#I’m sure my ancestors are proud of me

[trashiemaxxie]

Me when the autism makes me fluent in Nadsat but not in my own goddamn native language

[rosie-dear-rosie]

I love the subtle nods to Italian American struggle in Goncharov. My father told me how when he grew up (right around the time of the film’s release) he wasn’t really considered truly white but “ethnic white” and Goncharov does such a good job of balancing the privilege of being white with the subtle discrimination faced by Italians at the time.

When Andrey wants to go to Sicily, Goncharov has to tell him the hard truth that they can’t. Not just because of what happened with Joe but because they’re not really Italians. At least not according to the standards of the motherland.

For those who don’t know in Italian American culture there is a big stigma against being a “Americano” (pronounced “Medigan”(no seriously look it up)). When you’re a Medigan it means you’re either American or you’re and Italian who’s lost their roots. There’s a whole song about it. So if Andrey and Goncharov go to Sicily they will be outcasts for being American, but when they remain in America they are called slurs like “greaseball”, “Dago”, and “wop”. So they’re stuck in a sort of limbo, not quite Italian enough but not quite American enough either. This theme also has narrative harmony with the bisexual subtext of the film and it’s main character.

Overall It’s definitely a little dated in some areas, particularly in its treatment of Sofia(will never forgive them for the boat scene, fucking disgusting). However it has a surprisingly nuanced take on the ever changing concept of Italians.

[starlooove]

No bc the more and more I think about Bruce quest I’m just embarrassed at how tim stans took it bc that’s literally tim being his worst self and thinking that since he knows he’s in a bad state he’s accommodating for it (he’s absolutely fuckin not) and keeping so many of his thoughts and feelings on hold that he’s like “hey ✋🏾😄” and nothing else when he sees his dead best friend he tried to clone hundreds of times in front of him. And it’s also that people ignore the sheer desperation of that journey because they want him to be a misunderstood genius in the weirdest way like that journey was not about getting Bruce back it was about PROVING that Bruce could be brought back and the futility of it on paper along with tim KNOWING he’s right (but also he HAS been grieving and the league IS manipulative and who’s he to say he’s better or smarter than the whole Justice league?) is what makes it so gut wrenching because he’s not bringing his dad back hes proving there’s a sliver of a chance he CAN be brought back (which the JL took care of I cannot emphasize enough that tim was just basically gathering info here). And it’s insane to me because that is vastly more interesting than “everyone called tim crazy even though he’s the only one who had hope in Bruce and he had to go bring him back all by himself” like whatever

[strawbebyjam]

ok but the more i think abt it. the more i realize i would fully thrive living on a little farm

[glitterhoof]

fighting the war on jaded pokémon fans on the side of jaded pokémon fans

[raeathnos]

.

[topazias]

the c in NRC stands for cat

synopsis: in which heartslabyul deals with a cat loving no-magic having ramshackle prefect. (headcanons) gn!yuu

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

when he saw you clinging to the raccoon-cat-thing at the entrance ceremony, he did not know how to react.

normal people would panic. normal people would avoid a fire-breathing monster-cat-whatever that was spewing absolute nonsense.

apparently not you, though. although, one could say you already aren’t normal, considering the lack of magic. it wasn’t just not that much potential, you were basically in the negatives.

anyways, cats.

he got a peek under your ceremonial robes, and you were wearing..

a pajama shirt with a cat print on it. it looked horrendous.

riddle himself grew up with.. well, a cat. beastperson. so he probably would only have a surface level of appreciation for their greatness.

6/10 for cat lovers, i guess. he wouldn’t really mind, but he’d think it a tad strange. lower points because it took him a while to finally start letting grim into areas of festivity. 

TREY CLOVER

this guy has siblings. like, siblings siblings. he’s used to being around people with strange interests (his brother tried to feed him a live insect once. not fun).

so, i’m sure he appreciates that your interests are on the much safer side of the wide, wide spectrum. 

except when the two of you hang out while he’s baking and suddenly ace and deuce are complaining about cat hair in their tarts.

please do not bring your cats in the kitchen, thank you very much.

he’d feed your cat(s)! very sweet guy.

