#......omni check.

[hypnofantasma-asks-and-doodles]

Viability check for some omni

Couple of notes:

In order they are!!

Amaterasu

Thanatos

Pan

Momus

Most of their exaggeration is like?? Style choice to make them distinct but i wanna know if tjey b breaking too many rules

Also sorry the colors looked less saturated on my ipad lol (these are all awful sketches not very high effort)

Extra: pan had their wings torn off, momus is missing his 4 arms because... metroasma ate them....

Also this was sent before the omni doc was released just in case you answer it after its done lol

I LOVE THESE OMNI SO MUCH

i think they're all pretty rad!! they follow the species rules perfectly!! 🩵🧡🩵🧡

[havendance]

The reason that they invented comics omnibuses is so that you have convenient weights on hand whenever you need to press something.

[milk-ducts]

I'm so glad to have encountered a fellow Cecil stan. I freaking love coming up with headcanons for Cecil, platonic or romantic, because he's such an interesting character. For real though feel free to dump any Cecil headcanons (platonic or romantic) on me anytime.

AWAAAA!! YES HAII OTHER CECIL AFICIONADO !!! im so glad theres more of us sprouting out here. my wife is so underappreciated, you have no idea how much he means to me. i'd love to req n swap headcanons anytime !! I have so many thoughts on that morally ambiguous gilf.

[messy, disorganized surface level autism rambling ahead. this will be just random scenes and characteristics i like of him]

BUT YES .. cecil's character is just so interesting to analyze. he does unethical, necessary things. But he doesn't subscribe to idealistic notions of "the greater good" or justifying his actions to make himself sleep better at night. He knows the harsh reality that someone has to make the difficult decisions, no matter how unethical. The psychological toll it takes to calculate how many civilian lives can be spared, and how many are inevitably lost in order to achieve the optimal outcome. He doesn't celebrate after victories like the other heroes do. After the dust settles, his mind is already racing - calculating, strategizing how to prevent future catastrophes. How to minimize casualties next time.

his methods are...questionable,, as ive said,, but there's a hint of nobility to it that just makes you respect him, A SHADY GOVERNMENT CHAR that does the dirty work and takes in all the heat for it so no one else has to? SIGN ME TF UP! i love exploring his character and all the little glimpses of humanity we get to see from him,, especially with debbie, SO SOFT FOR HER, there's so much depth there. that old fuck would MOVE mountains for her if he could,, TRUST. EVEN though he doesnt deserve her .. <<

LETS CONTINUE TO CIRCLE BACK TO S1 with his confrontation w Nolan in the desert, the way he entrusted his survival to the skills of his team operating that teleporter watch (I'm aware he can control it himself, I think this was just my interpretation of it since the employees seemed directly involved here). The margin for error was nonexistent. One miscalculation, one millisecond too slow, and Cecil would have been reduced to a red smear across miles of sand. MY WIFE HAS BALLS ON HIM. (also love walton goggins breathy lil giggles here .. hwaghffhh)

All this, All the whilst Nolan could have ended him with a casual backhand, as easily as swatting a fly. And for what? For humanity's (mostly his) right to know the truth. For Debbie's right to understand what she had truly married because Cecil respects her that fucking much for her to have a part in all of this, and what fate may lay in store for her son.

AND what I particularly liked about that scene is that unlike most SHADY GOV CHARS ™.. Cecil isn't afraid to regularly place himself in life-threatening situations, and for that im just.. FKING obsessed. finally. a hyper competent gov char that gets shit done and occasionally by his own hands instead of always puppeteering in the shadows. Love u .. love u honey snooch, please stop putting yourself in danger for your crazy alien side-hoes .

but ahem ... back to s2.. and some flaws of his that i'm not afraid to point out. the way he's been treating mark is killing me. manipulating my son by comparing him to his dad then keeping him on lock by saying he's not like him??? The breadcrumming definitely didn't work out at all, cuz Mark is too damn stubborn to continue to be swindled by fear tactics he does not give a shit for anymore (homegirl DEBBIE taught him better) hes not gonna listen to a cranky skullet-having side bitch of nolans who clearly has been tryna manipulate him since s1. i HATED how he went "ur broke tyrannical bitch father felt the same way" in the last minute when mark tried to leave earth and yet i still lobve ceci cause ough,,.. my bastard wife knew something was probably up.

Him wanting to keep a short leash on MARKY could be summed up after all that has happened in s1. i'm not going to justify his scummy manipulations or paranoia,, especially after all the shit mark has done and endured to prove himself over and over again that he's not like his father BUT its somewhat understandable for cecil 2 be wary if you look from it in his perspective.

moving on from that, lets dive back into ep 2 ..

Debbie was semi-right in her deduction in s2 ep2, that this is what it's really all about for Cecil - being in control. Not of any situation, but of Mark. To ensure history does not repeat itself in the form of Mark becoming another Nolan. imo He likely doesn’t actually view Mark as his father, Not saying the possibility of it being a part of Cecil's subconsciousness is out of the equation but the way I see it? He was just exploiting that one weakness, that one insecurity Mark has - the fear of becoming like Nolan. And it’s a fear Cecil seemed to prey upon to keep Mark under his thumb and in the fucking GAME.

awaaaa :3 !!!! psychologically damaging teens by comparing them to their abhorrently shitty fathers !! FUCK YOJ STEDMAN (love you snookums..)

,,,,I'd also like to think in my warped deluded perception (aka hcs) that he sees Debbie in Mark, so he can't help but care for the kid too. IVE ALWAYS seen a lot of comparisons between Mark and his dad, plus the whole motif of this new season hasn't helped it allay. But Debbie and Mark share so many similar characteristics as well and i wish that was talked a bit more often &lt; 3 (I will go in depth about it at a later post.)

n umm like ...,,, bck to cici in gen. I guess the safety of earth is one of Cecil's redeeming qualities along with his compassion for side characters like Debbie. His pragmatism and utilitarianism define him. He lacks normal morals but has his own code that cultivates to his character. this ramble could not do justice to him ughfglg..,, what a compelling jezebel.. how can u captivate me so !!

My inbox is always open to discuss this multi-faceted rat man. here's to more cecil content in s2..,... hopefully with more of his dynamic with Debbie because I LIVE for that shit. though its unlikely their interactions could range to anything positive now since they may be hinting to cecil becoming an antagonist and/or taking extreme measures w/ mark. soo.. i dont think debbie's scolding was enough for that slut 2 take in ..

in the mean time i'll be catching up on the comics/re-reading them, look up more of his backstory and hopefully create 10 novels worth of google docs of analysis' of his character < 3 cuz .. he means .. that much 2 me.. and i want to prod at every crevice n brain matter he has inside that megamind head of his .

((hwaghhhhhh << hoping that one day the discord moots ive been keeping in my basement and most invincible fans fall victim to cecil stedman propoganda.. no one should be immune to my girlboss and his awful skullet.))

[crismakesstuff]

I keep forgetting to post ab this precious little nolan plush I commissioned from @artichokebean !!!

he is a very sweet boy who has committed no crimes, featuring my kitty pumpkin in the back

more photos of the guy

I stole the coat off of my ford pines plush

[tulipsnflowers]

Be me, just looking through some micromon play throughs quickly to see if the CHAOS siblings talk at all so I can act appropriately and approach them as I should

Nd then, I, on a random video, stumble across a dude with like, ya know which shade of blue hair.

According to a friend who has played Micromon this is just, a random overseer(or the micromon equivalent), but like:

Confusion??

Do you guys see it? I mean, he says like surfer slang and things like 'yo' but like-

THE NECKLACE?? With 6 golden things and a blue shell?? Kjwkiwjddje

What were the (in universe) micromon scientists on??

And he also has like, googles like Sols does. Im-

Apparently this is just some dude but I *guess* I know where Merida got her surfing from??

[boywithbear]

back with another coining!!! I recently discovered this term (and relate heavily to it omg) and there wasnt a flag for it so; Mirous Attraction Flag!!! I based a lot of themes from the aesthetic and sexual attraction flags done by FANDOM user Zer0Rebel4 (mainly the layout and symbol). I used red as one of the colors as it's the color that often represents sexual attraction and mirous attraction can be seen very similarly to sexual attraction and may be confused for it. I chose pink as the other main color tones as it's the color that's often associated with aesthetic attraction and mirous attraction is often seen similarly to a form of aesthetic attraction. Similar to Zer0Rebel4's aesthetic attraction flag meanings, white is for mirous attraction and black is for the spectrum of mirous attraction. The symbol in the middle is pulled from the symbols of Zer0Rebel's aesthetic attraction flag and sexual attraction flag— a combination of a heart and a flower, making it a sort of merge between the two as it can seem to be so similar to them both. It is brown as I think that would be a good representative color of mirous attraction; pulled from the original miransexual flag as miransexual is a form of mirous attraction/similar and the identity is part of why the term mirous attraction was coined, and it meshes well with the pink and red tones that the flag is made up of.

[Edit May 2024; I made a better looking flower symbol for the flag!!]

