world.

[FIRST][PREV][NEXT to come soon <3]

Thank you to my tag list: @cordidy @witchyafterdark If you'd like to be added/ removed, please let me know 💚

[Divider credit]

[llannasvsp]

then there's my sister, who hates him and calls him selfish...

hmmm is there even a single ninjago fan that doesn't like lloyd? i actually dont think there is. congrats buddy . the people love u

imagine lloyd logging onto tumblr dot com after a long day of despairing about his miserable life and finding out people on the internet are showering him with love. i think he would be happy

[passionmaterial]

Its the one you've all probably been waiting For..

If Timmy Turner was in A New Wish!

More info Under the cut

Edit: forgot to link prev ones

First | Prev | Next | VER 2

Name:Timothy Tiberius Turner (or Timmy Turner)

Age:30

Important note: I do not account for the Secret Wish, that's why a lot of them are in their 20's and 30's

I've thought about his character a lot, so this is gonna be a long story here.

Short Summary:

Timmy remembers his Fairies, he married Tootie and had two kids, he lives in the apartment to the left of Cosmo and Wanda, and he's friends with the wells family, and does tell Hazel he remembers his Fairies. Also, he got his Overbite aligned as well, but he had to wear braces in high school.

Long Version:

Anyway, he still loses Cosmo, Wanda, and Poof, and naturally they think the memory wipe worked.

So obviously, once timmy turned 18, he could no longer remember Cosmo, Wanda, or Poof, or at least he was supposed to not remember. Something somewhere along the Memory Wipe Process failed, and he was able to retain his memories of them.

Look at V2 for how he remembers.

Now, to answer the question, everyone's probably been thinking since I said he didn't get with Trixie, Is "who did timmy end up with?." And the answer is Tootie. He ends up marrying tootie after high school, unfortunately making Vicky his Sister in Law. The good thing is that both of them are no-contact with her, making it not really a problem. He has two kids:Tammy and Tommy(his kids from channel chasers)

Anyway, after tootie gets a job in dimmadelphia, they have to move there, and just so happen to move in to the apartment on the left side of Cosmo and Wanda's, making it quite awkward when the two of them introduce themselves to the neighbors.

Aj offers timmy a job at the Galax Institute, which basically consists of just visiting and chatting with AJ Every day, which he doesn't mind. To him, the pay is a bonus.its a rather rewarding "job" for him. AJ just knew he was in need of a job but knew he didn't have the intellectual prowess for the actual work.

He becomes good friends with Marcus Wells, which is how he met Hazel. Him and Hazel have a good friendship. He likes that she is so optimistic about everything. Eventually, being grown, he does tell her that he was Cosmo and Wanda's last godkid, which doesn't surprise her, but does shock her that he remembered cosmo and wanda.

So naturally, after that, Timmy reunites with Comso and Wanda genuinely. Also, he totally cried at how his baby God brother is now an adult.

Edit:

Okay, I forgot to do this, but I was gonna talk about his Overbite/Buck teeth. Like the summary said, he does get them fixed, which I did look up, and you can get an overbite aligned, and also had he kept the overbite like shown in channel chasers, he probably had P A I N in his teeth, because according to the websites I looked at, Overbites can start to hurt if not fixed. (I myself have a slight overbite and I can actually kind of verify this, because sometimes my bottom teeth will just feel weird..like not in pain but not normal.)

So yeah, Timmy gets his Overbite aligned and doesn't have pains.