8/10 for cat lovers! good ascend from riddles, except two points taken from him because one, the Cat™ isn’t allowed in the kitchen and two, he just seems like a dog person to me.

CATER DIAMOND

please do not turn the great grim into a marketable plushie.

cater.

just kidding, he wouldn’t do that.

or would he?

i think he’d be a good cat co-parent! just like trey, i think he’d feed your cat when you can’t, he’d catsit while you’re in class.. etc, etc.

mostly because the posts he makes of your cat blow up, but also because he likes your cat!

the level fluctuates depending if this cat is grim or not. please do not ask me why.

8/10 for cat lovers! not bad, not bad at all! except, now there’s merch of grim- and while he’s proud of himself (this is only to be expected for the great grim! according to him), you just wish you got some of the revenue.

ACE TRAPPOLA

no.

just, no.

i think he’d look at a cat litter and go, “what’s that?”. maybe he’d even try to sniff it.

gives off grew up with a dog vibes, i don’t know why.

he goes like “EUGH” when he finds cat hair in the food you made for him.

you felt kinda bad, but he ate it anyways while complaining. you were pretty conflicted.

he’d be.. i don’t know. unremarkable. not that good, though.

5/10 for the cat lovers. no comment. this gremlin, i swear.

DEUCE SPADE

he LITERALLY isn’t any better than ace.

maybe he used to feed some of the stray cats on the way home from school when he was in elementary, but that’s probably the extent of his experience.

will also complain about cat hair. politely.

“uhm.. i think grims hair is in my soup?” kind of polite. except he’s grimacing and staring at grim like the cat just insulted his mother and all his ancestors.

he will also sniff your cat litter. and grim will laugh in the heartslabyul first year duo’s faces.

thanks, grim.

5/10 for the cat lovers.. again. he’s really just the same. he’d probably be nicer than ace, but the latter just has more experience with pets. probably. hopefully.

special guest, IDIA SHROUD!

do i even need to say anything?

you two have matching cat print pajamas. ortho would cry tears of joy if he could.

you bring your cats to ignihyde and you all hang out. <3

you, idia, and your 23 cats. it really is the life.

he paid you in genesis crystals for permission to pat one of your cats on the head.

you two have a cat lovers gc where you just send cat pictures and talk about your cats, very fun.

10/10 for cat lovers!  first ever 10/10, and it’s from idia shroud? riddle is seething. great cat parent! though, he’s a bit attached. it’s okay, though, he buys your cats toys.

[ludibriadormonoteista]

Slay the Dragon

Papa Arc: Son… The time has come. The infamous Yellow Dragon has been terrorizing our village for far too long.

Jaune: I hear you, father. I have been training my whole life for this.

Papa Arc: Indeed, you have. Take the family sword. You shall honor the oath you took and slay that foul creature.

Jaune: I will see that it is done, father. *Takes his leave*

Papa Arc: Now, hold on a minute. *Grabs his shoulder*

Jaune: Yes, father?

Papa Arc: Before you go, I want to make one thing very clear. I said Slay. Not Lay.

Jaune: …Yeah, I got it the first time.

Papa Arc: Slay, son. Not lay, not laid, not bang, not bed, not consummate, not taking her out for dinner. I want you to KILL that dragon.

Jaune: Father, I don’t-

Papa Arc: It’s a giant DRAGON for heaven’s sake. That monster is responsible for wiping out dozens of villages a year and has killed far more people than you will ever meet in your entire life. So PLEASE! Don’t waste your breath trying to woo that blasted creature!

Jaune: Dad, I’m seriously not gonna-

Papa Arc: I cannot stress how much we need that bitch dead, and the very last thing we need is for you to try and stick your dick in it!

Jaune: D-DAD!

Papa Arc: I want you to take this sword and plunge into the beast’s heart! Chop it into pieces if you must! Don’t stop until the life has left its eyes!

Jaune: ALRIGHT, GEESH! *Calms down* For the last time, I’m not gonna seduce the dragon or anything. I don’t even know where you got that idea from.