As a bonus I've also made mirous oriented attraction flags!! I made these based on blending their flags with the Mirous Attraction flag I made! (since there's lots of flags, descriptions will be in the alt text)

Lesbian-mirous:

Gay-mirous:

Bi-Mirous:

Pan-Mirous:

Edit: made more!

Omni-Mirous:

Ply/Poli-Mirous:

Sapphic-Mirous:

Achillean-Mirous:

[volivolition]

after this [gestures at the deadline task] Thing is done i have to draw a cute pride icon with voli and chemi... its essential to my wellbeing as a skills fan hkjhg

[intomybubble]

TIL italy started releasing a new omnibus version of Pandora hearts and they look really nice

It looks similar to the english omnibus release that comes in the boxset and I also saw (on r/mangacollectors) that there’s also a new german edition too. Of the 3 versions, i prefer this most.

I like the cover of this one. I was never a huge fan of the cutout of the english version, and the german version uses artwork that wasn’t in the first volume??

Like the cover is the artwork used for the 8.5 official guide that was released in Japan, and the inside cover (?) uses artwork of lacie and jack that was used for the special edition of vol 22. I do like the other spine (the group image is on the pages side where the dust cover covers all the pages)

Edit: Here’s the english boxset edition, and the cover for vol 2 of the italy print

[kleinewahines]

@serabellyms | Ash + Kaidan Sexual Tension Prompts [Always Accepting] + [WET]

If you don't like the weather wait a few minutes still applied in some areas on Earth. What had been a shockingly warm, calm day some miles north of the English Bay had suddenly turned into a downpour that quickly soaked everyone and everything that happened to be out of doors and without an umbrella.

Which included Kaidan (who didn't actually live in this part of the world when he wasn't in space, it was his parents' place he was staying in for a short time after defeating Saren). Miserably wet, looking something like a drowned rat, Kaidan plodded through the streets to take him back home and out of the rain (why run? He was already soaked through to his regulation underwear).

He paused as he caught sight of a figure coming the other direction and he laughed softly. His long legs carried him the remaining distance until he got to the point where he was essentially standing right outside his parents' place. He almost felt a little better he wasn't the only one who had gotten caught out without a raincoat or umbrella. The last time he had been this wet was on Virmire, trying to get that damn bomb in place.

"Ash," he said with a short chuckle, water dripping from the facial hair he had grown sometime after the final battle of the Citadel as he spoke. "If you had told me you were coming I would've met you at the shuttle." Even soaked through, Ash still seemed to hold onto the dignity that Kaidan had lost some blocks away.

In theory he could've used his biotics to shield himself from the rain this whole time but that was more effort than he wanted to expend. But he did raise one hand and let a small barrier form above their heads while gesturing with the other hand towards the modest house. It had taken him a while to convince his parents that they should go on the trip they had been saving up for. He wouldn't be going anywhere for a while, the logic being he had earned a furlough helping Commander Shepard take down Saren and ostensibly stop the Reaper threat (at least for the time being). Though it worried him a little Ash might be there to deliver some kind of new assignment news.

[omgfangirlland]

I'm going to need all of you to hear me out on what I'm about to spew, but I have yandere!batfam brain rot, and I just came across Yan!girldad!nolan grayson.

HEAR ME OUT!

Putting a page break here cuz idk how long this will be-

So- the usual neglected batsis that as a youngster craved the attention of her fam, but after being brushed away, after being ignored, after being straight up forgotten about, says fuck it, y'all aren't worth my love, I'll use the Wayne money to do as I please.

So she does. She uses the monthly allowance that is on auto pay straight to her card to do arts, to paint her heart away, to draw and play video games, to fund and pay off anything from homeless shelters to medical bills, trying to make a dent into the Wayne fortune both in selfish and non-selfish ways. She's basically a petty tween.

But then she wakes up with powers. She thinks she's a meta- batman doesn't like metas, that's what she thinks, she doesn't know Bruce doesn't want metas in Gotham due to Gotham being ground zero for meta trafficking. Boom, panic.

I think she has powers like flying, super strength, and like immediate healing if not "iron skin" like Superman. So she wakes because she hits the ceiling due to flying while asleep. She panics, falls, maybe breaks something, nobody comes to check on her-

Now, she always has toyed with the idea of leaving, but this? THIS? Breaking point, she packs necessities and the Wayne card and says bye-bye Gotham, good morning... Chicago? NYC? Idk, whichever place Omni man lives in ig.

The batfam, of course, doesn't notice. In this universe, I think even Alfred won't have been paying that much attention to batsis, man's too busy. So what if one day he does his rounds, cleaning, opens a door he hasn't been in a while.

The room is dusty. Dusty beyond hell, and one singular photo of batsis at like a kindergarten graduation makes him drop everything, including his heart. Old man goes feral, absolutely crazy, because where the fuck is this kid, this little baby, that he went and picked up because Bruce couldn't be bothered.

The batfam goes crazy too. In the mean time-

Batsis is, surprisingly, living her best life. Initially, she planned on getting an under the table job- clean a bar, babysit, be the errand girl of some shady drag dealer, etc. But Nolan sees her while she tries to get her powers under control, shakily flying, accidentally blowing to pieces a tree as she leans against it.

Omni-man as he lurks in the shadows: Debbie would love a daughter. I would love a daughter.

Batsis would call it kidnapping, Nolan calls it adopting without extra steps. Debbie takes one look at this shaken kid and immediately goes mama mode while reprimanding Nolan about taking a kid off the streets and not warning her so she could prepare better.

Mark? It takes about 2 hours before he realizes that they can be training buddies and that they have similar taste in some things. That's his baby sister. No arguments, just baby sis. Batsis? Much like a hungry, cold cat, she accepts her fate. It does feel nice to finally have some attention on her.

So she trains with Nolan and Mark, gets great, becomes a reluctant superhero, deliberately ignores Nolan's rants about her becoming such a great warrior, his little girl on the way of becoming the greatest conquror. Gothamite batsis just shrugs it off as just a Thursday.

Back with the batfam, pure chaos. Everyone is in shambles. How could they forget about a whole kid? Their siblings, Bruce's youngest daughter. Guilt is slowly turning into madness, and madness is slowly turning into a need to prove they can be better, that they weren't deliberately overlooking an innocent child because of personal pettiness, they were just distracted but now they'll right their wrongs.

Bonus p1:

Superman finally meeting batsis: What do you mean you're Bruce's kid? 😃 What do you mean you're a meta and instead of coming to uncle Clark you go and get adopted by murderous Omni-man? 🙂 What do you mean you kinda approve of him killing his enemies? 🫠

Batsis just wants Joker to die.

Bonus pt2:

Dick: What do you mean she's calling that other Grayson boy big brother? 😀

Damien: What do you mean I have another sibling? What do you mean she's calling that purple alien bastard her little brother?! I blame you, father.

Bonus pt3:

John Constantine: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU GAVE ONE OF BATMAN'S KIDS IMMORTALITY AND MAGICAL POWERS?

The deity/entity batsis has been depicting in her paintings for years: *shrugs* I was bored, my little priestess was sad, she's not anymore 🤷

That's the plot twist, batsis is actually magical, but her powers work the way they do because that's the only way she knows how to fight with them. Magic isn't on her thought as a possibility, even if she was into the occult.

Cue John drinking for 3 days straight before having the courage(or will) to go to the Bat.

[writers-potion]

Latin Phrases of love

Latin: Words/Phrases of Love ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Thank you all for the attention that my Latin words/phrases lists are getting! (interesting latin phrases, soft-souning latin phrases)

Here are some Latin phrases regarding love:

aeger amore: love sick

aegra amans: [lover's disease] love sick

amo: I love

amor sui: self-love

amor habendi: love of possessing

animo fractus: heartbroken

caritas: love or charity

cupido: longing or desire

cum corde: with the heart

digitulus: [little finger] the touch of a finger

digitus auricularis: the ring finger

imo pectore: from the bottom of the heart

in saecula saeculorum: [for ages of ages] forever and ever

philtrum: a love potion

potentia amoris: the power of love

vinculum matrimonii: th bond of marriage

vis amoris: the force of love

amo et pax: love and peace

amo ut ivenio: love as I find

amor et honor: love and honor

amor gignit amorem: ove begins as love

amor amnibus idem: love is the ame in all (Virgil)

amor tussisque non celantur: love and a cough are not concealed (Ovid)

amor vincit omnia: love conquers all things

amore sitis uniti: be united in love

cedamus amori: let us yield to love

cor ad cor loquitor: heart speaks to heart

cor et manus: heart and hand

cras amet qui numquam amavit: let those love now, who never loved before (Catullus)

dulce periculum: sweet danger

fide et amore: by faith and love

fortis est ut mors dilectio: love is strong as death (Song of Solomon 8:6)

in omnibus caritas: in all things love

meminerunt omnia amantes: lovers remember everything (Ovid)

nihil amori injuriam est: there is no wrong that love will not forgive

nihil amanti durum: nothing is hard for one who loves

nihil esta more veritatis celsus: nothing is loftier than the lover of truth (Propertius)

non mihi, non tibi, sed nobis: not for you, not for me, but for us

redintegratio amoris: the renewal of love

serva jugum: [preserve the yoke] preserve the bond of love

si vis amari ama: if you ant to be loved, then love (Seneca)

ut ameris, amabilis esto: to receive love, be lovable (Ovid)

...and because ruined love is also love:

a vinculo matrimonii: [from the bonds of marriage] an absolute divorce

aurear compedes: golden shackles

corpus inane: body without a soul

succubus: a female spirit or demon believed to prey sexually on young men while they sleep

zelotypus: jealousy

expertus dico, nemo est in amore fidelis: I say as an expert, no one is faithful in love (Propertius - I wonder what this man had to go through to say this?)

neno in amore videt: no one in love sees (Propertius - seriously, what happened, Propertius?)

omnis amans amens: every lover is demented

res est solliciti plena timoris amor: love is full of axious fears (Ovid)

As always, happy writing.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

💎If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! Also, join my Tumblr writing community for some more fun.