[luvistqrzzz]

and i've seen sparks fly everytime you smile...

sparks fly— where you think the sleepy boy walking you back home is cute...

jungwon x f.reader genre: fluff, high school au, classmates to ?? wc: 0.5k warnings: none part of what shade is our love series

your footsteps echoed in the empty hallway as you quickly walked towards your classroom. you must have forgotten your notebook somewhere there.

arriving at the door, you stopped in your tracks at the sight that greets you, your stomach doing a sudden flip.

yang jungwon.

he was sleeping, sprawled over the desk, the sunlight filtering in through the stained windows falling on his face. you stood there, unsure of whether to wake him up or not.

maybe you should considering how the gates would be locked in half an hour or so and you weren't cruel enough to let a poor boy be stuck in the school for so long.

you nervously walked up to his sleeping figure, oberseving the way his face looked so calm. it was not something you saw often. jungwon was always busy with studies, student council and what not.

he was so etheral that you had to stop yourself from being creepy and looking away. it wasn't like yang jungwon was your crush. he was a classmate, a very helpful one. always willing to lend a hand, or give a smile across the hallways.

but then again, you didn't miss the way your heart raced everytime he talked to you.

'uh jungwon…' you whispered, scared of how he would react to your sudden presence. 'school is finished, uhm… get up.'

hearing the sudden voice, the boy woke up with a start. 'who- what?!' he spoke in a sleepy voice before noticing you, face to face with him.

jungwon gulped at the sight of your face, his cheeks turning a shade darker, 'Oh, uh… y/n?!'

realizing the position you were in, you jumped back embarrassed, 'y-yeah… It's time to go.'

he looked around the empty classroom to avoid any further eye contact with his crush standing in front of him, before stuffing the books into his bag and getting up and following you out of the classroom.

jungwon took in a deep breath, stealing a quick glance at your direction and mustering up some courage, 'hey..... shouldwewalkbackhometogether?' it's now or never

you turned towards him in confusion, 'erm you need to calm down jungwon.'

'should we walk back home together?' he repeated, emphasising on each word, looking cute doing so. you couldn't hide the smile that spread across your face as you gave a quick nod.

jungwon couldn't believe it. he had always wanted to talk to you outside the formal 'hello' and 'how are you' and there you were, walking beside him with a small skip in your step. you chuckled at something he said only to find him looking at you softly.

your heart sped up, 'what?' the boy turned around, embaressed, 'n-nothing! oh look, i think we have arrived.'

you looked at your house at the other side of the street, 'i'm afraid so.' you pouted, not wanting to leave him. 'we should talk m-' '-you're cute, jungwon', you both said at the same moment. your ears turned pink as the realization hit you of what you had just said.

uh oh. 'okay bye see you at school!' you squeaked before sprinting in the opposite direction.

jungwon looked at your disappearing figure in a daze. did you really call him cute?

an: if this sounds cringe then its probably because im bad in writing fluff (wow whats happening ?!) but i had a classmate!jw brainrot lmao,,, also some parts are taken from a jeongin hc i wrote in my prev acc hehe ^^!! rbs and feedbacks are vv appreciated <3!

networks: @enhanet @en-web @k-films @hyfenet

permanent taglist open- send an ask- @rikizm @str0l0gy @yenqa @heetoldme @crxzs @s00buwu lmk if yall ever want to be removed its totally fine :D!!

[flowers-of-tenebrae]

Random DotF musings pt. 1

(spoilers for the whole book)

A Savior Lost - Ardyn:

So I uh totally forgot there was an "animated prologue" to Ep Ardyn. I did watch it...back in 2019. That means between Episode Ardyn, the animated prologue and DotF, his story has been told thrice in three different forms. Huh. (Well it's par the course for FFXV tbh)

It starts off rough tbh, but I like how the author reminds us of Noct's "shaggy hair and wayward nature" in the opening paragraph. Then you realise it's set in chapter 13 so any slight amusement - at Noct's expense - becomes 😭

I've had DA brainrot, so the justice (Somnus) vs. vengeance (Ardyn) themes stood out. In executing his ideals of justice and governance, Somnus corrupts Ardyn's purpose (his calling) and leads him on the path of vengeance... Culminating in Ardyn doing unto Noctis/Somnus what Somnus did him: 1) Somnus slaying Aera before Ardyn vs. Ardyn stabbing Luna in Altissia, and ofc 2) Ardyn vowing to destroy Somnus' entire legacy and lineage (through Noctis), much like how Ardyn's past as the "savior healer and future king" was demolished/buried and how his wondrous future (as king with Aera by his side) was cut short. This all seems v obvious, but it sounds cool to me when framed with DA's concepts of spirits vs demons - i.e. "if you see them as a demon, they'll become demons and reflect your expectations back at you".

