ps-cactus

[ps-cactus]

it's your golden hour ☀️

@girl-named-matty!!! GIRLIE. Thank you so much for these amazing screenshots. I've lost my speech. No words.

[ps-cactus]

[ ROOTED ] // Sebastian Sallow & GN!Reader & Ominis Gaunt

pt.2 of 2 ↓ 3,2k words. Pt.1 Here it was supposed to be one shot

tags and warnings (same as pt.1): no smut, no obvious romance, established relationship, unreliable narrator, haunting, mystery, dark magic, death and resurrection, identity loss, obsession, blood/mild gore, symbolism. No Y/N. Necromancer Seb lol.

Also posted on AO3

A/N: lol this part wasn't ever meant to be, but I watched the 'Dark' series and heard Hozier's song there. So here is the thing.

Summary: You died. Here is what happens after a short while.

“What else has to happen before you admit you’re lying to yourself?”

The Moonlight man's voice is as cold as your favourite soft light, the one already gone. It merged with the thick dark of night and dissolved it into this lifeless grey. Your plan quickly collapsed: no leading them into the forest, no quenching your burning thirst, no basking in the approval of your achievements. There are only the ropes holding your body tight, almost pressing you down, making you feel weaker.

The Firelight man has stopped begging his companion, and now he’s begging you. His words are endless and insistent, sometimes desperate and so heavy, as if they hurt him to speak. As if he were dying and clinging to whatever life’s left with all the words he can try. But you know better. He isn’t dying. There is not a single fresh wound on him, not even the faintest shine of blood. Even the runes on his forearms, the ones carved just like yours, are now wrapped in many clean and thick bandages soaked in something herbal. You can hardly smell his blood at all. 

Oh, you remember that scent. So sharp, so real it sings in your bones. You’ll never forget it. Nor the hunger it stirs. You swallow, ignoring the voice beside you, trying to pretend the thick saliva clinging to your mouth is warm metallic blood instead.

A glint of light hits your eye, making you flinch. He’s holding something small and metal in front of you. 

“Please, just look. Can you recognise it?”

You study the object, something new in this painfully narrow, suffocating world at last. It's a fine chain with a coin, covered in little dots. Your mind has finally been helping instead of hindering, and it tells you there is something else. Something familiar. It’s an amulet.  

You think you probably had a dream of something like it once. You even lower your heavy head to check. But there’s nothing there. Just your dirt-smudged shirt, with a few buttons missing. And the ropes binding you.

“Yes! Oh, Merlin…” He moves closer, the floorboards groaning right beside you. “Yes, it's yours. That's right.”

“What?” The Moonlight man steps slightly closer, then stops. He never even looked at you once, and he hasn’t come near in a long time. You don’t bother looking at him as well anymore.

“I think it's working. You remember, don’t you?”

A hand holds the amulet closer to you. Your vision is hazy again, blurred by exhaustion and this grey morning light. You don’t look at the coin, distracted by little freckles on a hand where bandages end, wishing you knew why they catch your attention so much. 

The metal catches the light again. It glints, flashing into your eyes. You shift away as much as you can.

The thing irritates you. It angers you.

He's mocking you. Of course he is. Offering something you physically can’t even reach. He was the one who made these ropes appear, wrapping you so tightly you can’t even move properly, let alone get away to the deep, steady calm of the forest.

You kick your legs toward him with all the force you can muster, trying to land a blow. It's not nearly enough, and you miss. He retreats quickly, stopping when he's well out of your reach. With every move he makes, you hate him even more.

“And this?” 

“It’s alright, it's nothing," the Firelight man insists. He raises an empty hand in front of the glowing wand’s tip aimed at you. “A little more time, that’s all I ask. It must be like when a bludger hits your head. The memories come back. They’re there. I know they are.”

The Moonlight man rarely speaks at all. You already despise him for it. For this silence. You hate how unpredictable it makes him.

Eventually, he puts the wand away. Reaches out a hand, helping the other one up from the floor.

The warmth in the room rises slowly, then consumes. The house shrinks around you. You breathe, but it’s not air anymore, rather something dry and stifling, like heat turned to finest dust. It clings to your lungs, making you cough. Your body, still so new to feeling alive, fades again. The clarity slips.

The always-talking man drinks water and offers it to you. Just the mere thought of it in your mouth makes you cough again, and you turn away.

You regret instantly. The light from the window is blinding. Too close, too white. Makes this air so bright and impossible to breathe. You notice how your exposed skin begins to dry out from it, turning grey.

You need to get out. 

You need shade. 

Just a little further into the dark. 

Whatever your body can manage.

There’s a patch of shade beneath an armchair. Everything you need now. You inch toward it, trembling. The ropes tighten around you, the floorboards claw at your clothes, but none of it matters. You don't even realise the noise you're making. Or that the chair isn’t empty.

“Just a moment, alright? Don’t move… Hey—sunlight bothering you?” The always-talking man glances between you and the window. He moves his hand and the curtains draw closed with a soft whoosh. “The days’ve been sweltering here lately. That’s better, yeah?”

You flinch away from his hands as he moves you to the other wall. The floor is still warm from the sun, but at least there’s no direct light. 

He sits against the other wall, not far from you. Sometimes you meet each other’s eyes. You’re alright with him looking at you, his brown eyes remind you of a tree bark in the night forest, and this memory soothes you. It brings you hope.

The books and piles of paper are all over the floor. The two men read. Write. One of them looks your way sometimes. Rubs his face a lot. He and the other, even quieter man, both speak in low voices. They ask you question after question. Their words make less and less sense to you. Again and again, they show you some metal coin. Every time your jaw clenches, but you don't know anymore if the light it once reflected was ever real. 

You can barely see though the haze as the quiet man murmurs to the floating quill at the kitchen table. When he finishes, he folds the parchment, picks up some of the pages near you, and walks away. Near the door, he briefly halts. 

At that same moment, the man with four books in his lap asks about the metal coin in his palm. You don’t have the strength to think. You can’t even look anymore. Light spills from the open door onto the floor and walls. Even from there, it weighs on you. It's impossible to keep your heavy eyelids open.

When you wake, the presence of something passing close by startles you.

“Did you fall asleep?”

“No, just… No.”

There are two strange men in the strange oppressive room. One sits on the floor with the back of his head against the wall. He covers his face with his bandaged hands. The standing man is a bit closer. 

You struggle to tell if this thought is real, but you realise the room feels so strange for a reason. You’re no longer in the spot you think you were. Did you crawl to this place? Did someone move you? Most importantly, you're away from that terrible daylight. 

Your limbs tremble under the weight of the heat around you. It’s hard to breathe here. You stretch slightly, trying to wake your limbs. The closer man shifts while talking and his close presence coils tight in your chest. You can't make sense of his words, but they definitely unsettle you.

“They said memories might exist, but they don’t return. They fade. And something else takes their place.”

His voice is low, he's holding a wand angled toward the floor. You avoid looking at the faint red glow at its tip. Instead, your eyes stay fixed on the man's other hand, where his fingernail drags over the same patch of skin again and again. 

“And in the end… None of their subjects retained any resemblance to who they were. You’re the one who decided not to hear it when they warned us.”

“Maybe that’s what happens when you call someone a subject,” the bandaged man says, getting up and stepping over the papers on the floor. “Do you want to rest?”

“You’ve been treating them like that since the beginning. Well... we both have now. And it only gets worse. It’s cruel, Sebastian. I can’t—I don’t want to.”

The quiet voice changes. It reminds you of some comfort that makes you almost stand this man. You notice he’s so tall and so pale, he makes you think of the moonlight—the only thing you know and miss so much.

But it isn’t real, anyway. The real moonlight would never have scared or hurt you. And you are scared and hurt near this man.

The skin on the finger he's been scratching finally splits. Just the tiny trace of the fresh blood, but the smell already fills your lungs. It doesn’t give you any power, but it clears the fog in your mind. Not all of it, however enough to show you a clear line between you and the man.

While voices ring, the disturbing red glow on the wand's tip fades. You move closer. Neither of them notices; they’re busy being loud. Looking at the injured finger, you swallow nothing. Your mouth has been so dry for so long. 

Risk doesn’t matter, it doesn't even exist anymore. You’re sitting well enough. That’s all you need. The bandaged man turns away, running a hand through his dark hair. 

You move fast. You kick the closer man in the legs. He stumbles. You kick again. His wand skids across the floor as he drops, trying to reach it, or just falling.

You’re immediately losing all the little strength you gathered. But the thoughts unravel. The man's so close now, and only one thing stays.

You bite. Hard. Deep. 

You tear.

You’re furious.

...You almost cry in despair. 

You wanted something so small. But there’s nothing. No metallic taste. No warmth. No blood. 

The frustration eats the last of your strength. You can’t move anymore, just breathe in this thick, choking air.