Papa Arc: I just want to make sure you understand what I’m saying.

Jaune: Father, I’m not one of those dragon-lovin’ degenerates from the southern islands, okay? You don’t have to worry about that.

Papa Arc: Glad to hear it. *Clears throat* Go forward, son. Make your ancestors proud.

Jaune: Yeah, yeah… *Finally leaves*

Papa Arc: Phew! Crisis averted. Ain’t that right, honey?

Mama Arc: It’s not gonna work, Nicky.

Papa Arc: What makes you say that?

Mama Arc: Take a good look. *Shows her dragon tail* I still can’t believe you convinced our son I’m a lizard Faunus.

Papa Arc: So what if I got lucky and got myself a wife because I couldn’t read instructions properly?! I could’ve been killed! I don’t want Jaune to make the same mistake and risk getting scorched to death.

Mama Arc: I don’t know, Taiyang’s spawn did seem very lonely last I checked. And that was 20 years ago.

Papa Arc: Well, then Taiyang’s spawn shall find plenty of companionship in the fiery pits of hell. For our boy Jaune will not rest until the Yellow Dragon’s life has been claimed by the sacred Crocea Mors-

[}}]

Yang: S’up, in-laws! I’ve been meaning to meet you guys. Huge fan of your work here. *Slaps Jaune’s back*

Jaune: *red* Yang, please…

Papa Arc: *Disgruntled noises*

Mama Arc: Oh, you must be our boy’s fiancé he wrote about. Come now sweetie, let me show you around the house.

Yang: You got it, mom! Can’t wait to meet my new sisters. Later, hubby~

Papa Arc: Jaune… What did I tell you?

Jaune: Tell me what?

Papa Arc: The thing we discussed? Before parting on your quest?

Jaune: What thing- Oh. Ooohhh……

Papa Arc: Do you have anything to say for yourself, young man?

Jaune: *Hand on the back of his head* I guess it slipped out of my mind…?

Papa Arc: Oh, something did slip, alright.

Jaune: It-It’s nothing like that! It all happened so fast, and-! Look, she’s on the run from a whole evil cult or some shit and I wondered if you and mom could let her crash here for a few weeks.

Papa Arc: And you didn’t think the neighbors would suspect anything from the blond girl with dragon horns waltzing around our house?

Jaune: I don’t know, I just figured we could tell everyone she’s a Faunus. Just like mom.

Papa Arc: *Wincing* About that, son…

[unseemingowl]

Saga Anderson, and Nordic rep in Alan Wake 2

Early on in Saga Anderson’s exploration in Alan Wake 2, she runs into Ilmo Koskela. Fiercely proud of his Finnish heritage, Ilmo gregariously makes note of Saga’s Nordic sounding name and the familiar design of her knitted sweater. Perhaps a fellow Finn?

Alas no, Saga’s mom is Swedish she informs him. Immediately Ilmo’s face falls. I’m not sure if it’s actually just the animated character defaulting to his resting face, but either way the timing is too perfect. Cue uproarious laughter from me. People in the Nordics are on friendly terms of course, but we gotta have the tiniest bit of… scornfor each other. All in good fun of course. It’s traditional.

Now, I’m Danish, not Finnish, but still, I feel right at home in the towns of Bright Falls and Watery in Alan Wake 2. All of the little nods to Nordic culture and mindset feel so wonderfully familiar to me. The melancholia, the irreverent sense of humor, the affection for the Finnish and Swedish quirks of the characters. The game feels all the stronger in tone and narrative for Remedy embracing the Finnish roots of the studio.

Which is exactly why it sucks that I almost immediately saw the charm of those narrative decisions weaponised against Saga.

I first watched the scene between Ilmo and Saga on a lets play when I was trying to figure out if I should finally dip my toes into survival horror and buy the game. Delighted by the writing I took a look into the comments to see if people were vibing as hard with it as I was. They were. But I also saw a comment that made me frown.