💎Before you ask, check out my masterpost part 1 and part 2 

Reference: Latin for the Illiterati: a modern guide to an ancient language by Jon R. Stone, second edition 2009.

[solelifauna]

Definitely NOT Invincible (Yandere Invincible & Reader)

Pt.5

Guys, I'm cooked. Anyways, thank you for all the kind words!!! Also Y/n's cooked too...anyways! Enjoy!

ALSO!! EVERYONE THANK @oof-spoof!! THIS SERIES IS NOW BASICALLY DEDICATED TO THEM!!! Thank you @oof-spoof for supporting me!

The group fell into a heavy silence, the weight of your words sinking in as if the world itself had pressed down on your shoulders. It wasn’t just about stopping Omni-Man and Invincible or sending that crucial tip to the Guardians of the Globe—it was about surviving long enough to make any of it matter.

The irrefutable fact lingered in the back of everyone’s mind, unspoken but looming: you might be killed again.

Your stomach churned at the thought, the memory of your father’s hand crushing your skull replaying in vivid, excruciating detail. The sound, the pressure, the blinding pain—it haunted you in ways you couldn’t even articulate. And if not that, then what? Would it be a more horrific death this time? Burned alive? Torn apart?

You looked around the table, the same realization written on the faces of your friends. Hallie was biting her lip, staring blankly at the table as her fingers drummed nervously. Connor’s jaw was clenched, his fists curled tightly on his lap. Weston was silent, his expression unreadable, but his tired eyes betrayed him.

Finally, Weston broke the silence. “I’ll figure out how to send the tip,” he said, his voice quiet but resolute. His gaze shifted between each of you before landing back on his hands. “You guys focus on keeping our… other obligation in check.”

Shit. You’d completely forgotten about the Demogorgons. Those damn things hadn’t been on your radar for the past few days, but they were still out there, roaming the town, lurking in shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Judging by the groans and sighs from Connor and Hallie, they’d forgotten too.

“Everyone still has their things, right?” you asked, already mentally cataloging what you had at home.

Hallie sat up straighter, brushing her hair out of her face. “Got my pump action and bolt action in my trunk and in my closet,” she said, her voice steadier than her posture.

Connor leaned back, rubbing his temples. “Got ammo and a G-48, Haymitch's axe, and the machete,” he listed off, his tone bordering on exhaustion.

“I still have the smoke bombs and my dad’s rifle he thinks he sold,” Weston added, his voice low but firm.

You nodded, storing the information away. “Good. We’ll need all that and more.”

The silence that followed was thick with understanding. You’d fought these monsters before. You’d survived the impossible. But this time, it wasn’t just about survival. It was about holding the line, balancing the dual threats of the Demogorgons and the looming Viltrumite takeover.

"I say we prepare for the worst," you finally say, your voice cutting through the silence. "Stock up on ammo when you can, supplies, canned food, and whatever else we’ll need. We have to be ready in case everything goes to shit again, in case… in case what we do doesn’t work—"

“Don’t.” Connor’s voice cuts you off, sharp and sudden. “Don’t say that, (Y/n).”

You flinch at the rawness in his voice, the sheer force of his words.

“Connor—” you start, but he barrels forward, his frustration spilling over like a dam breaking.

“It has to work!” he says, his voice trembling. “It has to, or else—” He looks away, jaw tight, his hands clenching into fists. “Or else that means we fought for nothing. That means all those people who died—who are going to die—died for nothing. That means we came back for nothing.”

His words hang in the air, raw and painful. You feel them hit you like a punch to the gut.

Your lips press together tightly as you try to find something—anything—to say. Connor was always the "strong" one of the group, the silent type, the brash one who rarely let anyone see how deeply he felt things. He was the backbone, the shoulder everyone else could lean on when things got tough. Seeing him like this, unraveling, hurts more than you want to admit.

“I’m—I’m sorry, Connor,” you finally manage, your voice barely above a whisper.

“No, I’m sorry,” he mutters, his eyes watery as he scrubs at his face with the back of his hand. His voice cracks slightly as he continues, “You—you’re just doing what you always do, trying to keep us alive. I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t apologize, Con,” you say quickly, leaning forward slightly, trying to catch his gaze. “I—I get it. Really, I do.”

The tension around the table is palpable. Hallie and Weston exchange uneasy glances, their worry for Connor evident in the grim lines of their faces.

“Connor,” Hallie starts gently, her voice low and careful, “nobody’s saying what happened before will happen again, but—”

“I know,” he cuts her off, his voice quieter now, almost resigned. He lets out a shaky breath and sinks back in his seat, rubbing a hand over his face. “I know. But we have to consider the high chance it will.”

The stakes couldn’t be higher, and the thought of failing—of going through all of it again—was unbearable.

But you didn’t have a choice.

You glanced at each of them in turn, taking in their tired faces, the fear lingering in their eyes. They were your family, your only anchor in a world that felt increasingly impossible to navigate.

“We’ll make it work,” you say softly, your voice steady despite the storm inside you. “I don’t know how yet, but we will.”

You don’t know if they believe you, and honestly, you’re not even sure if you believe yourself. 

Weston’s hand comes to rest on Connor’s shoulder, rubbing little circles in that gentle, soothing way he always did to calm the group down. It was such a Weston thing to do—he had always been physical with his care and affection, expressing his love in small touches and gestures that reminded you all you weren’t alone. You see Connor’s shoulders relax just slightly under Weston’s touch, though the tension doesn’t completely leave him.

You shift closer, moving to sit beside Connor, offering your silent presence as support. Across the table, Hallie slides her water bottle toward him, her brow furrowed in worry. “Here,” she says softly. Her voice doesn’t waver, but her eyes betray the depth of her concern. Connor takes the bottle with a small, muttered “thanks,” and sips from it, his gaze distant.

The weight of the moment settles over all of you, thick and suffocating. No one says anything for a while, and for a brief moment, the only sound is the distant hum of chatter from other tables in the courtyard.

Then the lunch bell rings, cutting through the stillness like a knife, signaling it’s time to go back to class. The sound sends a jolt through you, and you see the same dread reflected in everyone’s faces. None of you want to go. Yet, there was nothing you could do.

You all stand reluctantly, gathering your things in silence. Before you split up, you squeeze Connor’s shoulder gently, hoping it conveys what you can’t find the words to say. He offers a faint smile.

You walk into the crowded hallway, your mind scrambling as you try to recall your next class. What was it? You swear you knew just minutes ago, but now the information is gone, like a wisp of smoke slipping through your fingers.

You glance around desperately, hoping to recognize a familiar face, someone who might share the class with you. But the sea of students around you is a blur of faces you barely recognize. Who the hell are these people? You don’t remember their names, their voices, their stories. They’re strangers, even though you know you should know them.

Panic creeps up your spine as you weave through the hall, your breathing growing shallow. You’re losing it. You’re losing yourself, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. The realization claws at you, sharp and unrelenting.

You hate this. You hate what this world, what this second chance, has reduced you to. What it’s reduced all of you to.

Your hands tremble as you tighten your grip on your bag, willing the shaking to stop, but it doesn’t. You pass classrooms, peeking inside, hoping something will click—a desk, a teacher, a face. But nothing does.

The hallways start growing emptier as students file into their classrooms, the bustling energy fading into a deafening quiet. You glance around, the panic tightening in your chest. Where the hell were you supposed to go?

Your mind scrambles, trying to latch onto something—anything—that will tell you your next class. The answer eludes you, slipping through your fingers like sand. You fumble with your phone, attempting to log into your student portal. At least that would show your schedule, right?

Except the password isn’t auto-saved. Of course, it isn’t.

You sit there staring at the login screen, willing your brain to remember your credentials, but nothing comes. It’s just another blank void. Great. Now you can’t even see your schedule, let alone your grades. Not that grades should be at the top of your concerns right now, but still, the thought gnaws at the back of your mind. You’re so screwed.

You lean against a row of lockers, the cold metal biting into your back as you let out a frustrated sigh. What the hell do I do now? Asking the front desk for help is out of the question. It’s the middle of the school year, and no one forgets their schedule this far in. It would raise questions. And why couldn’t you just look it up yourself? The idea of facing that judgment makes you cringe.