“No, it is me. Let me see… It’s fine... Just the sleeve.”

“And if it wasn't?”

“But it was. Just the sleeve.”

“That not what I asked!”

“I—I don't know.”

“Pretend better.”

The voices fade, swallowed by endless silence. You don’t know how long you lay in it, or whether it’s real or just your exhaustion playing tricks on you. You don't care.

He’s there. The man you slightly recognise as the one always being loud, he's looming above you.

“Why did you do that?” 

You just stare at the heavy tear gathering on his lower lashes just few inches from you. You’re too afraid to move, terrified that any such effort might push you back into the fog and silence where thought stops existing. You didn't like it there.

“Why?” The man says again, even louder now. His voice shakes with it, his whole body does. You flinch when the tear finally falls, landing on your shirt. “He’s your friend. And so am I. Don't you remember anything? Anything at all? You recognised the amulet, didn't you? Can you just say it at least?”

The word friend brings one thing to mind: that metal amulet. It's lying on the floor not far away from you. The image crawls back into your mind, of this man holding the amulet out like a trick before your eyes. The useless questions he’s been asking. 

You say nothing. You don’t want the loud man’s voice, nor his presence. Whatever little space your body allows, you use to lean away from him.

From somewhere else in the room, a softer voice cuts through: “You’re torturing everyone in this room right now. Stop.”

The man rises, careful to not touch you. “Maybe I only imagined the thing with the amulet… You’re right. This… has to stop.”

He takes a few steps away. Points his wand at you. Then lowers it. Lifts it again, but there’s even less resolve in the motion this time. His breath stutters. Deep, unsteady. You can hear it well. Just as the pulse beneath this flushed freckled skin. Wild and out of rhythm.

As the air around and inside you grows nicely colder, something begins to settle in your mind. Urgency. 

A wicked and fulfilling combo of clarity, fear, and rage.

This one's been speaking all the words in the world to you, begging you to answer. The other man behind him brought you to this place from your peaceful home, and just let you be held captive here. 

And now they're going to kill you.

You thrash like a cornered, injured animal, throwing yourself against the ropes binding your body—sideways, forward, back. They tear at your skin, and you let them. You just want out, whatever this out might be. You’ll keep trying and fighting, even if this is how it all ends.

Desperation even gives you this surge, and your head hits the floor hard. A white flash. Maybe you meant to. Maybe not. Either way, the world around you vanishes for a few solid seconds.

The first thing that comes back is sound: a high-pitched ringing. Then, the shape of the Firelight man sitting on the floor. Hand on his head. 

The ropes are gone.

You realise it only a second too late, just as they pull tight again.

“Wait!”

He reaches toward you. You don’t let him. You throw your weight forward, reckless and full. The fabric tears beneath you, your skin dragging with it against the floorboards. The muscles seize. You make it worse. 

Something cracks. Heat explodes in your left shoulder—sharp, deep, blinding.

Perfect.

The man’s bandaged hand flies to his shoulder. The same place. The same pain? 

Better than perfect.

You turn your body and press your burning shoulder into the floor. Push harder. The cry that escapes you is half agony, half victory.

But you can't hold it. 

Your breath snags. Your body folds. Still clinging to survival. Still trying to keep your bones intact.

The pain pulses through your bones. The ringing in your ears doesn’t stop. You don't move.

You’re sick of the same unchanging scene here. These walls, this airless room. Just beyond these choking walls, the forest waits. Full of breath, of movement, of everything this place is not. The forest doesn’t fear you. Doesn’t resist you. It waits and wants you back. 

And still, these two sit. Still, they talk, write, and read. What a waste. 

The floor is no longer warm with the sunlight, and it excites you to finally feel the night arriving and your mind clearing. The chill is sneaking in already, threading through cracks, brushing your skin. Soon it will be everywhere.

You’re ready and you want it to hurry.

The pain in your shoulder fades to a dull, steady ache. You feel calm. You can breathe as good as this tiny room allows.

The Moonlight man has drifted off more than once in the armchair. But the Firelight man hasn’t slept at all. He keeps sipping from small vials, and whatever’s in them makes his heartbeat unbearably loud to you. Now he just sits there, staring at his countless pages. Turns his wand over and over in his hands. Even that object, hated as much as the two of these people, reminds you of something gentler. Home. The forest, where every tree waits patiently, knowing you’ll return.

And when you think about it, it’s more than a reminder. It’s the truth: every wand was once part of the forest. Something of the forest still lives inside it, reshaped but never gone.

You focus on the wand. Really focus. The grain of the wood. The shallow grooves. You don’t have to imagine them. You can see them. Your vision sharpens again. The flickering light of the fireplace dances over the surface, but nothing blurs anymore. A single silver beam slips past the curtain, almost like it’s calling for you. Closer than you expected. It takes only a few minutes to edge toward it, dragging your back along the pleasantly cool wall.

You flinch when the light touches you, so weightless and so soft at once. You even close your eyes. Nothing’s happening in the room anyway.

The light settles into you. Steady, gentle. Clear. If a single thread of moonlight can bring this much comfort, then the truth is simple: you have to leave this house. Even if you go alone. You’ll bring them later, once you’re strong enough again.

Watching the Firelight man’s wand stops being a mere distraction; it becomes a game. You enjoy seeing the slow creep of soft green across the wood. Lichen works into every groove, every grain. And with every growing patch, the ropes around you loosen.

Bit. By. Bit.

The Moonlight man had stepped away to return with the mug that the Firelight man takes from him. For the first time in hours, he looks at you. He says nothing. Doesn’t linger. You haven’t moved, not really, and he doesn’t see that the tension in your limbs is gone. That the bindings have thinned to shimmer, nothing more than tricks of light.

The crackling fire masks the subtle, splintering sound coming from his wand’s wood. 

You can’t afford to wait for the same to happen to the second one. Your body hums with readiness. If you don’t act now, the moment will vanish again, just like it did last night. You glance toward the door. It’s so far. Heavy. You’re strong again, but you’ll need every second. 

The window is closer. The glass is thin. Just reaching past the curtain will feel good. And once you’re outside, they’ll be too slow and distracted to follow.

It’s time.

The Firelight man yawns, refusing to rest—and in that split second, you leap to your feet. Swing the curtain open. Behind it, a small stone pot sits on the windowsill. You hurl it through the glass. Then you follow, crashing through after it, barely noticing pieces of your reflection in the broken glass. 

The cuts don’t matter. You’ll survive them. What you couldn’t survive was staying.

Behind you, something shatters. Flares. The voices rise, sharp and unbearable. 

But the forest has been waiting. And now it receives you. 

You run. 

You breathe. 

Finally.

Every rotted leaf and every fresh green bud, every whisper of wind and call of night bird on it—everything greets you like an old friend. They lend you speed. They give you strength. They bring you joy. All the ground belongs to you again, even the pieces of it you’ve never seen or touched before. 

Beneath endless trees veiled in shadow, under canopies bathed in silver light, you stop to look and listen.

You are alone. 

You are free.

A strange sound breaks the stillness, but it’s not coming from the woods. It’s you. You’re laughing. It feels good.

You know now that even without them, your return will be accepted. It’s only temporary anyway. You’ll fix it and bring them. You can fix anything now.

Your thoughts are crisp and certain. You press a hand to your chest, feeling how deeply the breath sinks in—cold, damp, glorious. 

And you remember the amulet, the one that lived here once. Metal, weighty, resting on a chain so old it had snapped twice. Once, you repaired it. The second time, it was the Firelight man who fixed it. For you. You suddenly wonder why you call him that. 

And you look down at your chest.

Without thinking, you tear another button from your shirt. You scratch at the skin beneath. But no. There’s nothing.

And there never was.

There were never Ominis’ hand, tracing the dots on that amulet, pointing out the astronomical mistake, though he still called it finely made.

Sebastian’s hair was never tangled in the chain while he slept on your chest. That warm weight, that closeness—of course, it was never real.

Just a trick of mind after all the suffering they put you through. But now, you are strong. You are ready. You are near. You promise to stop being so confused about what’s real.

There was only ever the forest. And you, woven into it as deeply as its roots, as bound to it as your breath to this wind. 

You raise your face toward the moon. Still far. Still watching. Still silent.

The moon has to help you.

And you promise to listen, after all this is your one true…

friend?

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Me from hiatus zone staring at the HL fandom tumblr holding the thing (the new part of something that was meant to be a one shot) behind my back:

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*gets down on one knee* I want to make a shared oc universe with you

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HLMCU group photo of the last day of school! Summer here they come!

♡︎ Ellie - @accio-bagel, Val & Ale - @savingsallow, Damien - @theladyofshalott1989, Tori - @espressoristretto-patronum, James - @leaping-toadstool-caps, Alyn @ps-cactus, Jo - @ravenwind-75, Freddie & Wren - @freddiestheproblemchild.