Also obv Jesus/Judas parallels

The last line goes hard ✍️🔥🔥🔥

Now, the train has clearly steered off the rails of canon and into new territory

Not a fan of them casting Bahamut as the big bad antagonist (so cliché). Like the way his speech (as an Astral) is formatted though

It's easier for me to accept the Noctis/Somnus and Luna/Aera parallels in 2024 than it was back in 2019. But even more important than those are the Ardyn/Luna parallels, which we can see taking shape in this part.

Verdict: A slog to read, denser than expected, less exciting bc I've experienced Ep Ardyn - and the animated prologue. Certain parts felt more like reading a "dry impassive timeline" than a story. (I still question Aera's judgement in telling Somnus.) But this chapter does set the stage, so I can see why they still included it. And it's worth re-treading for that last scene alone.

The Beginning of the End - Aranea:

There's anti-food promotion for once, too much of it really. (Ew stale popcorn)

We learn a little bit of Niflheim's past state and its decline. Cool

Omg mentions of Aranea's parents!? Do we know more about her parents than Iggy's?? 😂

Wow they have an aerial safety net system in Gralea (for dragoons...?) Also, Gralea 🔄 Garlean empire - yeah the ff devs weren't subtle (it's a FFXIV ref)

Aranea's penchant for nicknames strikes again -> Tiny = Diamond Weapon

I liked seeing more of Aranea's dynamic with Biggs and Wedge and learning a bit about the latter two. Not as much Aranea + Sol in this ch as I'd expected, but that's okay for now.

While not quite as impressive as [ME2 spoiler] Miranda giving her resignation to the Illusive Man, Aranea going "I really can't stand you" to Ardyn, winking, then diving off the edge of Zegnautus Keep is still pretty awesome

The ffxv devs keep trying to make me care about Loqi but it's never worked

BONUS: FFVI ref spotted! (dancing mad) + minor Tenebrae lore drop (they were a tourist trap /jk)

Verdict: Some parts were repetitive ngl BUT this was more engaging than the prev ch bc 1) it's new content, 2) ARANEA!! - however the action scenes would've been more exciting to play through vs. reading. I'm going to sound like a broken record here; I feel robbed we didn't get to play as her (DRG ladies ftw) and see her wink on screen 🥲

[arthur-lesters-tits]

to the bazaar! Good luck Franny and I'll attack anyone who hurts her 🤺🤺

we'll see what we can trade those items for, thank you! I found some coins and a weird looking dagger..maybe we should keep that to ourselves. We need a new bag, this one won't be able to carry forever so we'll see how much we can trade down there.

though as we near the bazaar i can't help but feel a little worried, the closer we get the more people seem to stare. I'm worried they'll know we're not from here and refuse to trade but then again, there are all kinds of people so maybe I'm over thinking

day 41 in the dreamlands

as i mentioned, @arthur-lesters-ribcage , last night francessca and i set out to rob the house of some kid that bullied her.

when we got to the house (just an average bungalow) it was covered in a big tent, we crawled under it and lucky for us all the windows were open! we scared off the pest control with the duck tape, the way they screamed... it was like the sound fried all the nerves in their body.

once inside though, we found every room was drenched in fog, making it difficult to see or even think. as we walked around, there was no sign of the goat and their thousand young. we could hear them moving in every direction, upstairs, under the floorboards, in the walls. the rooms were dark, who knows if they were watching us from the corners?

i don't know if it was just the fog or the fumes playing tricks but the house's layout was... weird. winding hallways with no doors, stairs that led up to walls, and the whole structure seemed to form a spiral.