Paraphrasing, it basically went, come on, like hell a guy like Ilmo would make the assumption that a black woman is Finnish. There are a multitude of reasons why I think that person was wrong, mainly that Nordic people love it when we run into each other in other countries, but it also just made me sad.

Saga being black does not negate her Swedish heritage. Formally, she is American, sure (I assume, not sure how that works in the US), but she’s raised by her single Swedish mom, of course she’s going to identify heavily with that part of her herself. It’s a profound and essential part of who she is.

But hey, I’m a white potato Dane, so I’m not gonna argue that I know much about the experience of being biracial. I’m gonna stick to what I know, which is that Saga is a very moving and beautiful example of something that I’m actually not used to seeing much of - a story about connecting with your Nordic heritage and roots. And it’s part of why I love her so much.

When Nordic people show up in big, international productions, it’s usually as Vikings, and sure, it’s fun to see our wild ancestors, but contemporary questions of Nordic identity and heritage is not something I often see explored. Not even in our own productions.

So much of Saga’s story is about family. Fighting for her current one, Logan and Casey (and sure, David too, lol), and rediscovering her first one. Tor and Odin.

Her discovering her ties to Tor and Odin is profoundly moving and made me teary-eyed several times over. And sure, a lot of those ties are fantastical in nature, but they still feel very much grounded - and what makes us Nordic if not the ties to our myths and legends that Tor and Odin have made themselves the living avatars of.

While Saga’s mom, Freya, had good reasons for leaving the Anderson seer magics behind, seeing them as part of what made her family fucked up, she also cut Saga off from the fullness of her capabilities. It is only through Saga reforming her family, healing its scars and fully embracing the Anderson heritage that she becomes as powerful a parautilitarian as she is at the end of the game. That’s beautiful.

And in fact I think Saga being black only deepens the richness of those themes rather than negate them or make them irrelevant. Because yes, Saga’s story would have been moving if she was a white character too, but I am very well aware that a lot of biracial people of Nordic ancestry can feel alienated from that part of themselves. Not least because questions of who gets to claim a Nordic heritage can get pretty ugly around here. There are most definitely people who share the racist mindset of that commentator. It adds an extra dimension. Which is why seeing Tor and Odin’s eagerness to claim Saga as part of the Anderson heritage is all the more moving. Through her magics, she’s just so obviously an Anderson, and they’re so damn proud to call her theirs and fight alongside her. Because they all got that wild Viking blood in them. They’re part of her and she’s part of them.

Roger Ebert, the film critic once called movies empathy machines. I think games, when they’re at their best, can be an even more intense variation of that. Which is exactly why it baffles me that some people can play through Alan Wake 2 and still think Saga is a stunt-woke character rather than someone fully and beautifully integrated in the narrative. A narrative which, at its most basic level – in my opinion – is about the mystical bonds we form with each other and the rest of the world through art and love and blood and family and heritage. All the great horror doesn’t negate that either, it amplifies it. Kind of like that clicker.

[lynn-w3st]

MK1: Thantophobia (Part 1)

(Noun), The fear of losing someone you deeply love and cherish very much.

Pairing: Dark Bi Han x Fem Reader

Warning: Mild Yandere Behavior and Stalking Behavior. (I try my best so I’m sorry if it came out cringe ) 🥺❤️. Hope you guys enjoy 🥰.

Prologue Link: https://www.tumblr.com/lynn-w3st/747076610473263104/mk1-thantophobia-prologue

You were awoken by the sound of birds chirping outside of your window. The sunlight gently beamed through your curtains as you sat up from your bed and groan tiredly. It was time to get ready for work as your owns a small bakery.

With a sigh you decided to get ready for the day as you needed all of the money you can get to help your father to pay for his medication. You wore you standard clothes and skirt apron.

Your father walk towards you with his cane in hand and gave you a weak smile. “You know if you feel burden to continue the family business I won’t hold you accountable. I want you to live a normal and steady life.” He began as you sigh and brought him into a hug. Your father began to cry as he felt useless for burdening you a lot.