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HOGWARTS LEGACY PRIDE WEEK

prompt: community

Lineart by me, render by @traceyc-uk

Before meeting Sunan, Chris and NFY, although talented musicians, were better known for getting into trouble and for the striking contrast of their personalities, for which they were nicknamed "Dandelion and Burdock" by the local music community.

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HOGWARTS LEGACY PRIDE WEEK

prompt: modern AU

The Grumpy One, The Smiley One @traceyc-uk and The Flirty One @itsame-domi 🤨😃😏

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Pride Week Prompt: Crossover - them crossed with Sk8 the Infinity is always so fitting. Reference to official art

Nfy x Chris @diana-bluewolf

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Day 4: Domesticity

On AO3!

Title: The little dragon who couldn't breathe fire

Relationship: Tori Lewis x Poppy Sweeting

Summary: "“Mamma, leggi la storia del drago?”

Tori looks down to her four years old son sitting on her lap with great surprise. It isn't new that Eleazar peppers his speech with snippets of Italian, her second language, but the request itself is."

AKA

Eleazar asks his Mamma to read a dragon tale in Italian

Theme song: Per te by Jovanotti

Huge thank you to Celeste for beta-reading it 🥺

@hogwartslegacyprideweek

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✨ Morally Colour-Coded Characters + Neurodivergence & Personality Traits 🧠

Hogwarts Legacy Edition 🪄

* DISCLAIMER: This analysis isn’t meant to be an absolute truth, but rather a personal and SPECULATIVE interpretation of these characters. You’re welcome to share your own perspective too! ❤️

🩶 MORALLY GREY: Sebastian Sallow

Driven by devotion and desperation, ruined by impulse. Deeply compassionate and empathetic at heart, but his inability to regulate his impulses and accept limits make him dangerous.

He unconditionally protects those he loves (especially Anne), even if it means defying every rule, law, or moral boundary.

🧠 Sebastian's Neurodivergent & Personality SPECULATIVE profiles:

- ADHD (Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder), but predominantly Hyperactive-Impulsive type): his restless energy is reflected in his quick mood swings and impulsive tendency to act without full consideration, especially during confrontations or tense situations. His hyperactivity isn’t only physical but mental as well: he’s constantly thinking, researching, and driven by an insatiable curiosity, especially about the Dark Arts and forbidden knowledge. This impulsivity also affects his relationships: when overwhelmed or frustrated, he sometimes dismisses his best friend Ominis and his advice, prioritising using MC as a means to achieve his own goals rather than showing consistent loyalty. These behavioural patterns are commonly associated with ADHD: due to lower sensitivity or availability of dopamine receptors in some brain areas, he tends to seek novelty and intensity as a form of compensation, often manifested as impulsive decisions, risk-taking, and nonstop mental activity.

- CPTSD (Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder) features: rooted in his traumatic family background and personal losses. Also, the curse affecting his sister Anne fuels his deep-seated and sometimes irrational hatred towards the goblins he believes responsible. This trauma might manifest in intense emotional reactions, guardedness, and difficulties fully trusting others.

- Mild Oppositional Defiant traits: occasionally resists authority or social expectations.

- Possible Giftedness?: demonstrates strong magical aptitude, intellectual curiosity and problem-solving skills.

Fandom whisper: “He’s a red flag you’d proudly wave at the Quidditch Cup”

🟢 MORALLY GREEN: Ominis Gaunt (to me, he’s the most psychologically complex character, so grab a drink, this is going to be a long one)

On the surface, he is polite, ethical, composed, but beneath that lies a fierce moral conviction, deep compassion, and the quiet courage to stand firm for what’s right and against violence and dark paths. He's determined to break free from his toxic legacy and refuses to become like them.

His introversion is a shield, but also a prison. Blindness isn’t just a physical limitation, he fears his own helplessness, his limits, and how easily he could be manipulated when left behind by the ones he truly loves.

🧠 Ominis' Neurodivergent & Personality SPECULATIVE profiles:

- *ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder, Level 1) ❤️: he presents a strong attachment to a strict moral code and routines. His communication style is direct and serious, he rarely engages in sarcasm or jokes. He reacts with visible anxiety to unexpected changes or tense situations, often accompanied by repetitive self-soothing body language. Some of his behaviours (like sitting alone on the floor in a busy area deeply absorbed in his thoughts) might be perceived by others as disruptive or socially atypical. But despite his rigid mindset, he’s not emotionally invulnerable. He also shows signs of emotional shutdown under relational pressure. When it comes to his best friend Sebastian, all that structure collapses, choosing emotional self-preservation (connection) over his values and principles (convicion), e.g., when he allows MC to cast Imperius on him to avoid damaging his bond with his best friend, or when he breaks down crying over the decision to turn Sebastian in or not... he’d rather lose control than lose Sebastian (did you notice Ominis’ face during the end-of-year ceremony when you choose to turn in Sebastian? The sadness in his expression makes the whole scene truly devastating).

* While some behaviours could also be linked to childhood trauma (CPTSD), the consistency and subtle rigidity in his responses (along with self-soothing actions, deep moral conviction, sharp emotional intuition, difficulty with social flexibility and emotional shutdown under pressure) hint to me at possible neurodivergence as well (ASD). - CPTSD (Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder): including symptoms such as emotional dysregulation, hypervigilance, difficulties trusting others and problematic attachment patterns with his elitist family due to a childhood marked by coercion and fear tied to dark magic and an obsessive belief in blood purity) 😭

- Possible GAD (Generalized Anxiety Disorder): body language signs during the Scriptorium quest: he paced nervously in circles, eyes glued to the floor. Though he can’t make accurate eye contact because he’s blind, he usually turns his face toward whoever is speaking. However, when he lost control at the Scriptorium door, he didn’t focus on anyone. He kept bringing his hands near his mouth and nose throughout the quest, fidgeting with his fingers in a self-soothing gesture. His voice cracked as he begged them to stop, visibly distressed and in rising panic.

Fandom whisper: “He’s a cinnamon roll… unless you're Duncan. Then, run. He’s entering berserker mode”

🔴 MORALLY RED: Ranrok

He presents himself as justice for the oppressed (vengeance masked as revolution), but his true drive is fuelled by hatred, bent on domination and destruction. He is the very definition of "the ends justify the means".

🧠 Ranrok's Neurodivergent & Personality SPECULATIVE profiles:

- ASPD (Antisocial Personality Disorder): a trauma-driven sociopath with psychopathic traits.

- Paranoid Delusional traits.

- Complex Trauma Response (identity-based).

Fandom whisper: “He had a point... until he started incinerating everyone”

🔵 MORALLY BLUE: Solomon Sallow

He is the tragic disciplinarian, a man who outwardly upholds order, sacrifice, and tough love. Beneath he does care deeply, but his affection is buried under control disguised as protection. He relies on cold rationalism and mistakes emotional distance for maturity.

Rebellion (especially from Sebastian), isn’t seen as a cry for help, but as a threat to the fragile order he clings to.

🧠 Solomon's Neurodivergent & Personality SPECULATIVE profiles:

- OCPD (Obsessive-Compulsive Personality Disorder).

- Possible CPTSD? (Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder).

Fandom whisper: “He gave up on the cure but became another symptom”

🟣 MORALLY PURPLE (deluxe): Phineas Nigellus Black

He's a pragmatic loyalist. His surface morality is conservative and defined by complex loyalty. He is a cunning strategist who carefully navigates social and political webs with subtlety and precision.

Beneath this façade lies his true morality: driven by self-interest and elegant manipulation, he never dirties his own hands. His ruthless pragmatism means his decisions are cold and calculated when necessary. Arrogant and elitist, Phineas is too proud to care about anything outside his own priorities. He values bloodline and power far above personal relationships or moral ideals.

He embodies the grey areas between loyalty and self-interest and pride (a man who probably polishes his Slytherin badge daily). His sharp remarks may sound cruel, but they come from a desire to assert control rather than a need to hurt (manipulative, yes, but not cruel for the sake of it).

🧠 Phineas' Neurodivergent & Personality SPECULATIVE profiles:

- NPD (Narcissistic Personality Disorder).

- Giftedness with Social Detachment (non-clinical trait).

- Mild Machiavellianism? (strategic manipulation, not cruelty).

Fandom whisper: “No need to raise his voice, only his eyebrow. Evil, a misunderstood genius or just insufferable?”

🟡 MORALLY YELLOW: Duncan

He’s cautious and self-protective, often avoiding confrontation or risky situations. He tends to stay in the background and prefers others (like MC) to take the lead or face challenges, while he seeks approval to cope with his insecurities and fear of being singled out. He never takes risks and opts to stay uninvolved, seeking validation from others to compensate for his lack of self-worth, partly driven by fear and insecurity.