No, you can’t do that.

Instead, you resign yourself to staying in a random, empty hallway, slumping down against the wall. The quiet envelops you, a brief respite from the overwhelming noise in your head. You close your eyes for a moment, letting the silence settle around you. God, you didn’t realize how much your eyes were burning, how much your body ached.

The idea of just staying here, hidden and still, is so tempting. Maybe you could just chill here for a while. Yeah, that sounded nice. Just a little break.

You don’t realize how much time passes as you sit there, your mind drifting between the chaos of your thoughts and the exhaustion weighing you down. For a brief moment, you feel the smallest sliver of peace.

Until a voice shatters it.

“Playing hooky, (Y/n)?”

Your stomach drops. No. Not him. Not now.

Mark’s voice carries that unmistakable mix of smugness and sharpness, the tone that always made you want to squirm. “Tch, Mom and Dad are not going to be happy. Especially after the last meeting your counselor had about your little habit of skipping classes.”

You open your eyes, and there he is, standing over you with a smirk that makes you want to curl in on yourself. His eyes bore into yours, sharp and calculating, as if he’s dissecting you piece by piece.

“W-what? When did—oh shit,” you stammer, the memory hitting you like a brick. He’s talking about the meeting. You’d skipped a bunch of classes last semester to deal with the Demogorgons. Sure, you kept your grades up, but that didn’t stop the school from calling your mom. And to say she was upset was an understatement.

Mark’s smirk widens as he watches the realization dawn on your face. “Ah, there it is,” he says mockingly, leaning against the wall. “I’m sure Mom will love hearing about this. You know how she feels about second chances.”

You glare at him, the panic in your chest now mixed with frustration. “Mark, I—look, just don’t. Please.”

His expression softens, but only slightly. There’s still that edge to his voice, that unnerving mix of concern and menace. “Don’t what? Tell her? You’re not making this easy, you know. Skipping class, hiding out like this… It’s like you want her to freak out.”

“I just—” You falter, your words failing you. The exhaustion, the stress, the sheer overwhelming nature of everything—it’s all too much. You can’t think of a good excuse, and Mark’s gaze feels like it’s cutting through every lie you might try to tell.

He crouches down, leveling his eyes with yours. “What’s going on with you, (Y/n)?” he asks, his voice softer now but no less piercing. “You’ve been off. I know you’re not telling me everything.”

You look away, unable to meet his gaze.

Mark’s words linger in the air like a trap, waiting for you to fall in. “Are you depressed or something? Maybe it’s a boy? I don’t know, (Y/n), but something’s off. I know it is,” he says, his tone dripping with faux concern. “Just tell me. Tell your big brother, and I can make it go away.”

The irony of it all hits you like a freight train, and you can’t help it—you huff, then giggle, and then it all spirals out of control. A laugh bubbles out of you, wild and uncontainable, quickly escalating into full-blown hysterics. You’re wheezing now, clutching your sides, and you know you must look insane. Maybe you are. How could you not be?

It’s funny, really. The idea that he, Mark, could fix your problems. That he could “make it go away.” It’s laughable because a massive chunk of your problems is sitting right in front of you, watching you unravel with that same calculating smirk. How utterly absurd.

Your laughter devolves into choked breaths as your chest tightens painfully. The tears come next, hot and relentless, spilling down your cheeks. You’re sobbing now, loud and ugly, your body shaking uncontrollably.

Mark’s expression shifts, surprise flickering in his eyes. Then something darker takes hold—something intrigued, almost amused. He wasn’t expecting this, but oh, was he glad. He leans in closer, his lips curling into a softer smile. There was something seriously wrong with you. He knew it now. And that knowledge only made him more eager to figure out what had happened to his weak, adorable little sister.

“Oh, (Y/n),” he coos, his voice deceptively sweet as he cups your cheek with his large, warm hand. His thumb brushes against your tear-streaked skin, wiping away the evidence of your breakdown. His touch is firm but gentle, an unnerving mix of comfort and control.

You try to flinch away, your instincts screaming at you to get out of his grasp, but your body betrays you. Exhausted and overwhelmed, you slump into his hand, your head tilting slightly as if seeking solace. You hate it. You hate yourself for it. But you’re only human, and his warmth feels like the only anchor keeping you from completely spiraling.

“St-stop this,” you choke out between sobs, your voice barely audible. “Puh-please.”

Mark tilts his head, his expression almost mockingly innocent. “Stop what, (Y/n)?” he asks softly, his voice laced with feigned confusion.

“This,” you gasp, your voice trembling. “This—what you—you’re doing. Please, it—it isn’t fair.”

His hand doesn’t move from your cheek, and his thumb continues its slow, deliberate motion, wiping away fresh tears as they fall. His smile softens further, but his eyes remain sharp, predatory.

“Fair?” he echoes, as if tasting the word. “Oh, (Y/n). Life isn’t fair. You know that.” His voice drops lower, almost a whisper. “But you don’t have to worry about that. You don’t have to worry about anything. That’s what I’m here for.”

You shake your head weakly, your sobs growing quieter but no less intense. “You—”

He interrupts you gently, his voice soothing but utterly condescending. “Shh. Just let me take care of you.”

The words send a chill down your spine, the weight of his intent pressing down on you. You know there’s no escaping him now, not when he’s latched onto you like this. Not when he’s decided you’re his problem to solve, his little sister to protect—even if it means breaking you further in the process.

Mark’s gaze lingers on your trembling form, his hand still cradling your cheek. He studies you with a mix of curiosity and calculation, the wheels turning in his mind as he contemplates your place in all of this. Maybe he could make something useful out of you. Maybe you could be shaped into something worthy of the Viltrumite cause.

But as he takes in your tear-streaked face, the way your body shakes beneath his touch, he doubts it. You’re too weak. Too small. Too soft.

It’s almost pathetic how fragile you are, how human you are.

Still, the thought lingers—what if? What if you could prove yourself? What if, against all odds, you showed even the slightest potential? Perhaps then he could convince their father to keep you after the takeover. It would be difficult, of course. Nolan had little patience for weakness, and you were the embodiment of everything the Viltrumite race despised. But if you somehow managed to prove your worth, there was a chance.

Mark’s lips curve into a faint smile, the thought of sparing you for his mother’s sake bringing him a strange sense of satisfaction. You weren’t ideal offspring, no, far from it. But you were her daughter. Debbie would appreciate having you around, he’s sure of it, especially when their father inevitably takes her away from Earth to shield her from the chaos of their conquest.

“You’re lucky, you know,” Mark murmurs, his voice low and smooth. His thumb pauses for a moment, pressing lightly against your cheekbone as his eyes bore into yours. “If it weren’t for Mom, I wouldn’t even consider giving you a chance. But maybe… maybe you’ll surprise us.”

You blink at him, your chest tightening as his words sink in. “A-a chance? Mark, what are you—”

He cuts you off, his smile widening slightly, but there’s no warmth in it. “You’ll see,” he says cryptically, pulling his hand away and standing to his full height. His shadow looms over you, and for a brief moment, you feel like you’re shrinking under his gaze.

“Just remember, (Y/n),” he adds, his tone shifting to something colder, more deliberate. “This world isn’t kind to people like you. But you’re lucky to have me. I’ll make sure you don’t get left behind.”

The words feel like a promise and a threat all at once, leaving you frozen in place as he turns and walks away, his presence lingering long after he’s gone.

You’re left alone in the empty hallway, your breaths shaky and uneven, the weight of his intentions pressing down on you like a vice. Lucky, he said. But you don’t feel lucky. You feel trapped. And no amount of tears can wash that feeling away.

You sit there, slumped against the wall, trying to process what the hell Mark was talking about. “If it weren’t for Mom?” What does that even mean? Why would she have anything to do with whether Mark decided to “give you a chance?” What kind of chance was he even talking about?

Your mind spirals as you try to make sense of his cryptic words, the unease clawing at your insides. The idea that your mother somehow factored into whatever twisted plans Mark had for you only made the knot in your stomach tighten. What was he planning? What did he mean by not getting left behind?

Your thoughts race, one question bleeding into the next as panic wells up inside you. You can’t piece it together. You don’t have enough information. But the way he looked at you—the cold calculation behind his eyes, the way his words felt like a threat wrapped in false care—it makes your skin crawl.

You bury your face in your hands, your breathing shallow as your mind loops through the interaction. What the hell is going on?

Meanwhile, Mark is on his way out of the school building, his phone already in hand. He dials the familiar number, his expression cool and composed. The phone rings only twice before the unmistakable voice of his father, Nolan, answers.

“What is it?” Omni-Man’s voice is gruff, direct, as always.

Mark leans against the wall outside, his tone calm but tinged with a quiet urgency. “It’s about (Y/n),” he begins, cutting straight to the point. “There’s something off with her. More than usual.”

On the other end of the line, Nolan sighs. His voice is bored, disinterested. “Mark, your sister has always been like this. Emotional and a bit erratic. It’s nothing new.”