“It’s ok father, I want you to be happy and safe. Mother may have walk out on us but you have always been there for me growing up. Please don’t ever feel like you are a burden to me.” You said softly as you wipe a tear from his face.

Your father place a kiss on your forehead and gave you a blessing before handing your satchel to you. “It seems you are stubborn like your old man.” He said as he chuckled before coughing uncontrollably. You frown and use your own handkerchief to wipe his bloody mouth.

“I won’t be out to much long father. Please by the elder gods go get some rest and lay down.” You said as you then escorted your sick father towards the bed and helping lay down before covering him up with some warm blankets.

“Take care my daughter. Don’t speak to any strangers unless they are customers.” He said as you nodded before getting up and leaving his bedroom. You bid farewell to him before leaving the house and locking it behind you and hop on your bicycle rode towards the village market.

The fresh spring air breeze was gently blowing on your face as everyone in the village were tending and working on the fields. A sense of calm and peace was evident in your mind.

The ride to the marketplace wasn’t much long as many vendors and retailers began to open and prepare their products and stands. You came into a stop in front of the bakery as the baker Jun was waiting patiently for your arrival.

“For a second I thought something happen. How’s your old man doing?” He asked as you got off of your bicycle and park it against the wall. “He’s still not doing well, had a high fever last night. Almost gave me a heart attack.” You said as you opened your bakery shop’s door.

“Hey don’t worry kiddo, your old man will get better soon. He’s one tough man and I’m very proud to be your godfather. It is my duty to make sure you are safe.” Jun said as he ruffled your hair. “Thanks uncle, now those pastries and breads won’t bake themselves.” You said.

The both of you began to set up and clean up the shop before any customers came in. The shop has been passed down from generation to generations. It belong to your ancestors before passing it down to your parents. You turn on the open sign before helping Jun make the goods.

Few hours later, you were humming a lullaby tone as you place the newly fresh batches of breads and pastries on the display cabinet.

So far you and Jun had quite a few customers come in to order your guys famous boba milk tea. The market was filled with people who were happily chatting away and shopping around the stores. The radio was playing some calm music as the bakery’s door open to reveal an old man.

“Hello welcome! If you need any assistance please feel free to ask me.” You said as the old man nodded and looked over the display. Jun was outside in the back smoking a cigarette.

“How much for these moon cakes.” The man said as you happily told him the price. The bell jingled again as two familiar faces enter the shop. The old man grabbed the two boxes of the moon cakes before standing before you to pay before leaving the bakery to go shop again.

“(Y,N)” Kung Lao said as he greeted you with a smile as you left your position from the register and rounded the corner to hug your two best friends. “Raiden! Kung Lao!” You said happily.

You brought them both into a tight hug. Jun smiled and greeted the both of them when he entered. “I hope Kung Lao hasn’t been giving you any trouble Raiden.” You asked giving your friend the funny stinky eye. Raiden chuckled at your sassy attitude while Jun choked a laugh.

Kung Lao let out a fake gasped and place a sassy hand over his heart in a dramatic gesture. You rolled your eyes and laugh as his reaction.

“How you could you say that to the Nicki Minaj great Kung Lao.” He said dramatically making you giggled more before making a baggie full of pastries and goodies. “Here are some freshly baked pastries and breads for you both. It’s on the house.” You said as Raiden was speechless.

“Oh no no (Y,N) let me pay for it please you are to kind.” He said as you shook your head and practically shoved the small bag into his arms. “Please I insists, Raiden! You and Lao have been very helpful to me. Especially in hard times since my father is still very ill.” You said.

Raiden gave you a reassuring smile before accepting the bag. “Thank you (Y,N) Kung Lao and I will enjoy your pastries. Hope your father gets better soon.” He said as he and Kung Lao bid farewell to you before leaving the bakery.

You waved back to them and resumed going back to work as more customers came into the shop. By the time you had finish paying the last customer, the sun was beginning to set in the horizon. Many of the stores began to close up and head back to their home for the day.