Introverted and socially awkward, Duncan experiences bullying and exclusion, which makes him hesitant to assert himself or confront others directly.

🧠 Duncan's Neurodivergent & Personality SPECULATIVE profiles:

- SAD (Social Anxiety Disorder): evident in his intense fear of social situations and tendency to avoid attention or judgment from others.

- Specific Phobia (Puffskeins): irrational fear of puffskeins after a traumatic incident where one stuck its tongue up his nose. He has been unable to overcome despite efforts from friends like Poppy.

- ASD? (Autism Spectrum Disorder, Level 1): more evident in his social reservation and avoidance than in sensory or communication issues.

Fandom whisper: “Wants to be remembered. Not involved... just remembered. Not a villain. Not a hero. Just… there”

🩷 MORALLY PINK: Garreth Weasley

Pink, but only after 3 butterbeers and a terrible idea (don’t trust his decisions -or his potion skills- after drink #2).

🧠 Garreth's Neurodivergent & Personality SPECULATIVE profiles:

- ADHD (Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder), Combined type.

- Risk-Seeking behaviour (non-pathological).

- Mild Oppositional Defiant traits (playful, not hostile).

(Sorry, I’m just too drained right now, so I’m leaving Garreth to you 😉).

[ps-cactus]

🌈️ Hogwarts Legacy Pride Week: Day Four!

Prompt: Crossover

"Rogue Ones, Found"

[ AO3 Link ]

Synopsis: Cassian Andor died for the Rebellion… or so he thought. Now, in a world far from any star he's ever known, he and his partner, Jyn, are faced with two teenage boys who, oddly enough, remind them a little too much of themselves. What could possibly go wrong?

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 1933

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Male MC (Damien Evans), Cassian Andor & Jyn Erso (from Rogue One)

Tags: POV Cassian Andor, Crossover, Cassian Andor and Jyn Erso Live, Hogwarts, Banter, Humor, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Protective Sebastian Sallow, Protective Cassian Andor, Hurt Cassian Andor, Arguing, Chaos

Author's Note: While writing this one shot I realized that Jyn and Cassian have a very similar dynamic to Sebastian and Damien, so I, uh, leaned into that, obviously. As one would. LMAO.

@hogwartslegacyprideweek

Cassian Andor and Jyn Erso were still locked in their final embrace when something very strange occurred. One moment, they were literally on fire, engulfed in the scorching flames of a massive explosion on the beach of Scarif, the world crumbling around them. The next, Cassian felt a cool breeze ruffling his tangled mess of hair as a surreal calm settled in.

Kriffing hell, could this… could this be the afterlife?

Cassian was about to open his eyes when he heard a strangled shout.

"You're not D…" The voice trailed off, then said, "What are you two doing Apparating on my picnic blanket?"

Picnic blanket? Appa—what? Jyn's tight grip loosened on Cassian's shoulders. She was… laughing. And, apparently, so was he. They both collapsed to the ground, completely overcome. Who knew death could be so hilarious? 

Well, Cassian's eyes were open now. Amidst his guffaws, he somehow managed to process their location and the idyllic scene before them: a brisk day, a green mound of grass—a hill, definitely—flowers to the right of them, budding trees to the left, and a scratchy blue and bronze blanket under his very bloody knees. 

Ah yes, and Cassian's back and leg were still fucked. Very, very fucked. 

The voice spoke again. "Is this some sort of joke?" it said, sounding extremely out of sorts. 

Luckily for Cassian (and Jyn, he supposed), it quickly became apparent that the person speaking was a teenage boy, drowning in freckles. He was also quite short, at least in Cassian's estimation. If the boy attacked them—it was always a possibility, at least in his unfortunate experience—Cassian and Jyn could dispatch him easily, especially together. The boy looked laughably harmless. He was even holding a wooden stick in his right hand for some inexplicable reason. But you never knew. Appearances could be deceiving.

Another wave of laughter hit Cassian like a blaster bolt to the chest. Speaking of blasters… Cassian patted his side. Yes, he still had his blaster on him. He let out a slow exhale, his shoulders loosening a fractional amount despite the aching pain that radiated through every nook and cranny of his body, from the top of his head all the way down to his toes. Would he be able to stand in his current state? Debatable. And what about Jyn?

Out of the corner of his eye he observed Jyn laying on her back, clutching at her stomach, taking huge gulps of breath, likely trying to calm herself. Her laughter had died down, but every so often a soft chuckle escaped her lips. 

Cassian realized he was still laughing too. He needed to stop. They couldn't both be completely useless in a potential fight, even if he was correct and the boy had more bark than bite. 

Jyn mumbled something that Cassian didn't quite catch. 

"What?" he said, completely ignoring the teenage boy's earlier question—something or other about whether or not this was a joke.

"We're alive," Jyn rasped, while the boy huffed indignantly above them. His hands rested on his hips as he glared, a murderous glint in his eye. He looked like an angry Ewok. Less hairy though. 

"Is someone going to explain what's going on?" the boy asked. 

"I don't know, kid," Cassian replied. "We're as in the dark as you."

"You're the ones who Apparated here! Are you telling me you didn't know where you were headed?" He stomped forward. "You didn't visualize this location?" 

Cassian shrugged. There was that strange word again. Apparate. He debated asking what it meant, but ultimately decided against it as the boy's cheeks had flushed a brilliant red. Rage, most likely. He certainly didn't seem embarrassed.

Jyn eased up from the ground and completed her own careful inspection of their surroundings. As she did so, she drew her hair up in a small bun at the back of her head. Neat, out of the way. Good, they might need to make a run for it. If Cassian could run. 

He rose up, slowly, stifling a groan. Well, he'd definitely been in better shape, but at least he could stand. He took a small step forward with his injured leg. Shit. It was definitely broken. That wasn't good news. He may need to reconsider his response to the situation. 

As Cassian considered their other options, Jyn worrying away at the kyber crystal necklace around her neck—which Cassian assumed was a nervous tic of sorts—another teenage boy appeared, strolling down the hill directly ahead of them. 

"Sebastian?" he called out. He was larger—taller, too—with long blond hair tied back in a low bun, identical to the style Jyn arranged her own hair into mere moments before. Cassian blinked a few times, then shook his head.

So, the first boy's name was Sebastian. A good, strong name. Cassian could appreciate a name that ended in -ian. For obvious reasons.

"Damien!" 

Jyn snorted. "Sebastian and Damien," she said through a laugh. "Both your names rhyme. How sweet." The sarcasm was hard to miss, unlike a stormtrooper's aim. 

Cassian waved his arms at her, hoping the implication was clear: Be more discreet, dammit! It would be just their luck that Jyn's sharp tongue would get them in trouble. And anyway, couldn't she tell he was still attempting to assess the situation? It wasn't the best idea to anger the strange new kids, which was seemingly what she was doing.  

Kriff, was she doing it deliberately? He sighed as he raked a hand through his hair. He wouldn’t put it past her.

On any other day, Cassian could appreciate the snark, but not today, not after whatever they'd just been through. For the love of the Force, he was still recovering from nearly being blasted into stardust. Quite literally. 

Although he supposed he'd been through worse. Much, much worse. In fact, Cassian still winced whenever he caught someone mutter the words "on program." He was honestly shocked by how often it came up in daily conversation. 

Cassian clenched his jaw. He flinched as Jyn spoke again, this time addressing the boys. Unfortunately, she also had her blaster pointed directly at them. That didn't bode well. 

"Where are we?" she asked, her eyes narrowed. 

Sebastian and Damien just stood there, blinking back at her. They didn't look frightened at all.

Damien raised an eyebrow. "What's that?" he said, pointing at her blaster. 

Didn't he know what a blaster was? Either he was extremely dumb or Cassian and Jyn had ended up on some outer rim planet that hadn't reached the same technological prowess of the rest of the Empire. Perhaps a planet similar to Kenari, pre-Imperial invasion? It certainly seemed idyllic enough, especially with what Cassian just noticed seemed to be a castle in the distance. 

Well, wherever they were, he needed to do something. Immediately. 

Cassian stepped forward, blocking Jyn's sight line. "Nothing," he said. "If you don't mind, we'll be on our way."

Jyn mumbled something under her breath, but slipped her blaster back in its holster. Cassian wished he felt even an inkling of relief, but he definitely didn't. He may not have known Jyn all that long, but he already knew that that had been far too easy. 

Damien didn't seem convinced by Cassian's answer or Jyn's deescalation, but he didn't press further. Sebastian, unfortunately, had other ideas. He leaped forward, the stick in his hand outstretched, pointing it menacingly at Jyn. 

"That didn't look like 'nothing'!" he hissed. "Who are you people and why are you interrupting our picnic?" 