Mark clenches his jaw but keeps his tone steady. “No, Dad, this is different. She’s acting weird—like, really weird. Come’on, I’m sure you’ve noticed how she’s stopped constantly asking to go out with us? Or how everytime she looks at one of us, her heart rate always increases, hell, I could smell the adrenaline rush that gets triggered.”

Nolan’s silence stretches for a moment. “Dad, why is she having a fight or flight, fear response triggered, huh?”

“Of course I’ve noticed, Mark,” Omni-man sighs out. “If it’s worth worrying about, I’ll handle it. But until then, she’s just…” He pauses, and Mark can practically see the look on his father’s face. “She’s still a human.”

Mark exhales sharply, but he doesn’t argue. He knows better than to push Nolan when he’s like this. “Fine,” he says, his voice tight. “But if I find out something important, I’ll let you know.”

“Do that,” Nolan replies curtly, and the line goes dead.

Mark slips his phone back into his pocket, his expression unreadable. He’s not entirely satisfied with his father’s response, but he’s also not surprised. Nolan has never had much patience for what he considers “mundane human nonsense.” If (Y/n)’s behavior didn’t involve anything worthy of the Viltrumite cause, it simply wasn’t a priority to him.

Still, Mark can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to this than his father realizes. And if Nolan won’t take it seriously, then Mark will.

[fatcatscafe]

Promise Me

Sebastian Sallow x GN reader

Summary: After a dangerous encounter with dark wizards leaves you injured and recovering in the Hogwarts hospital wing, Sebastian sneaks in to check on you. Words are spoken and unresolved feelings linger in the air.

Context: This is a continuation of my other fic but it can be read as a stand alone. This happens after the Slytherin Scriptorium quest.

Part One | Part two

You told yourself you needed rest. After enduring the searing pain of Crucio, you vowed to take a break—you deserved it.

But the following days offered little reprieve. Owls arrived incessantly, each carrying a plea for your help. Natsai wrote seeking assistance with her plans. Poppy begged for aid against poachers threatening magical creatures. Even Amit, ever the dreamer, invited you to stargaze.

You kept yourself busy, shoving aside your exhaustion and pushing through each task with determination. It wasn’t until you confronted a group of dark wizards in a grueling battle that the toll became undeniable. Victory was yours, but your body, battered and strained, finally gave in.

So, when you dragged yourself back to Natty, looking half-dead and barely upright, her reaction was immediate and fierce.

“You’re going straight to the nurse!” she demanded, her voice leaving no room for argument.

You tried to wave her off, mumbling something about chugging down some Wiggenweld potions will fix you, but the wobble in your step betrayed your words. Natty wasn’t having it. She grabbed your arm—not unkindly, but with enough force to let you know she wasn’t backing down.

So here you are, lying in the hospital wing.

Nurse Blainey gave you an earful when you arrived all bruised up. Neither you nor Natty dared to fully explain how the two of you had snuck off to track Rookwood and Harlow’s movements, only to be ambushed by dark wizards along the way.

So instead, you both decided to stick to a safer story: “It was a bad broom accident,” Natty had said smoothly.

You’d nodded along, adding, “We snuck out to fly in the middle of the night... it got out of hand.”

Nurse Blainey had narrowed her eyes, clearly unconvinced, but she let it slide—perhaps for her own peace of mind.

Now you’re left lying there, the quiet hum of the hospital wing giving you too much time to think.

Three days had passed since Sebastian, Ominis, and you ventured into the dungeons in search of Salazar Slytherin’s Scriptorium.

You hadn’t seen either of them since. The silence was deafening—no passing glances in the halls, no shared whispers in the common room. Even when you forced yourself to attend classes, neither Sebastian nor Ominis was there. 

You were guessing that Sebastian had immersed himself into studying the spellbook and Omnis probably took a few days off to grieve his aunt’s death. 

With a sigh, you sank deeper into the medical bed. You closed your eyes, desperate for sleep, but it was a futile effort. Someone else in the ward was snoring so loudly you might as well have been trying to rest beside a giant purple toad.

You groaned softly, shifting under the covers, when another sound caught your attention. Beneath the snoring, you could just make out a faint, irregular rattling noise. It was subtle, almost like the whisper of wind slipping through a cracked window, but there were no windows open in the hospital wing.

Focusing, you noticed the rattling sound was coming from the door. You sat up slightly, straining to listen, your heart quickening in your chest.

Suddenly, with a soft click, the door to the hospital wing slid open.

You squinted, your eyes narrowing as you peered through the dim light. Was it your imagination, or had you seen a figure crouching just inside the doorway? But when you blinked, it was gone.

Maybe it was just the nurse. Perhaps she’d forgotten to lock the door when she left for the evening. You didn’t think too deeply about it as you slid out of bed, intending to close the door yourself.

Still, a nagging feeling gnawed at you, the distinct sensation of being watched crawling up your spine. Perhaps the dark wizards had done a real number on you this time, leaving your mind jumpy and suspicious.

You barely reached the door when, out of nowhere, a pair of hands shot out from thin air, grabbing you.

Instinctively, you prepared to fight back, adrenaline surging as you opened your mouth to scream—only for the hands to clasp over your lips before a sound escaped.

“Shhhh, it’s me,” a familiar voice whispered urgently.

Your eyes widened as, piece by piece, his body materialized before you. First the outline of a face, then the curve of a smirk you recognized anywhere.

Sebastian.

“Oh, Merlin’s beard!” you hissed, your voice trembling between relief and frustration. “I was about to obliterate you into oblivion—oh, for gods’ sake, what are you doing here, Sebastian?”

His smirk widened, though there was a sheepish glint in his eyes. “I used Disillusionment to sneak in here,” he said matter-of-factly, as though sneaking into the hospital wing in the dead of night was entirely reasonable. “It was to come see you, of course.”

“Of course,” you echoed, rolling your eyes. “Because breaking into the hospital wing and scaring me half to death is such a normal way to check in on someone.”

Sebastian chuckled softly, the sound a strange mix of genuine amusement and something heavier, like guilt or worry. “Well, you weren’t exactly making it easy to find you,” he admitted. “And... I needed to make sure you were okay.”

“It was Imelda,” Sebastian said, his tone dripping with irritation. “She was going on about how she’s still the best flyer in the school, bragging endlessly as usual. And then she mentioned you.”

“Me?” you asked

He nodded “Apparently, someone told her you got into a broom accident and were lying in the hospital wing injured. Of course, she couldn’t resist turning it into another chance to proclaim herself the reigning champion of Slytherin—but that isn’t the point.”

“I didn’t believe it,” he continued, almost hesitant. “You? Getting into a flying accident? That sounded about as plausible as a troll performing ballet. So, I started thinking... maybe it wasn’t a broom accident. Maybe it had something to do with me.”

You stayed silent, waiting for him to go on.

“With the Crucio curse,” he finished, his voice laced with guilt. “I thought... maybe it was still affecting you somehow. Maybe that’s why you’re here.”

You almost wanted to laugh if it wasn’t for how serious Sebastian looked. 

Before you could open your mouth to explain, a loud cough from another patient in the ward snapped both of you to attention. Your eyes darted to the other beds, realizing just how precarious this situation was. If anyone caught Sebastian here, it wouldn’t just be you getting scolded—it could mean serious trouble for him.

Sebastian glanced toward the source of the noise “Let’s go somewhere more hidden,” he whispered.

You nodded the ache in your limbs made you stumble a bit. He reached out instinctively, steadying you as you followed him to a secluded corner of the ward. The hospital dividers provided a decent amount of cover, though you both moved carefully to avoid drawing attention.

Once hidden, Sebastian let out a soft breath. “Alright,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “Talk to me. What’s really going on? And don’t you dare say it’s a broom accident.”

You hesitated, glancing at him, the shadows of the makeshift corner making his expression harder to read. But the concern in his voice, the way he leaned slightly toward you, told you he wouldn’t let this go until he had answers.

You let out a heavy sigh. Lying to Sebastian felt impossible, even if you wanted to.

“It was Rookwood and Ranrok,” you admitted quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Natty said she found a lead—something she thought would be worth investigating. We thought it’d be a quick look, nothing too dangerous.”

“But we ran into dark wizards along the way,” you continued, swallowing hard. “And, well... it didn’t end greatly. We fought, but there were too many of them. Natty managed to get away unscathed, but I wasn’t so lucky.” You gestured vaguely at yourself, at the bandages and bruises.

“Fool—” Sebastian snapped, his tone sharp and cutting. “You should have asked for help. Rushing in like that was reckless and downright stupid.”

Part of you understood his anger—it came from a place of concern—but the way he spoke to you only added fuel to your own frustration. You straightened slightly, your voice defensive as you shot back, “It’s not like I had a whole lot of options, Sebastian. I didn’t exactly have a list of people ready to step in and help.”

His eyes narrowed, but before he could retort, you continued, your tone laced with exasperation. “And let’s not forget—you practically disappeared after the Scriptorium. I didn’t even know if you were okay, let alone where to find you. Besides, Natty asked for my help, not yours.”

He opened his mouth as if to say something, then hesitated, guilt flickering across his face.