Jun helped you place the chairs up as you were counting register. “Why don’t you go home for the day kiddo. I can finish here and lock up the store.” He said as you hesitated for a bit. “Are you sure, Jun ? I don’t mind staying.” You said

“Yeah go take care of your old man. Be careful and don’t speak to strangers.” He said as you gave him a thumbs up and left the bakery. You place your satchel on the basket and got on your bicycle. You waved goodbye to Jun before riding towards your home to make some dinner.

You parked your bike against the side of the house and walked towards the front door to open it but found another small box that very similar to the one that you received last night.

However, this time the writing had a different message on it that read; In this timeline ‘till next I’d be choosing you over and over again.

Again that cold and dreadful feeling appeared as everything went quiet and your body was filled with goosebumps. You decided to not think much of it and enter your cozy house.

“I was worried for a bit my child. You normally don’t stay this late. I’m assuming Jun is going to finish up.” Your father said as made his way to you. “Sorry father for worrying you. Are you feeling a bit better?” You asked your father.

“I feel a bit better, my daughter. Come let’s us eat some dinner. You’ve had a very busy day.” He said leading you towards the kitchen table that various of your favorite spicy dishes.

“Ok papa, I’m starving and by the way Raiden and Kung Lao stop by. They are going out of town for a few months and they said that hopefully you get better soon.” You said.

Your father smiled as he served you some tea before the both of you began to eat the food. The both of you did not notice a dark silhouette watching you every move before disappearing.

Later that night after finishing getting ready for bed you couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread and uneasiness as someone or something is watching you even if your curtains were closed.

You decided that maybe it was the stress that caused you to feel this way. And with that you blew out the candle and got into your cozy bed.

Tiredness and sleepiness began to consume you as the last thing you saw was your window balcony opening slowly before you fell asleep.

Hope you guys enjoy this chapter of the story. Sorry if it’s slow as you can see I’m still trying to figure how this story is going to work out.

If you guys have any questions or concerns for me, I’m always happy to answer them for you guys. Please if you guys have some ideas or suggestions on how to introduce Dark Bi Han then I would be very much appreciated.

Please take care of yourself my lovely besties and I’m here if you guys ever need anything.

[cyberrose2001]

Can I request bayverse ratchet with a fem! human who confesses her feelings to him?

Bayverse Ratchet x fem!human!reader

here's a short scenario for you anon :)

Warnings: None, SFW

Word count: 638

“Ratchet, can we uh… talk.”

It wasn’t something that had occurred to you quickly. Instead, it was something that had been brewing inside you for over a year whilst being employed to conduct cover-up work for NEST. A whole bunch of emotions you had no intention of unravelling until now.

He’s noticed you, and you’ve noticed him. The sideway glances of his optics never failed to catch your eye as you manoeuvre yourself around the base, holding yourself in a professional regard you are most proud of. But this is in no way professional, not in the slightest. Ratchet is a Cybertronian, a species whose life spans are longer than the time it took for your ancestors to crawl out of the ocean. You’re just a human, an insect to them—a bunch of backstabbin’ weasels.

Despite whether or not he shares the same affections for you, you need to get it off your chest so you can at least move on.

“Certainly. What do you need to discuss with me?” Ratchet says, unbothered by your presence like he usually is with other members of your species. He had told you once that you were the only human he could barely tolerate, and that’s one tick for yes on your checklist of ‘Does Ratchet like me, or would he rather saw me in half?’.

You stand before him, brushing your works pants awkwardly. You’re thankful you caught him alone in his designated med bay, fiddling with equipment entirely alien to you. You really didn’t want to be made fun of by Hound. You clear your throat, “What are you, uh, working on?”

“I’m calibrating the electromagnetic spark conductor, ESC for short. I believe the proper term for your species is a ‘defibrillator’.” The green mech places a tool back on the bench and looks at you, “But according to your elevated heart rate, you’re not here just to make small talk, are you?”

Fuck. He’s got you there. Curse your involuntary bodily functions.

“No, not really.” You finger the hem of your blouse, “I’ve noticed you, uh, staring a lot.”

Ratchets’ shoulders tense before a small smile graces his metallic lips, “Quite observant you are. It’s no wonder that they hired you.”