Damien threw out a hand, grabbed Sebastian by the shoulder, and yanked him back. 

Cassian sighed, again. Sebastian was far too much like Jyn. Argumentative, quick-tempered, too curious for his (their) own good. But at least Damien was acting appropriately. 

Jyn leaped forward. Cassian blocked her again, taking a page out of Damien's holonovel by making steady contact with her shoulders and shoving her back. "Don't," he hissed as she scowled at him. "Let me handle it."

Damien nodded at him approvingly. The two sensible males exchanged a look of exasperation. It was nice to know that at least one of the boys understood, and presumably, could be reasoned with. 

Did either of their two mischievous partners listen though? 

… No. They did not. 

Jyn squirmed and ducked, escaping from his grip, which, Cassian admitted to himself was somewhat hindered by the horrific pain still lancing through his body, while Sebastian did exactly the same, barrel rolling out of Damien's embrace and pulling out his stick, which he trained once more on Jyn as he shouted out some unrecognizable word, only for Jyn to immediately freeze in place. 

Wait. Wait one kriffing moment! 

Jyn was frozen in place.

"Jyn!" Cassian yelled, blaster in hand. Arming himself was so instinctual that he didn't even realize he had the blaster out until he glanced down. 

Damien spun on him, pulling out a stick very similar to Sebastian's, although it had a different design. Sebastian's was checkered, and Damien's was covered in what appeared to be a trail of... vines? 

Sebastian's stick had done something to Jyn! What were these powerful objects? Could they be imbued with the Force somehow? Was Jyn alright? Was there a way to counteract whatever Sebastian had done to her? 

"Why did you do that?" Damien barked at Sebastian, flicking his strange stick. There was no mistaking it; Damien was angry, and the look in his eyes was far more menacing than Sebastian's earlier expression. 

But! Jyn was suddenly returning back to life—thank the Force—although she was clearly disoriented. Cassian wasn't sure what to do. Sebastian had been the aggressor, but Damien had reversed whatever he'd done. Jyn seemed uncertain about how to respond as well. She still had her blaster out, but it was pointed down, and her hand was uncharacteristically shaking. 

It was a good thing Damien and Sebastian were currently distracted. In fact, they were arguing now ("I was trying to protect you!" "I don't need protecting!" "Right. Next time I'll let you handle it." "That's what I'm saying!" "That was sarcasm!" "I know! I'm not an idiot!"). 

Cassian and Jyn exchanged a glance with each other, assessing the situation through each others' eyes. Situation assessed, they nodded at each other, then… bolted. 

There was a lot more arguing as they ran off to who knew where. Unusual, really, but Cassian and Jyn didn't know that. 

("Look what you did! They're gone now!" "That's your fault! Don't you even think about blaming me!")

Well, no matter. Cassian and Jyn did not hear the rest of Sebastian and Damien's heated conversation, since they were too busy running away, but it went a little something like this:

"Wait," Damien said, his eyes narrowed. "Isn't their leaving a good thing?" 

"Oh," Sebastian replied, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I suppose you're right. Although—"

"We never found out who they were, did we?" 

"Correct." 

"Do you think they're going to be a problem?" 

Sebastian shrugged. "Who knows? If they are, they're not our problem."

(Cassian would have agreed, if he had still been there.) 

"Back to our picnic then?" 

"Yes, splendid!"

Damien clapped his hands and skipped over to the picnic blanket, plopping down with a grin. "What's for lunch?"

Sebastian dropped down beside him, pecked his cheek, murmured, "Marmalade sandwiches, but you're the appetizer," then tackled his partner to the ground with roguish delight, all thoughts of their earlier visitors gone in a flash. 

Rogue ones, lost? Oh yes, most certainly. But also: rogue ones, found.

[ps-cactus]

hogwarts legacy pride week: die mad about it

greetings, this is quick lee. I've seen that my pals and comrades have been brigaded by sad, pathetic people who refuse to get off their high horses. so, let me clear a few things up and give some reminders.

(1) Liking a piece of media should NOT be construed as support of the author.

Because it's simply not the same thing. I don't know how to break this down any further. It's called having nuance and critical literacy skills. This is not even in defense of the "problematic fave". JKR is no one's fave. but there are some good things you can come away from her literature with. and if you're too narrow-minded to admit that, then… have fun censoring and killing literature lol.

(2) Chasing queer people out of the HP/HL fandom is quite literally what JKR wants.

You're doing her dirty work for her. Please read this post by another tumblr user for more. Without any queer people in the HP fandom who are willing to interrogate the text and sit with the uncomfortableness of the literature, JKR will be allowed to continue her reign of terror. It is only by starting the difficult conversations and acknowledging that JKR is, in fact, an asshat, that we can create a fandom that hates the hell out of her and reclaims the world for our own use. Some of us are unwilling to see the world die a horrid death because its creator is awful.

This video by hbomberguy delves into adapting H.P. Lovecraft for the 21st century. I feel that a lot of this video can be applied to Harry Potter and JKR. I implore you to give it a watch and let me know what you come away with.

You know who you should be railing against? The literal bigots in this fandom. There's a lot of them; I've seen them. Instead of kicking the queer fans out, how about you chase the anti-trans and anti-queer people? They aren't quiet about it.

(3) caring about JKR is a rather Western perspective.

Yes, JKR is doing real harm with her legislation. Your average US/UK queer fan is aware of this. Guess what? You can hold more than one thing in your head at the same time! Wild, I know. See point 1.

But, a lot of countries outside the US or the UK don't give a shit who she is or know much about her bigotry because it doesn't affect them or they don't speak English or they don't know. It reeks of r/USdefaultism energy to assume everyone knows what you know and everyone should do what you do. News flash, anyone outside of the US/UK can't do shit about what JKR's doing. Why the fuck are you stopping them from FREELY (read: without profiting JKR) interacting with the intellectual property (IP)? Do you realize what a waste of time this is? If you're recycling tired talking points and you don't live in the US/UK… dude, go find better use of your time.

(4) Creating fanwork does not equal "promoting" the game.

Many people read fanfic or look at fanart/edits instead of interacting with the canon work. There is an assumption that seeking fanwork means they will seek out the original media as well. This is not the case, a lot of the time, and no one considers fanwork promotion of the original text. Fanwork is inherently derivative, and both the creator and consumer is aware of that.

My friends and I frequently shit-talk the game. But the blandness of the plot and the characters is what makes a great canvas to impart our own perspectives, ideas, goals. The rules of the world are malleable in the best way. Same with the original Harry Potter world as well. It's a blank canvas, and that means it has great potential to be molded into whatever anyone wants. We have the right to take what we want to keep from JKR's IP. Again, see the hbomberguy video for more on this point.

Not to mention, Harry Potter has been a mainstay in Western media (and even non-Western media) for decades. I promise you that our fanwork is not convincing anyone to go out and buy the game.

(5) Yes, the game was financially backed by JKR and she receives royalties from it. No one is denying this fact.

However, there are literally thousands of other people involved in this game that have explicitly stood against JKR's bigotry, and they deserve to have their work celebrated too. Not to mention, a lot of people pirated this game, or bought it secondhand, or waited for the sale, or donated an equal amount to a queer nonprofit. Before you disparage a queer fan for engaging in the world of HP, please ask yourself… what have you done as far as real activism or praxis?

Most fans don't buy anything HP other than this game. In fact, I have said in the past and will continue to say: we don't need to be buying that shit any more. Merch? Books? Other random knickknacks and memorabilia? Don't need it, useless consumerism anyway. But interacting with the IP for free is a whole different thing. You just know it makes JKR mad that a bunch of queers are twisting her work into something better. Enjoy it, lads.

End of the day, you can be a fan of HP IP without putting a single cent into JKR's pocket, or little cents as possible. If at least you are aware of this fact, then move on. There's bigger fish to fry.

(6) Listen, I don't agree with the Bible on a lot, but I like a few of the lines on hypocrisy.

Matthew 7:3–5, NIV:

“Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye."

John 8:4–9, NIV:

…and said to Jesus, “Teacher, this woman was caught in the act of adultery. In the Law Moses commanded us to stone such women. Now what do you say?” They were using this question as a trap, in order to have a basis for accusing him. But Jesus bent down and started to write on the ground with his finger. When they kept on questioning him, he straightened up and said to them, “Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” Again he stooped down and wrote on the ground. At this, those who heard began to go away one at a time, the older ones first, until only Jesus was left, with the woman still standing there.

I am sure you are actively supporting a shitty person by using social media, or listening to music, or participating in organized religion. Trying to play the Morality Olympics with some hobbyists who want to queer up HP IP as much as possible… is a waste of goddamn time. No one gives a shit that you attacked some queer people. Fat lot of good you've done. Get off your high horse before you are flung off.