we picked up a few things as we went: a nintendo ds, condiments, a lamp, an Alexa, and a soda stream. that should be enough to get us supplies @arthur-lesters-tits ! if franny hadn't been there i wouldn't have found anything valuable, i'd have just raided the fridge and cupboards.

i'd hoped to find drugs in the bathroom, they can be worth a lot, and we did find some - in the bedroom, in an ornate wooden box with some funky symbols. might be some kind of spiritual thing? perhaps the secret to getting out of the dreamlands is to first be in a higher state of mind!

when we reached the centre of the spiral, we weren't dumb enough to go down the staircase to the basement - i've gone down enough holes in my lifetime, thank you arthur.

the basement doorknob turned. two guys came out. thought they might be pest control but seeing their empty bags, and black bandanas, they must've been thieves like us... they were very pissed off that we'd gotten the goods first so they chased us all through the house. they evaded the pocket sand attack by use of their second pair of eyelids...

franny and i got out another window, and it was there in the space between the tent and the house: the goat's thousand young, all of their eyes glowing red, swarming in on us. the kids weren't cute and fuzzy, but fleshy and veiny like newborn birds, and brought a stench of urine to the stuffy tent. their teeth were square and ground down on our skin as if it were grass. the two men chasing us had closed the window behind us so we couldn't get back in.

franny didn't make it out alive.

but!

after i got out of the tent, she appeared before me as a ghost. she's surprisingly happy about it, now she can haunt the kids that bullied her. she's going to see if the haunted house they dared her to go to is actually haunted. hope if there's other spirits there that they're nice to her.

so all in all, i'm calling this a major W. if i see those other thieves again though they're gonna get the Wrath of the Gut!

anyway, to the bazaar!

[soombee]

ଳ⋆｡˚𖦹 caught in the current of you — 01 , fish facts & a lil chemistry

warnings ! none

wordcount ; 573 / 0.5k words

‘thoughts’ -> “out loud”

7:30 am — chemistry

you didn’t expect to be particularly THIS nervous to present in today’s class, but then, your fine shyt, leehan, steps up to the front of the room and, all of a sudden, all your worries faded away just from the sight of his face

your heart beats raises, beating out of your chest as you remember last night’s venture through his twitter feed. he’s looking as fine as ever — in front of you, wearing a grey sweater with his tousled hair. he’s so effortlessly handsome.

‘thank god i decided to sit infront.’ you think to yourself, feeling blood flush your face

i mean, sure he’s in your chem lab, but you’re pretty sure he’s never really noticed you beyond the few shared glances when you’re stationed nearby each other and it’s killing you. but right now, standing at the front of the classroom, leehan looks so different — focused frown and tired eyes, presumably from the night before, trying to memorize the material he researched. he chose to present on the chemistry of ocean ecosystems and, judging by the look in his eyes, you can just tell that this isn’t just a topic to him

leehan starts to babble, giving the class a basic breakdown of marine life chemistry, but within seconds, he’s diving deeper, animatedly describing the ocean’s ecosystem as if it’s a living, breathing puzzle he’s trying to solve. his hands gestures excitedly when he talks about the bonds between organisms and how they rely on each other to thrive in the depths of the ocean. there’s something captivating in the way he speaks — like he’s not just presenting but inviting the whole class into his world. and slowly, you find yourself leaning forward, totally hooked, oh, on the presentation too i guess!