You nearly choke on your breath, “Well, heh, I’ve got to be good at something, right?”

“Indeed,” Ratchet crouches down to your height, allowing you to take in every little crevasse of his face. Bright blue optics roaming across your own flushed face, “But I’ll have to say, you’re not very talented in hiding your emotions very well.”

Now or never, Y/n. You exhale shaky, “It’s hard to hide emotions like these, Ratchet. I like you.”

“Well, that’s rather obvious, isn’t it?” He scoffs playfully, not in his usual rude way as you had expected, “But it seems that I have harbored the same… feelings for you as well.”

Now you actually choke on your breath. Your chest swells with happiness and disbelief, “You… you mean it?”

Ratchet tilts his helm, “I would not lie to you,” He reaches a curled digit to brush against your cheek, “You’ve certainly caught my attention for a little squishy like you.”

You smile and lean into his touch, relief washing over you in waves, “I… don’t know what to say.”

A small smile also graces his face, “You need not. Your actions speak louder.”

Cautiously, you gently move a hand out in front of you and push it against his face. It’s cold and metallic but fits just right against the palm of your hand, “What will we tell the others?”

“Nothing, they don’t need to know,” He hums, feeling the vibrations run down your arm, “Let’s keep it professional around them for now, hm? That’s something you’re good at.”

You chuckle, cheeks warming up, “For sure, Ratchet. For sure…”

[rendy-a]

Regarding your househusband AU,

what do you think of general househusband headcanons for Sebek?

It’s always fun to write Sebek.  He has nice qualities like being loyal and dependable but at the same time, something about him is just lends itself to comedy.  Lets see what it’s like being married to sweet and silly Sebek.

If he is going to give up his life’s goal of being Malleus’s guard to be a househusband, then he is resolved to be the best househusband.  He couldn’t live with himself otherwise!  Sebek assigns himself training projects to improve his household skills.  Through research and practice, he hones his skills.  Now, he can fold a fitted sheet and tell you how to get red wine out of your white shirt.  And yes, he is pretty smug about it.

You are famous throughout the neighborhood; how could you not be?  Sebek goes about bragging up all your accomplishments to everyone he meets.  When you meet a new neighbor, it is common to get an appraising look and a, “OH!  So, you’re the spouse of Sebek.  He’s told us ALL about you.”  Sebek will stand at your side with a proud expression; it’s only right that the neighbors recognize the greatness of his Sweetie-Sama!

He feels things deeply, he may just not always show it.  Be sure to let him know how much he means to you.  Your loving words carry him throughout the day.  If you give him a gift, he will treasure it like the priceless symbol of your love that it is.  Please keep this in mind when picking out gifts and don’t get him anything perishable.  He will be heartbroken when the flowers wilt or the candy spoils.

You were talking with your neighbor, having meet her on the street while taking out the trash for collection day.  “I’m surprised to see you this morning, it’s usually your spouse who brings out the trash,” you say to make polite conversation.  “That lazy bum!  I’ve told them at least three times today to take it out but do they do it, no!  So here I am!”  Then your neighbor proceeds to heave the bag of trash into the waiting can with a sigh.  “MY SWEETIE-SAMA ALWAYS TAKES OUT THE TRASH WITHOUT BEING ASKED!” Sebek shouts, causing you both to jump at his sudden arrival.  “Perhaps you should consider your spouse’s merit if they can’t take out a single measly bag.” Sebek concludes with a smug grin.

Your neighbor takes one look at Sebek’s expression and turns sour, “Well it’s just taking out the trash.  It’s not like it is that important.”  Sebek looks stunned for a moment, as though your neighbor had dared insult him and his ancestors.  “HUMAN! Have you no PRIDE in your spouse! Of course, it matters!”  You sense that this is another neighbor who will not become a friend.  You better do some damage control.  “Ah, Sebek, could you please run inside and see if you can find my keys?  I seem to have misplaced them.”  Your eager spouse is easily distracted by the opportunity to prove himself useful to you and darts off into the house. 