Quit being an armchair activist. Go outside and interact with some real life people. Like it or not, Harry Potter is a part of the international lexicon. It's baked into our society. Do you want the fandom to be an accepting community, or do you want to actively usher in yet another un-safe space?

I understand that in the world it is a difficult time right now. A lot of people feel powerless in the face of such outright fascism rearing its head. To the queer people out there, let me remind you—attacking your fellow queers is not the right move. This is what the oppressors want, for us to fight each other instead of collaborating and unifying. You should be directing your energy to assisting your local community, starting conversations about trans rights, standing up for your local trans members, and participating in praxis. If you feel so strongly about this topic, good! I'm glad you feel that way. Go donate your time or resources to a nonprofit—they need your support. Go to protest or riot. Start a coalition. Why tear down a thriving community when you can build up your own?

There is no shame in stepping away from HP because JKR's real life words are too vile for you to consider. But there's also no shame in sticking around in an act of reclamation or spite.

To the queer HL community; thanks for being you. Thank you for having the tough conversations. Thank you for making space. Thank you for being nuanced. Keep up the good work. You're one cool cat.

I'll leave you with some links to nonprofits and organizations that make an actual difference.

Stonewall (public policy campaigns, UK)

Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays (PFLAG) (LGBTQ advocacy, USA)

The Trevor Project (youth suicide prevention, USA)

Queerwell (queer mental health and wellness, UK)

PFLAG KOREA

Trans Liberation Front (트랜스해방전선)

Solidarity for LGBT Human Rights of Korea (행동하는성소수자인권연대)

Beyond the Rainbow Foundation (BRF: 비온뒤무지개재단)

KQTx (Korean Queer & Trans National Network) (Korean American queer community)

If you live in the North Carolina area, here are some local links.

One Voice Chorus

Time Out Youth

PFLAG CHARLOTTE

Equality North Carolina Foundation

The Plus Collective

RAIN

[ps-cactus]

🌈️ Hogwarts Legacy Pride Week: Day Three!

Prompt: Friendship

"I Get By with a Little Help from My Friends"

[ AO3 Link ]

Synopsis: Sometimes all it takes is a little help from your friends to get you out of a sticky, relic-induced mess. Or into one. Either way, Sebastian's friends mean well. (Probably.)

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 3461

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Male MC (Damien Evans)

Tags: POV Sebastian Sallow; Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence; In the Shadow of the Relic Quest; Timeline Shenanigans; Bisexual Sebastian Sallow; Pining Sebastian Sallow; Sebastian Sallow Is Bad at Feelings; Crush at First Sight; Friendship; Developing Friendship; Humor; Banter; Short Sebastian Sallow (yeah, I made it a tag; you're welcome)

Author's Note: I wrote this one shot eons ago, and it has gone through a fair few iterations (LOL). Thank you to the HLMCU for their patience and for letting me borrow their MCs again. Y'all are the best. Love ya! ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

Sebastian Sallow had gone quite barmy.

Not that he knew it. 

Yet.

But the more he shook the damned relic in his hand, which didn't seem to be doing anything at all, the angrier he became. 

Well, at least Anne was here. Although, to Sebastian's great frustration, so was Ominis, since he'd been lurking in the shadows, as he was so often wont to do. Never mind that Sebastian had to incapacitate them both. Cheers to Petrificus Totalus for that. At least something proved useful. 

"So, did you have a plan here, Sebastian, or what?" That was Adelia, naturally. Sebastian and Adelia butted heads a lot. Today was no exception. 

"Right?" said Jane, standing to the right of her. Jane and Adelia were, to put it kindly, the most unhinged of his friends, so, naturally, they tended to band together when it came to teasing him. "He clearly has no idea what that thing does." 

Sebastian could clap back too, though. "Would you two shut it?" he snapped. He was trying to think. If only he had lost them before he reached the catacomb. But he hadn't. So, here they were. 

And so was literally everyone else—because, of course, Alyn, Cal, Theo, Val, and Ale had also decided that sticking their noses in other peoples' business was a brilliant idea. Having so many friends was great and all, but it also had its downsides. Three heads were better than one, sure. But eight? Eight was just ridiculous. 

Friends, ugh!

So much for being stealthy. So much for getting this done quickly and pulling the wool over everyone else's eyes. So much for all of Sebastian's sly planning.

Merlin's beard, the Sorting Hat must have been having a laugh when it placed him in Slytherin, for cunning, he was, apparently, not. 

"Have you tried, I don't know, setting the relic on fire?" Cal suggested, ever so helpfully, with a casual shrug. 

Sebastian glared. "As much as I enjoy the concept of fire, and all of the spells that conjure it, I'm not convinced that's the best method of approach."

"I was just throwing it out there." Cal sidled over to the cavern wall, then slid down it in a leisurely way, crossing his legs when he reached the bottom, looking far too relaxed. 

Sebastian would have laughed if he hadn't been so damn frustrated. The relic was supposed to be the answer to curing Anne! So why did it seem so worthless?

It certainly looked powerful enough—its jagged triangular shape, ominous red glow, and human skeleton design practically screamed Dark Magic.   

And yet here he was. In a dark, damp catacomb. Holding the blasted thing aloft in the air. And nothing. 

Sebastian had had enough. With great aplomb, he chucked the relic at the ground. 

There! The relic deserved it. 

Val and Ale flinched at his sudden movement, while Alyn and Theo let out a pair of perfectly synchronized yelps.

"Whoa," Adelia said, stepping forward. "That was… dramatic of you. I suppose I'm not surprised."

Sebastian dropped to his knees in the dirt and groaned. "Not now, Adelia." Head in hands, he tugged at his hair. What next? Surely this wasn't his last option. Surely there was another way. Anne had to be well. She simply had to be. Sebastian would make it so. 

"Everyone, look!" Theo whispered. He sounded oddly concerned. 

Sebastian's head shot back up. 

The relic was trembling. And glowing much brighter than before. 

Jane, who had been closest to its new position on the ground, took a quick step back, then said, "Should we, erm, do something about that?" 

Sebastian locked eyes with Adelia. 

"What are you looking at me for?" she asked. 

"You're the one who takes the most risks of all of us," Cal answered for Sebastian. He rose from the floor and strode toward the relic. He leaned down to peer at it, then leaped back when it let out a hiss reminiscent of a steaming teapot. 

"Yeah, Adelia, I'm gonna let you sort that out," he said as he made his retreat.

But, as it turned out, there was no time, for a heartbeat later the relic exploded in a blinding flash of light. 

//

Sebastian awoke to screaming. Lots and lots of screaming. So, uh, that wasn't ideal. 

And what was that smell? An acrid heat snaked its way through his nostrils… Oh. Fire. He knew that scent all too well.  

The air was too thick, choking. His eyes watered, blurring his vision, and he couldn't see anything past his own hands, which he had extended before him, fumbling for his wand. Ah—there. He clasped it like his very life depended on it. Which it probably did. 

Sebastian's head throbbed, and something warm trickled down his face. Blood, mostly likely. But he had little time to dwell on it, too focused on steadying himself and reclaiming his bearings. 

Someone was shouting in a different language. Hm, it sounded vaguely Latin-inspired. Italian, perhaps? Sebastian wasn't quite certain.

He staggered to his feet, his knees threatening to give way beneath him. Someone grabbed him by the shoulders, righting him. Sebastian swiveled around to find Val. Her blonde hair, tinged faintly pink, was a tangled snarl. Her face was covered in scratches, no doubt sliced by flying debris from the… Explosion. There had been an explosion! "Welcome back to the land of the living," Val said. "Though I might need to revise that statement."

Sebastian blinked. "Meaning what, exactly?" Val didn't have a chance to respond. Before she could get a word in edgewise, an Inferius—of all the damned things!—lurched toward them, growling and hissing, its decaying arms outstretched, reaching for them, a menacing look in its beady black eyes. 

"Incendio!" someone shouted from Sebastian's immediate left. The Inferius burst into flames, only for another to take its place. 

Shit. Now that his eyes had adjusted to the dim, smoke-filled catacomb, he came to a deeply unfortunate realization: it was positively swarming with Inferi. 

More shouting. More spells flying. Sebastian shook his head— ow —and dropped into his usual fighting stance: confident and assured, despite the incessant pounding of his heart and the sharp, needling ache in his skull. First priority: the Inferi. Then he could figure out what in Merlin's name was going on. 

For the next few minutes, survival took precedence over curiosity. He and Val carved through horde after horde, until they finally managed to make a dent in the crowd of undead. Only then did Sebastian risk a glance around the room. 

Half of the people here he did not recognize. At all. 

Well. That was new. 

Perhaps they were people from the nearby hamlet? Yes, that must be it. Until Sebastian noticed one of them—a girl with long, springy golden curls cascading down her back. She raised her wand, and in one fluid motion, she cast a spell. Except it was no ordinary spell. 