“and then there’s the corydoras catfish,” he says, smiling a little as he describes its contribution to the ocean system, “they’re very social fish so they’re barely alone!” the whole class might just hear a random fact, but you catch something else; a glimpse of leehan’s dedication to understanding even the smallest details about marine life, making your attraction towards him grow deeper

“i’m such a fool for u..” you confess under your breath, perchance wanting him to know how you felt about him

he dives into a ramble about coral reefs, the chemistry of their growth, and how they’re as fragile as they are beautiful. his face lights up with every word, not even glancing at his notes. it’s clear his passion isn’t just shallow—his dedication being your newfound obsession

by the time he wraps up, you’re practically just staring at him; not even in a “focused” way, you were ogling at him. this wasn’t just a class presentation; it was like getting to peek into a hidden part of his mind, one filled with excitement for something he loves. you can’t help but smile a little bigger, heart pounding in a way you didn’t see coming—even if he was fine shyt

for a brief second, leehan glances your way, as if noticing you’re there—you quickly drop your gaze, hoping he doesn’t catch the blush creeping onto your face

‘this is crazy,’ you think, ‘who tf falls for someone because of a lecture on fish!?’ but as soon as he sits down, you steal another glance, you’re definitely in too deep

“okay next up!” stupid chem professor distracting you from admiring fine shyt. 🫤

if u dont get the pineapple reference click here 🍍🍍🍍

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[quitealotofsodapop]

Wukong, getting tackled by his cubs: Oh thank goodness all of your are okay!

Tang: M-m-monkey King!? MK, you're mom is-

Wukong: Ah, speaking... MK?

MK, suddenly nervous: Yes?

Wukong: You... are on so much trouble. It's totally grounded for like... 100 years type stuff there.

MK: Aw man!

Wukong does not actually ground MK for 100 years, but he is not allowed to go to the city for the next 2 weeks unless it's to work and back. Mei offers to take over "Monkey Kid Duty" for the duration, and Wukong never outright banned MK from having his friends over, quite the opposite, in fact! He's working with Pigsy to make sure it doesn't conflict with his schedule when setting up training sessions

Prev post.

+a similar short anon;

Yeah MK is so grounded for lying to his mom about his true reason for going to the mainland + becoming a sueprhero in the process.

I love Wukong's gut reaction is "100 years grounded!" because its such a him thing to do.

Wukong: "I'm serious MK! I've been grounded for 500 years before! Don't think you can't be too!" MK: "Isn't that how you ended up with me??" Wukong: "Ugh true. Two weeks of no video games or arcade then." MK: "Aww man!"

I love the thought of Mei being on board to "chaperone" MK for the two weeks he's grounded so he doesn't wander off into an arcade or end up in a kaiju battle. Mei constantly updates Wukong via their phones about what MK is doing/when he signs off work. She acts like it's a super-secret spy mission.

Pigsy is little shaken by the news that his fave employee is a monkey demigod, but then again he was quick to encourage/guide MK when he became a hero so this is only an extra dose of weirdness for him. He also argues for MK's merit as an employee, lazy or not, he's the best one Pigsy's ever had. Wukong is actually delighted to learn that MK was legitimately working during his time in the city, and agrees that he can continue working at the restaurant as long as it doesn't get in the way of training or world-ending catatrophes.

Ironically, this means that the event of "Sweet N Sour Pork" occurs mid-grounding, and Wukong decides to legitimately show up to the Food Wars (despite his extreme stage fright) to make sure MK is ok. Also due to the Gold and Silver Twins basically being MK's cousins (the Vixen had long ago considered Macaque one of her cubs), their motivations for the Food Wars is a lot different. They want MK to stop focusing on Pigsy's so that he can continue searching for Macaque and not have to worry about "mortal stuff". It ofc fails but the sentiment is noted.

Wukong is also opened the island to MK's friends and work mates so he can get to know them finally. He's been keeping a bit of a distance because of their connection to the PIlgrims, but now that his cub is working for and trusts them so much well...

The older twins, Rumble and Savage, def follow MK to the city a few times mostly to bother him at work and to observe whats so cool about the mortal city. They quickly discover cheese teas, arcades, McDonalds playplaces, and lazer tag, so they fall in love with city life as well. <3

[realityrewind]

LET'S GO BUTCH4BUTCH NATION !!!!

have u all seen that "butch bait" shirts femmes wear? I need a butch to wear that. please.