“I—” he began, but his usual confidence faltered, his voice quieter now. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that betrayed his unease. “Listen, I wanted to visit you and Ominis, I really did. But that spellbook we found?” He paused, his eyes lighting up with an intensity that was both familiar and unsettling. “It’s incredible. I’ve uncovered so much—magic and spells that are never taught at Hogwarts.”

You could hear the fervor in his tone, the way his words quickened, tinged with both excitement and desperation.

“And I know—” he continued, his voice growing more resolute, “I know that somewhere in those pages lies the answer to Anne’s curse. Something that no one else has tried. Something that might actually work.”

He looked back at you, his expression softer now, the fire in his eyes tempered by guilt. “I didn’t mean to disappear,” he admitted quietly. “I just... I didn’t know how to face you after that. After everything we went through in the Scriptorium.”

A silence stretched between you, heavy and full of unspoken words. The faint sound of the other patients’ breathing and the occasional rustle of sheets were the only noises that broke the stillness.

You wanted to say something, to fill the void, but the weight of his confession left you momentarily speechless. The vulnerability in his tone was so unlike the Sebastian you were used to—the confident, sometimes cocky boy who always seemed to have a plan.

Finally, you found your voice. “Sebastian...” you began, your tone gentle but firm. “I get it. I know how much Anne means to you, and I know you’ll do anything to help her. But you can’t shut people out—I won’t stop you in your pursuit, but just... be careful, alright?”

He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Could say the same thing right back at you.”

You raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at your lips despite the tension. “Touché.”

Sebastian’s smile lingered, but the weight of everything unsaid still hung in the air. “I mean it,” he said after a beat. “You’re the one lying in a hospital bed right now, not me. You need to be careful too. I don’t think I could handle...” He trailed off, his gaze steady with yours.

“You won’t lose me, Sebastian,” you said softly, your tone steady. “I promise.”

He looked up at you then, something unspoken passing between the two of you. For a moment, it felt like the world outside the hospital wing didn’t exist—the dark wizards, the curse, the spellbook. It was just the two of you, sharing a fragile but meaningful connection.

Perhaps the two of you were too absorbed in the moment, lost in the intensity of the conversation and the connection you shared, to notice the time slipping by. It wasn’t until the faint glow of dawn began to filter through the hospital wing’s windows that you realized how long Sebastian had been there.

The quiet creak of the door opening made your stomach drop. Nurse Blainey stepped inside, a clipboard in hand as she began her early morning rounds, her sharp eyes scanning the ward.

You turned to Sebastian, panic flickering in your gaze. “You need to go. I’ll distract her. You sneak out. I can’t have you caught twice because of me.” 

“Wait!” Sebastian grabbed your hand, his grip firm but gentle. “Before you go, I—” He hesitated, fumbling inside his robes. “I wanted to give you this. Honestly, I thought you’d be asleep when I came in, but...”

He reached into his robes and pulled something out. It was a crumpled piece of parchment, which he pressed into your hand.

“Before you say anything,” he said softly, his voice uncharacteristically vulnerable, “just... read it later, when you’re alone.”

You stared at the note in your hand, your mind racing with questions, but the look in his eyes stopped you from prying further. There was something raw there, something he wasn’t ready to say aloud.

You hear Nurse Blainey walking closer now, “Sebastian,” you whispered urgently, “you need to go. Now.”

With a reluctant nod, he began to activate his Disillusionment Charm again, the shimmer of magic cloaking his figure. Before he disappeared entirely, he whispered, “Be careful. And thank you.”

You gave Sebastian a small smile before turning and walking away from the corner to Nurse Blainey. She was definitely mad, seeing you up and walking around despite her clear instructions to stay put. 

As she continued to lecture you, saying something along the lines of, “If you’re well enough to walk around, you’re well enough to attend class,” you caught sight of the faint shimmer of Sebastian under the Disillusionment Charm.

He paused briefly, his figure lingering near the doorway. His gaze—though invisible—felt fixed on you for a fleeting moment before he quietly slipped away, disappearing into the early morning light.

You held Nurse Blainey’s gaze, nodding along to her lecture, but your thoughts were elsewhere. As the faint shimmer of Sebastian disappeared from sight, a small smile tugged at your lips.

Once she finally moved on, you scurried back to your bed and pulled out the crumpled note Sebastian had pressed into your hand. Your fingers trembled slightly as you unfolded it, revealing the hurriedly scrawled words:

“You matter more to me than you know. Don’t you dare forget that. -S”

You stared at the words, your heart tightening as you reread them. Whatever doubts you’d carried about where you stood with him, this was his answer—a truth he couldn’t bring himself to say aloud but had etched onto the parchment instead.

The sun’s rays spilled into the ward, painting everything in a soft, golden hue. For the first time in days, you felt the tension in your shoulders ease.Sebastian might be infuriatingly stubborn, but beneath it all, his heart was in the right place.

And that was enough.

For now, at least.

Author's note: i hope you enjoyed that! i'm working on the third part where omnis and the mc get more interaction.

[ataraxiaspainting]

O Fatale Imperium, O Fortuna!

Part I of III - Power and Control.

Yan Sunday x F Reader.

Synopsis: At the heart of what used to be a town, your fellow villagers wait on their knees to be blessed by a kind stranger.

Warnings: Yandere themes, non-consensual body transformation, religious themes because it’s Sunday, unhealthy relationships, major spoilers for the main Penacony quest in Honkai Star Rail, manipulation, descriptions of poverty, descriptions of physical illnesses, minor character deaths, and drugging.

Word Count: 3k.

shoutout to my friend @harmonysanreads for proofreading some of it! i really appreciate her and all the stuff she writes so please check her out! <3

*~*~*~*

"Requiem aeternam dona ets, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat ets. Te decet hymnus, Deus, in Sion, et tibi reddetur votum in Jerusalem. Exaudi orationem meam, ad te omnis caro veniet. Requiem aeternam dona ets, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat ets."

- Introitus, Mozart's Requiem.

*~*~*~*

Jenovath, the planet of three truths – the closest neighbor of Penacony, the planet of dreams. Two moons rotate in a clockwise motion while the other two move in the opposite direction. The youngests, Jenova Nativitas and Jenova Vita, have almost always been a fated pair – one gifts humanity with vegetation while the other gifts them with life in other forms. Both have always been honored within your village – the most famous example being a large statue of the goddess Jenova at its center holding them in her gentle hands – unlike the other two planetoids. 

Jenova Mortem and Jenova Copulatio; both unwelcome gifts from Jenova’s son a millennium ago.

In your childhood, you remember the sun’s warmth atop your skin as you explored the forests around your village. Now Jenova Morteum and Jenova Copulatio have combined into one, and now this planet’s source of light is gone.

The plants died first. The herbivores next. The carnivores around the same time. There are no more blessings from Jenova Nativitas or Jenova Vita, only curses in the form of disease and disorder. Black coils inhabit the bodies of the older generations, the same ones who were cursed by their goddess’ envious only child.

The younger generation is left fighting for the scraps of a world forgotten by the rest of the universe. You may be older than some of them – you have no clue how people still have kids in times like this – but in reality, you’re just as lost. You’re just as clueless when it comes to begging whatever few travelers are left for necessities, and you’ll probably die soon just like everyone else who has come before you.

“Such unnecessary pain.” The stranger murmurs, kneeling to you. You don’t look anywhere aside from the makeshift knife in your hands. Your palms bleed since the handle is non-existent. After all, it is just a piece of glass you managed to take off of another abandoned lodge cabin meant for visitors.

The robe on his head does little to hide his real appearance. Golden eyes, a face as pale as sand, and what looks to be two halovian wings blending in with his gray hair.

Your body isn’t as damaged as the other people nestled in this part of the town – while you only have small black markings on the back of your neck going down to your midriff, most of the others have large excesses of skin on their faces, hands, and feet. Their ability to talk, walk, and touch things have been severely limited due to Hirona’s inflicted evil – meanwhile, you're only limited in the ways you can cover your markings because most of the clothing you once had has been sold.

*~*~*~*

Instead of sleeping on stone tiles – or a cardboard box if you had gotten lucky with your findings in garbage disposals – you lay awake, nestled between freshly ironed sheets and a mattress you feel is softer than a cloud. On the bedside table, there are a few gifts from the staff. Nothing too fancy with the crisis at hand, but the kind gesture is more than enough in comparison to what you have been given on the streets recently. A basket of cut bruised fruits, two red roses in a glass vase partially shattered on its top, and a little card with the manager’s signature on the back thanking the stranger – Sunday he told you was his name – for his patronage and blessings. Just an hour prior, he had presented you to the receptionist. She started to cry when she looked upon your skin, and soon some of the other staff members came to see what the commotion was about.

In just moments you two were presented with a freshly clean room – so clean you had nearly slipped on the wet flooring. You would have fallen if Sunday were not right behind you. It would be a terrible thing to have your curse undone and then proceed to break a few bones.

Sunday calls to you from the other side of the room, standing beside his own bed to read the note in his hands. “Miss [First], would you like some of my favors? I noticed yours are of… lesser quality.”