Sebastian was familiar with that kind of magic, but he thought it was rare, to a certain extent that is. Not so rare among his friend group, but rare in the greater wizarding world. The unfamiliar girl was using ancient magic, and she pulled a move which Jane and Adelia, who were the two of his friends who used it most often, fondly called an "Ancient Magic Throw." 

And then, another one of the strangers cast the exact same, wordless spell. A handful of Inferi burst into smithereens before Sebastian's very eyes, which were now somehow even wider than before. 

Sebastian's palms grew slick. Was he imagining this? No. No, he wasn't. Val had gone still beside him. She was staring, agog, at the unexpected scene unfolding before them. 

They weren't the only ones.

The fighting had all but stopped. At least for everyone but the newcomers. Jane and Adelia stood off to the side, backs pressed against the wall, panting. Across the room, Alyn and Theo had frozen, Theo holding a vial of Wiggenweld to his lips but not drinking. Cal leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, smirking like this was all some elaborate joke. Beside him, Ale looked as though he wanted to say something; his mouth gaped open until he noticed Sebastian was watching and he snapped it shut.

Val leaned in, whispering something in Sebastian's ear.

"What?" he said, completely missing what she said amidst his confusion and the spells being slung this way and that around them. 

"Who are all these people?" she, allegedly, repeated.

"Haven't the foggiest." 

Sebastian's eye snagged on a tall young man at the back of the room. His blond hair was drawn into a low, twisted bun, more akin to a woman's hairstyle than a man's. He was almost painfully thin for his height, as if he subsisted on nothing but air and water, yet his spellcasting was nothing short of masterful. His wrist-flicks were razor sharp, so precise it cut Sebastian to his core. He needed to duel whoever this stranger was, to see what more he could do. 

But later. Obviously.  

For now, Sebastian could only watch as the young man moved with such elegant grace that, for a moment, it didn't seem like combat at all. It was a dance—an unfamiliar one, sure, but swift and fluid, totally mesmerizing. Sweat poured down the stranger's forehead and into his eyes, but it didn't seem to bother him at all. Not one bit. 

"Sebastian!"

"Sorry, I was…" He hesitated. No way in hell was he admitting that he was distracted. 

Luckily, Val didn't press the issue. 

And then Ominis was bellowing in his face.  "What in Merlin's bloody name were you thinking, Sebastian?"

Ominis shoved him. Hard. Very hard. Sebastian nearly fell backward on his arse, but managed to catch himself. Somehow. Ominis was so much taller than him. Not that now was a great time to dwell on such an infuriating fact. 

"Ow!" 

"You fucking deserved that, and you know it." Ominis clenched his fists at his sides; his face turned a bright tomato red. "How could you? How could you do that to your sister? To me?"

"I was trying to help her," Sebastian shot back, an edge to his tone. Bitter, but also… apologetic? No, not that. Never that. He had nothing to apologize for, after all. 

Speaking of Anne, where was she? 

A spell sliced through the air from behind him. Expelliarmus. 

His wand wrenched from his hand and flew across the room. Sebastian whipped around, his expression darkening.

Who dared strip him of his wand?

Oh. 

It was Anne. 

That… made a lot more sense than he cared to admit. But still. Still.

"Hey! In case you haven't noticed, I was using that." He gestured at the Inferi still swarming the room as another spell whizzed past him, striking down one that had been mere seconds away from pinning him to the ground.

"You're welcome for that," Adelia called over her shoulder as she bolted past him. 

The tall blond boy was now casting alongside another young man with wavy black hair. Their movements were strikingly similar, almost as if they'd spent years dueling together, although Sebastian had the oddest feeling that wasn't actually the case. The dark-haired one was just as graceful, but for some reason, Sebastian couldn't tear his eyes away from the blond. It was utterly perplexing. 

"Watch out!"

The warning came from a girl with short brunette hair, deep shadows under her eyes, and a prominent scar slicing through one of her eyebrows. 

The warning was for him.

Sebastian yelped and ducked to the side, slamming straight into yet another strange girl, this one with dark brown hair and a pale complexion. To his immense surprise, she apologized to him. 

How many girls were in this catacomb? If he were a different young man, there would be far too many girls to choose from. WHOA, don't get there, Sebastian. It wasn't as if they were prostrating themselves at his feet. Although… hm, there was an image. 

But alas, yet another completely different girl snapped him out of his pleasant imaginings, shouting, "Vaffanculo!" 

Oh yes. That was definitely Italian. And Sebastian knew a curse word when he heard one. 

And then the Inferi were on them again. When would this end? And where had the Inferi even come from in the first place? 

Everyone was fighting them now, which was a good thing. And when the last Inferius burst into flames and dissipated into ash at Sebastian's feet, they all paused, breathing hard, forming a giant lumpy oval, gawping at each other in stunned silence.

"Who are all of you?" Jane asked. 

The curly-haired girl raised a perfectly contoured eyebrow. "I could ask the same of you." She turned her nose up, sniffing in indignation.

The girl with the scar spoke next, directing her words at Sebastian, her eyes narrowed. "Did someone cast a Shrinking Charm on you?"

"What?" 

"You're positively miniscule. It suits you." She brought her free hand to her mouth, as if to stifle a laugh, but then seemed to change her mind, dropping her hand back down and letting out a loud, unladylike snort. 

"I am not!" Sebastian shot back, extremely offended. 

Ominis, who Sebastian hadn't realized was still standing nearby, muttered something under his breath. Anne must have heard him because she burst into laughter as well. 

Was everyone out to get Sebastian today? Even his own sister?

The dark-haired girl with the kind eyes cut in: "I really don't think now's the time to be insulting people—"

"I wasn't insulting him! I was just making an observation. It's not my fault that it was funny."

Someone cleared their throat. At first, Sebastian thought it was the blond boy, but then he realized it was, in fact, the other one that had been fighting alongside him. "She has a point. Do you not know who I am?" he asked Sebastian, his brow furrowed. "Obviously not," Sebastian scoffed back. As his dark-haired interrogator stepped back, seemingly affronted by Sebastian's attitude, an unreadable expression crossed the face of the blond boy standing next to him. And yet he still hadn't uttered a word. Sebastian wasn't sure why, but he really wanted to hear his voice. Why wasn't he speaking? 

By then, of course, the Italian girl was muttering obscenities again. All of the strangers had spoken aloud except for the one Sebastian most wanted to speak. Typical. 

You know what, he was going to have to say something, wasn't he? 

"Kneazle got your tongue?" Sebastian said, narrowing his eyes at him. 

The boy brought his hands to his chest, gesturing with a "Who, me?" look on his face. "Yes, you! Are you mute or something?" 

He shrugged. 

Oh, for Merlin's sake!

"Fine, don't talk. There are enough people in this catacomb for me to have conversations with for days."

Well, maybe it turned out that wasn't true. For the moment the last word slipped out of Sebastian's lips, he realized that everyone had broken off into small groups and they were all chattering amongst themselves. He and the blond boy were the odd ones out. 

He glared. 

The blond boy glared back.

"Do you have a name?" Sebastian said, holding back a sigh. 

"Evans. Damien." "He speaks! I'm Sallow—"

"Sebastian," Damien cut in, rendering Sebastian speechless for once. "Sebastian Sallow. I know."

"How? I've never seen you before."

He nodded, frowning. "Yes, I realize that now. I think we might have a problem."

//

It soon became clear that Damien was correct. They had a rather large problem. 

And it was looking like it might very possibly, extremely unfortunately, be Sebastian's fault. But, erm, playing the blame game wasn't ever productive, so it didn't really matter all that much. Or so Sebastian told himself. 

If only the rest of the people in the room thought similarly.

"Sebastian! What is wrong with you?" That was Alyn. She didn't usually yell at Sebastian in such a manner, so it was a tad bit concerning. 

"I didn't know that the relic was going to do whatever it did!" Sebastian yelled back. 

In fact, no one was even sure what had happened. All they knew was that the strange new people had been fighting Inferi—and, to his horror, his uncle—alongside another Sebastian Sallow. Some tall, dark, and handsome imposter, apparently. Something had then yanked them all out of the battle and dumped them unceremoniously into the catacomb with him—the real Sebastian—and all of his fellow… schoolmates. Friends. Loads of them. So many that sometimes he wondered how he'd managed to make so many. 

And hm. It seemed as if Sebastian might also make some new friends out of whatever this was. Some nicer ones even, like Jo. She appeared to be the most friendly of the lot, although it didn't go unnoticed by Sebastian that she stayed as far away from him as physically possible when introductions were being made. 

Perhaps Matty? Although she was acting a bit awkward too, eyeing him quizzically. 

Tori appeared annoyed, although she seemed to have found a friend in Val. They stood shoulder to shoulder whispering something or other to each other. He had a mind to shout at them to share whatever they were saying with the class, but he held his tongue. 

"Sebastian…" 

Sebastian shook himself back to awareness, wincing as he remembered his head still ached horribly. Damien blinked back at him. 

"This is, erm, going to sound strange, seeing as, uh, everyone seems to be cross with you right now—"

"What's new?" Sebastian interrupted. Friends were allowed to be cross with each other. Better that than silence. "Get on with it."

Damien narrowed his eyes. "Forget it." 

Sebastian sighed. Perhaps he should let him speak. At this point, there was nothing he could say that would surprise him any more than he'd already been surprised today. 

"Sorry," he said, rubbing at the back of his neck. "It's been a day." He paused, then added, "As I'm sure you're very aware."

Damien laughed. It startled Sebastian entirely. Not just because he didn't expect it, but also because the timbre of it enchanted him. Too much. Damien's laugh was deep and low, throaty, but also sweet, like clotted cream spread across a piping hot scone, Sebastian's favorite. 

Sebastian had a mind to slap himself. Now was not the time. And anyway, what even was this feeling? He wasn't entirely sure. Whatever it was, he hated it. It made him feel weak, vulnerable. His skin was even tingling! How positively revolting.

"You're different," Damien said, "than my Sebastian, that is. But you have his sense of humor." 

Sebastian's eyebrows raised involuntarily. "Do I?" Why did his voice sound so high-pitched? He coughed, then repeated the question, lower this time. Yes, that was better. Much better.

"Mhm. Anyway, as I was saying, are you alright?" 

Sebastian's jaw nearly dropped to the floor. "Did you hit your head when you fell from…"—DON'T SAY HEAVEN, SEBASTIAN. DON'T YOU DARE SAY IT—"...wherever you came from?" Phew, that was a close call.

Damien laughed. Again. "I did, actually. It hurts rather a lot."

"Oh," Sebastian mumbled, remembering he had a Wiggenweld in his robe. "Here!" Making contact with the vial and pulling it out of his pocket, he thrust it at Damien, shortly before recalling it was the only one he had, and his head hurt too. Oh well, Damien probably needed it more. 

Damien's lips curled up into a shockingly genuine smile. Sebastian noticed he had a dimple. Just one. 

Stop noticing things, Sebastian, he internally screamed at himself. This was stupid. 

"Thanks," Damien said, his eyes sparkling. Golden-brown, deeply hypnotic, absolutely breathtaking. Quite literally. Sebastian was suddenly very light-headed.

Dammit.

"Are you two done?" Cal cut in. "Salazar's beard! You literally just met."

What was Cal insinuating? Never mind, Sebastian still needed to find a cure for Anne, assuming whatever nonsense that occurred with the relic didn't also miraculously heal her in the process. Wouldn't that be quite something though? 

Speaking of the relic, where was it? It must be around here somewhere…

Anyway, Sebastian supposed the more pressing issue was that they needed to figure out what to do with all the new people. How were they going to get everyone back from their place of… origin? From where they… began? From… whence they came? 

This was a fine mess they'd all landed themselves in. Well, there was nothing for it but to set to work. Whatever that entailed. But where to begin? 

He supposed the first step was to gain their trust. Make some new friends. He was good at that for some reason. Friends, then. That was simple enough.  

//

MC tag list: @accio-bagel @girl-named-matty @savingsallow @espressoristretto-patronum @leaping-toadstool-caps @freddiestheproblemchild @ravenwind-75 @ps-cactus

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authors note: hey guys, this one is a little spontaneus but here it is! My entry for the third prompt, found family!

extra mcs belonging to my amazing friends @girl-named-matty @accio-bagel @theladyofshalott1989 @freddiestheproblemchild @ps-cactus @savingsallow @ravenwind-75 @espressoristretto-patronum

"I'm bloody boiled!" James exclaimed, rolling over. He wasn’t sure if the heat that was almost suffocating him was due to the weather or the anticipation of what he was about to do. His head was in Val's lap and she was meticulously applying some sort of diamante gems to the corners of his eyes. 

"Take your jumper off then, idiot" Ellie rolled her eyes, popping a grape in her mouth, grinning in a way which assured James she was teasing. 

"Ah, Ellsie lellsie my dear, if you wanted to see my beautiful arms, all you had to do was ask" James said with a grin, stripping off his jumper (to Val’s protest as the gems hadn’t had time to set yet) and leaving him in a vest shirt. Ellie threw a grape at him. 

James had decided to organise a picnic in an area just off the side of Hogsmeade due to the weather being absolutely beautiful over the past week, a new record for the Scottish Highlands, complete with melted chocolate and crackers, marshmallows and various fruits (organised by Jo due to her better organising skills.)

"Nobody wants to see your noodles, Jamie" Ale helped himself to one of Cal's crackers. James looked scandalised. 

"I'll have you know-" 

"Ladies, please," Tori drawled, a huge grin on her face. "We all know I'm the buffest of them all." 

Sebastian snorted. Tori rolled her eyes, then shot a glance directly at Seb. "You're barely the same height as Poppy's mooncalf, Sallow, your opinion doesn't matter to me." 

Now it was Sebastian's turn to look scandalised. However, instead of making a quip back, he simply crossed his arms and leaned against Damien, who was busy trying to see how many crackers he could build a semi-stable tower with on his knee. 

"Have you tried gluing them with chocolate fondue?" Ale piped up.

 Damien shook his head. "I'm disappointed, Salvatori." 

Ale frowned. "It's a plausible idea!" 

"You're a plausible idea."

"Now that doesn't even make any- ow!" Ale was cut off as Matty prodded his shoulder. 

"Behave yourself, Alejandro." She said firmly with a sigh, and Ale pouted. 

"Yes Mother" he mocked, laying back in the grass and letting Val settle a dandelion crown on his head. 

"You know, guys, we should do this sort of thing more often," Jo said from where she was peacefully braiding daisies into Wren's hair. 

"Agreed." added Cal through a mouthful of olive breadstick, causing Mads to wrinkle up his nose and hand Cal a tissue for the crumbs he was dropping every so often. 

Cal then called out, “Oi, join the party, nerds!”

Theo and Ren looked up from where they were annotating books together, Ren with a scowl on his face, Theo with a sheepish smile and a murmured apology.

“Leave them be, it’s a miracle Blondie showed up anyway,” James grinned, only to immediately hold his hands up in surrender when Ren shot him a death glare. 

“Oh, crap, I almost forgot!” James stood up as if he was about to make a speech, and Ren tapped his palm to his forehead with a muttered ‘idiot’. 

“I organised-” James cut off with Matty’s Jo, “we organised today for a reason, guys.” 

“So it wasn’t just an excuse for you to stuff your face?” Tori called out, to which everyone laughed. 

“I can’t believe you guys aren’t taking this seriously.” James frowned, fighting back a smile. He huffed, then moved to where Ren was sitting on the picnic blanket. Ren raised an eyebrow warily, to which James let out a soft huff of laughter. 

“Florence Janel Chateaux,” James grinned, kneeling Dramatically in front of Ren. “Uhhhh…” 

Great. Perfect time for his mind to go blank. Alyn held up her thumbs in a show of support. 

“Oh, right. Ren. Will you…” he held out a cute little box, “be my boyfriend?” 

Ren’s mouth was slightly open in awe, his eyes shining with something that looked suspiciously like unshed tears. He immediately launched himself into James’ arms, setting his elegant fingers on James’ face and kissing him, hard. A loud cheer erupted from everyone watching, and Ale let out a wolf whistle. 

“Well,” James murmured with a grin, out of breath. “That went better than I expected.” 

hope you enjoyed my silly lil ficlet! i also hope all of this is in character!

[ps-cactus]

On AO3!

Title: You'll be in my heart

Relationship: Tori Lewis x Poppy Sweeting

Summary: 'She has expected anything, from a trap to a distressed beast.

Anything but a baby.'

AKA

The story of how Tori and Poppy become accidental parents of a little boy

Theme song: You'll be in my heart by Phil Collins

Thank you @celestial--sapphic for beta-reading it! ❤️

@hogwartslegacyprideweek

[ps-cactus]

Pride Week: Modern AU

Sam's grid features my girl Ellie (third row center) and his sister Abby (bottom left)

Garreth's features one of his brothers, William (second row center) and Ellie (bottom left)

as you can see, they have very different social media habits 😆 Sam is more reserved and it generally doesn't occur to him to post anything, while Garreth is active and open about his life, especially his obsession with his boyfriend 🧡💙

[ps-cactus]

Happy Pride to the HLMCU Boys! 🏳️‍🌈❤️

Damien @theladyofshalott1989, James @leaping-toadstool-caps, Ale @savingsallow & Cal by me.