He’s observant from what you have seen thus far. After your healing, he had walked with you to the nearest clothing store – it was quite far, as evidenced by his offering for you to stay closer to the area he found you at while he went to secure the goods. He somehow knew your size and noticed how even your socks didn’t fit you as nicely anymore.

“I don’t mean any offense by the way; I’m also just not quite hungry at the moment.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, freeing yourself from the comforter. “I don’t mean to take more than I can give back. You have done so much already for me, for the people on Jenovath.”

“I argue that my efforts are just beginning.”

You turn your head a bit to the side, your grip on the warm pallet fading as you urge yourself to get up. “Are they?”

Sunday nods, putting a hand on his chest as he closes his eyes. The note falls with his other hand to his side. “After all, I have only cured about twelve people total thus far – including you. There is still much work to be done, so you can take as much as I throw.”

Your gluttony gets the better of you – you don’t ask for his permission again.

*~*~*~*

“How did it feel, kid?”

The man in front of you has given you no warning before he speaks. Instead of ever using his voice, the bottles and shakers and cups do the talking for him most of the time – and the strength in his body that almost anyone can notice right away. You would have to be a fool to start a riot in Cooper Caprum’s bar. The Great Bubble is no place for transgressors. 

“What are you talking about, Mister Caprum?”

“That boy – ‘Sunday’ I heard his name was.”

The two glass cups mix liquids without a mere ounce of Cooper’s strength. Everything he holds in his hands belongs to Jenovath’s much more successful neighbor; or more specifically one of its most popular companies. SoulGlad Soothing Soda. SoulGlad Redsunset Sauce. When the concoction turns a deep violet, you’re tempted to revoke the offer you made to him.

“Ah, so you know Mister Caprum already?” You nearly jump at the sound of Sunday’s voice coming from right behind you. “That’s lovely to know.”

He points to the stool beside you; it’s much less stable than the one you sat on. 

“May I join you two?”

“Of course,” You reply, switching your seating before he can fall. “Take mine-”

Since you took his place, it’s only natural you’re the one to hit the floor. The new grip on your wrist is tight, almost like an embrace. Once you are back to being upright, Sunday goes to brush the dust off of his sitting. 

You’re certain there is nothing, but Sunday somehow still sees dirt – and you decide to make nothing of it.

You sigh, pulling out your wallet in case this bet doesn’t work out in your favor. “One thousand, right?”

Cooper nods his head like an eager child whose parents agreed to get him a puppy in exchange for good grades. “Mmhmm… and one secret.”

“A secret?” Sunday inquires, raising one of his wings in confusion.

“Alright,” You shake your head, placing the agreed-upon amount of credits on the table. 

Cooper copies your gesture. “Which cup would you like to start with, Missy?”

“Small. Then… I’ll hopefully make my way up.”

…

You had lost the bet early on; you weren’t able to even finish the original small glass you had selected.

Cooper managed to drink the whole thing on his own – all with a chuckle and wink every few gulps he took. But he has been a bartender for twenty-four years, so you hardly find it surprising. He must have had countless odd combinations thrown back at him the moment the client didn’t approve of it, either made by him when experimenting or being told to do so by the client. From the few pictures left on the hotel’s walls, you assume that this is where he has gotten his strength; kicking people in the nose the instant they don’t want to pay their tab. 

He didn’t have as much body hair and not a single noticeable muscle, no tattoos but plenty of uncovered scars. 

“Two thousand now – do you want to keep going?”

“I think she’s had enough,” Sunday interrupts, putting his arm around your back to hoist you up with him. “We’ll go back to the room now, thank you.”

Cooper looks down expectantly at the space in front of you, only the original thousand credits placed upon it. 

When Sunday notices, he seems to resist grumbling and takes out the same credit amount from his pocket. “Here.”

“Thanks for your patronage, Mister Sunday.” Cooper chuckles, the cigarette in his mouth starting to lose its flame. “Come back again soon, kid.”

*~*~*~*

From his gaze alone, you can tell Sunday disapproves of your lost wager – it’s fair, you think, for him to feel only condemnation.

However, Sunday now disapproves of most activities you try to do now. He’s behind you whenever you enter the bar, reminding you of how much of a lightweight you are and how easy it is for Cooper to persuade you into things you normally would not do sober. He dislikes the preferential treatment he is given over you by most of the staff, demanding for you to be treated with equal respect.

“Miss [First] Alloy is the first person I have healed from Hiroth… please don’t treat her like she is nothing but lowly trash.”

Sunday does not sleep much anymore either, preferring to go into nearby houses to bless the cursed. 

You can hardly remember what he looks like without such heavy eyebags, almost as dark as the smoke that comes out from Cooper’s cigars. 

One day, he came back with a strange cut on his cheek – a cut too shallow for a knife but too deep for a fingernail. 

Your savior tells you not to worry about him – to focus on taking care of yourself because ‘there is no other care within this universe similar to it’ – but you can’t help frowning as you wipe the golden blood away.

*~*~*~*

“I can’t,” Sunday repeats, his arms still crossed as he looks at the three faces before him. A boy no older than six, a girl no older than five, and a woman who has her daughter’s blue eyes. “I have other matters to attend to. I apologize, Mrs. Caprum. Your husband gave you false hope.” When Mrs. Caprum tries to beg again, he unravels one of his arms, putting a hand up and shaking his head.

As Sunday has said over and over for the past hour, Cooper’s wife and children are beyond saving.

The boy has purple skin – clotted and puffy like balloons – covering his vision.

The girl is afflicted with a similar swollen spot on the top of her lips, preventing her from speaking.

Their mother’s entire skin was a sickening plum color with only a few areas smaller than a freckle remaining untouched. 

“I’m sorry.”

The words that come out of you are true, heartfelt, just like how Sunday has talked to you before. You look down before he does, not wanting to take in such a scene any longer. 

Sunday has told you he is not all-powerful. He has told many people that countless times, not that they listened to him. 

“Bullshit,” Cooper snaps – in an instant, Sunday’s scarf is grabbed and he is raised just an inch or two above the ground. “You can heal them – stop lying to me, you bragged all fucking night a week ago about your powers.”

“I do not brag, Mister Caprum.”

After the two stare – one with disappointment, the other with hate – you catch Sunday before he falls.

*~*~*~*

The next time you see Cooper, it is him sitting down at the bar. The Great Bubble has had a closed sign next to its front door for about twelve days now. 

Cooper took the time off, not paid of course, after Sunday’s denials. Sunday kept working to heal other people… but not the Caprum family.

“They’re dead.” The bartender murmurs when you’re just close enough. “My Sarah, my little Julia and Victor. They’re dead because of him.”

You don’t know how to reply; instead sitting on a wobbly stool that looks just as damaged as Cooper’s does.

You hold onto the table’s edge to keep a steady balance while Cooper rests his elbows atop it. Your mind – so silent now that Sunday has gone out on business yet again – wanders to find another purpose.

Perhaps you can help someone instead of relying on luck to do it for you.

“It’s probably not going to help… But,” You begin, looking at the stone’s large cracks instead of how skinny Cooper has gotten. “I can tell you the secret I promised you. Both of them.”

You try to follow a path similar to your savior’s – a path full of rejoicement and triumph. 

“I-”

I was a part of House Sterling. 

The rag covering your mouth prevents you from speaking.

I was the eldest daughter but was unwanted by my father. 

The sweet smell prevents you from screaming but also prevents you from speaking your truth.

As soon as my mother died, I was on the streets.

Your eyelids droop like you haven’t slept in a long time – so similar to when you were fending for yourself, for your sanity, for your hope-

*~*~*~*

“Ah,” Sunday looks down at you from the chair beside your bed – he closes the familiar book you see him carry everywhere. “You’re awake.”

You try to speak with all your might, but something is stuck within your throat – the passage of airflow and saliva is kept open, but words cannot seem to come out.

You taste something floral and sweet sticking to the roof of your mouth. Earthy not like a mushroom… but like tea that has been steeping for much too long. It takes a few more moments for you to learn how to breathe strictly through your nose as something tickles you every time you inhale the air.

“Mister Caprum has been put under arrest.” He leans in, his hair nearly covering the entirety of his eyes and forehead from sight. The smell of cleanliness does little to deflect your senses from the inside of your mouth. 

There is a hint of blood coming out from the lump in your throat. 

Or is it from the supposed pacifist?

“You need not fear anymore.”

Maybe it is from both of you.

“I shall take care of all your burdens and woes.”

Maybe it is from neither of you.

“You don’t need to lift a finger anymore, Miss Alloy.”

You try not to force yourself to even whisper to him – even though you have so much to say, so many questions to ask him. You remain silent as Sunday takes the wrist closest to him, holding the palm against the right side of his chest. 

“I was horrified.” He admits, forcing a gentle smile as he now stares down at himself. “I had thought I was… going to lose you. I thought maybe Mister Caprum wouldn’t treat you differently because of what had happened. I thought wrong, it seems.”

That explains only half of the story. Why can’t you talk? Why does your larynx feel like it is being squeezed until it eventually pops? Why is there a minty aroma being mixed in with the scent of blood?

It doesn’t hit you yet – Sunday attempts to tell you the answers you wish for as nice as he can.

“I regret letting you know someone so… advantageous.” You feel his heartbeat. It’s slightly above yours, moving up and down in a way akin to a rainstorm’s rhythm. Bum bum. Bum bum. Bum bum. “He takes your money, uses your trust, attempts to take your secrets, and he almost took you.” 

The pulse quickens faster than you can process his words. Dun dun dun. Dun dun dun. Dun dun dun.

“I’ll miss your voice. I’ll miss a lot of things from you,” Your vision somehow gets more blurry, more hazy. Ah. It’s simply your tears – one of the few things Sunday doesn’t plan to take from you. After all, everyone cries. “But it’s for the best. I’m sorry it had to go this way.” 

He is genuinely sorry. So very sorry. You know he is. However, it doesn’t make the thorns digging into your throat any less painful.

“Please don’t hate me.” He sounds near tears himself. Maybe that is why he doesn’t see your sadness as something to alleviate – he cannot even stop himself, much less stop you or anyone else. “Hyssop flowers are beautiful.”

*~*~*~*

“Kyrie eleison.

Christe eleison.

Kyrie eleison.”

- Kyrie, Mozart's Requiem.

*~*~*~*

a/n - ahhhhhhh chapter one’s done! if anyone wants to leave any suggestions or theories, i would be happy to hear them!! aya out… only for now of course!

[wahhzo]

FINALLY... I OFFER UP TO THEE... THE SACRED HEADCANON POST!!

i do have a Lot more, but just wanted to compile a few together and draw em as a group. more of these silly guys to come!!

(also check out @minkshame and @holy-reference-in-a-username bc they greatly influenced my headcanons for these guys!! amazing artists and writers!!)

EDWARD GUINTO

• Half-Filipino, Half-British

• Asexual but other than that he dgaf (he/she/they)

• Freelance Animator and Comic Artist

• AuDHD 👍

• Stopped shaving in solidarity with Tom!!

• Stopped wearing earrings after a few years...

• Only one responsible for the house keys lmao

• Multiples of the same green hoodie (zip-up and closed)

THOMAS REEVES

• Half-British, Half-American

• Omni, transmasc (he/they)

• Part-time at records store, freelance composer

• Hair is styled like that bc it is damaged from years of dyeing and straightening 😔

• Stopped shaving bc of. Depression

• Broken nose bridge from a fight w/ Tord (pre-25 FT)

• Pierced his, Edd's, and Tord's ears when they were teens (Matt was too scared)

MATTHEW HARRISON V

• Half-British, Half-Scottish

• Pan, and gendefluid (he/she)

• Hair stylist and nail tech

• Used to straighten hair, doesn't anymore (whines to Tom about his hair)

• Braids his hoodie strings :- >

• Assigned cook and baker for everyone (they are his test subjects also.)

• AuDHD and OCD 👍

TORD LEONARDSEN

• Norwegian

• Asexual, biromantic, and transgender man (he/him)

• Mechanical engineer

• Autism and OCD 👍

• Pock marks bc he picked at his it constantly

• Pronounced upper lip!!

• Scars on hands from. Work, fighting, and tinkering 😭

• Sleeper build... Worked out a lot after he moved out

[writing-reference-redux]

I felt like sharing my collection of Latin phrases that may make good fanfic or fanart titles or inspiration. Some of the translations may be off, so you might want to double-check them before use. Also, I used capitalization liberally so you might also want to check where capitalization is actually indicated.

Ab Intra (From Within)

Acta Est Fabula (The play has been performed)

Acta Sancti ___ (The Deeds of Saint ___)

Ad Undas (to the waves / to hell)

Advocatus Diaboli (Devil's advocate)

Aegri Somnia (a sick man's dreams / troubled dreams)

Alea Iacta Est (the die has been cast / point of no return)

Apologia Pro Vita Sua (defense of one's life)

Caetera Desunt (the rest is missing)

Cedere Nescio (I know not how to yield)

Damnatio Memoriae (damnation of memory / denying someone ever lived)

De Nobis Fabula Narratur (their story is our story)

Decessit Vita Patris (died before their father)

Diem Perdidi (I have lost the day)

Dies Tenebrosa Sicut Nox (a day as dark as night)

Dolor Hic Tibi Proderit Olim (some day this pain will be useful to you)

Dulce Est Desipere In Loco (It is sweet on occasion to play the fool)

Dum Vivimus, Vivamus (while we live, let us live)

Dux Bellorum (war leader)

Ex Umbra In Solem (from the shadow into the light)

Festina Lente (hurry slowly)

Fortis Cadere, Cedere Non Potest (the brave may fall, but can not yield)

Fui Quod Es, Eris Quod Sum (I once was what you are, you will be what I am)

Graviora Manent (heavier things remain / the worst is yet to come)

Haec Olim Meminisse Iuvabit (one day, this will be pleasing to remember)

Hic Mortui Vivunt (here the dead speak)

Hinc Illae Lacrimae (hence those tears)

Hodie Mihi, Cras Tibi (Today it's me, tomorrow it will be you - of death)

In Ictu Oculi (in the blink of an eye)

In Somnis Veritas (in dreams there is truth)

Inter Spem Et Metum (between hope and fear)

Lapsus Memoriae (slip of memory)

Luctor, Non Mergor (I struggle, but am not overwhelmed)

Lux Ex Tenebris (light from darkness)

Media Vita In Morte Sumus (In the midst of our lives we die)

Memento Mori (remember that you will die)

Memento Vivere (remember to live)

Morior Invictus (I die unvanquished / death before defeat)

Mundus Senescit (the world grows old)

Nemini Parco (I spare no one - death)

Nitimur In Vetitum (we strive for the forbidden)

Non Ducor, Duco (I am not led; I lead)

Non Omnis Moriar (I shall not all die / part of me will survive beyond death)

Nunc Scio Quid Sit Amor (now I know what love is)

Oderint Dum Metuant (let them hate, so long as they fear)

Omnia Mutantur (everything changes)

Onus Probandi (burden of proof)

Opera Posthuma (posthumous works)

Ophidia In Herba (a snake in the grass)

Pax Aeterna (eternal peace - a common epitaph)

Primum Non Nocere (first do no harm)

Pulvis Et Umbra Sumus (we are dust and shadow)

Quis Leget Haec? (who will read this?)

Quod Periit, Periit (what Is gone is gone)

Res, Non Verba (deeds, not words)

Respice Finem (consider the end)

Scientia Et Sapientia (knowledge and wisdom)

Seculo Seculorum (forever and ever)

Sed Terrae Graviora Manent (but on earth, worse things await)

Si Vis Pacem Para Bellum (if you want peace, prepare for war)

Sic Infit (so it begins)

Sic Vita Est (such is life)

Silentium Est Aureum (silence is golden)

Sine Nomine (without a name / author unknown)

Sola Dosis Facit Venemum (the dose makes the poison)

Solvitur Ambulando (it is solved by walking / simple tests find solutions)

Stamus Contra Malum (we stand against evil)

Succisa Virescit (cut down, we grow back stronger)

Sum Quod Eris (I am what you will be - of death)

Summum Bonum (the supreme good)

Summum Malum (the supreme evil)

Sunt Lacrimae Rerum (there are tears for things)

Sunt Omnes Unum (they are all one)

Tabula Rasa (blank slate)

Transire Benefaciendo (to travel along while doing good)

Tu Fui Ego Eris (I was you; you will be me - of death)

Ubi Amor, Ibi Dolor (where there is love, there is pain)

Ultima Forsan (perhaps the last / sundial quote "perhaps your last hour")

Usque Ad Finem (until the end / fight to the death)

Vacate Et Scire (Be still and know)

Vi Et Animo (with heart and soul)

Victoria Aut Mors (victory or death)

Vincit Qui Patitur (he conquers who endures)

Vita Ante Acta (a life done before - of reincarnation)

Vivere Militare Est (to live is to fight)

Vox Clamantis In Deserto (the voice of one crying in the wilderness)

There are also some longer ones that may not make good titles because of their length, but are still worth inclusion:

Aut Simul Stabunt Aut Simul Cadent (they will either stand together or fall together)

Flectere Si Nequeo Superos, Acheronta Movebo (if I can not reach Heaven I will raise Hell)

Forsan Et Haec Olim Meminisse Iuvabit (perhaps even these things will be good to remember one day)

Igitur Qui Desiderat Pacem, Praeparet Bellum (therefore whoever desires peace, let him prepare for war)

In Regione Caecorum Rex Est Luscus (in the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king)

Minus Malum Toleratur Ut Maius Tollat (choose the lesser evil so a greater evil may be averted)

Quem Deus Vult Perdere, Dementat Prius (whom the gods would destroy, they first make mad)

Ubi Sunt, Qui Ante Nos Fuerunt? (Where are they, those who have gone before us?)

Virtus Junxit Mors Non Separabit (that which virtue unites, let not death separate)