You turn and give your neighbor and apologetic look.  “Sorry about that, he just is very enthusiastic.”  She gives you a disapproving frown, “Human.  You let him talk to you like that?  Does he respect you at all?”  You cringe, aware of the way Sebek is often perceived by others.  “I assure you that he treats me very well,” you say.  ‘Maybe he should teach your spouse a thing or two,’ you add privately to yourself before heading back inside.

When you arrive inside, Sebek is waiting for you with a beaming grin that shows his fangs.  He proudly presents you with your missing keys.  “What a fine job, dear.  I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you say before giving him a peck on the cheek.  Your praise and kiss add an adorable flush to your spouse’s cheeks.  You feel saddened that such a wonderful person can be so misunderstood.

Sebek notices your drooping shoulders and attempts to cheer you up, “Don’t worry.  It doesn’t matter if some lowly human can’t recognize your greatness.  I’ll be sure to scold her more later.”  This makes you chuckle, imagining your spouse cornering her and shouting to her about your virtues.  Suddenly, you decide not to go to work today.  “Hey, what do you say I take a day off and we have a date instead?”  The excited expression on your spouse’s face tells you that this was just what you needed.

There is an area of your town that has a carnival atmosphere.  There are street food stands, games, and a Ferris wheel; you take your husband here for your date.  After arriving, you scope out the selection and pick out some food; tasty fried foods to start and cotton candy for dessert.  The best part of the meal though is seeing Sebek blush when you wipe the stray sauce from his cheek.  Then you walk the boardwalk, trying your hand at a few games.  Sebek wins you a small stuffed bear and you assign him the task of protecting your precious charge.  He takes this duty as serious as when he was still a guard-in-training back at college.  Surly, no harm will come this bear.

Finally, you wind up at a stand that draws caricature portraits.  “You should get one!” you tell Sebek happily.  He looks at you and says, “If it’s for me than I want one of you!”  You laugh and pay for a portrait before sitting down.  As the artist sketches you, he asks about your spouse.  You end up gazing at him and chatting with the artist about how you’d met, your wedding and some of your many adventure since.  When the picture is finished, the artist hands it to you.  You look at it, laugh and comment, “I look like a lovestruck teenager.”  He laughs back and says, “Are you sure you aren’t one?”  That brings another laugh and smile to your lips. 

When you get home, you both carry your treasures inside.  You find a comfy place on the couch for your bear to ‘sleep’ and then head to see where Sebek has put your caricature.  You find him in the office he has taken over for his library.  He gives you a satisfied smile and hug before heading off to prepare dinner.  You gaze at the wall of the library; between two bookcases, your caricature hangs next to the portrait of Malleus that Sebek has cherished all these years.  ‘Yes,’ you think, ‘your husband does respect you.’  The proof is right on the wall.

[cranetreegang]

Home at Last - Ominis x FemReader

Summary: Ominis finally returns to the Gaunt Estate. It's all that he remembers, except he's the one who's changed. He navigates his parents in search of any clues about Ancient Magic and his ancestors.

Word Count: ~7,200 words

Read my other Ominis Fics Here

Warnings: Child abuse, mentions of child abuse, manipulation

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Standing in front of the iron gate, Ominis clenches his wand tightly in one hand and his suitcase in the other. Despite not having been back to the Estate in years, it all feels the exact same. The gate resonates with layers of protective charms and dark magic. He can barely make out the circular emblem locking the gate in place, which he’s sure has a gaudy ‘G’ etched at the center. The feelings he used to harbor for this place hasn’t changed either as his feet refuse to move to take the final steps forward. 

He closes his eyes, sucking in a sharp breath, then finally approaches. The gate shutters open for the wayward heir and he walks towards the manor. Under his boots, he feels patches of grass growing between the once trimmed stone path - occasionally kicking some loose bricks as he passes. The steps leading up to the door aren’t fairing much better, deteriorating under his weight and he hears the sounds of pebbles and debris hitting the ground. 

The massive double door is his last chance to turn around. With one last sharp inhale, Ominis flick his wand at the door. It groans and whines as it slowly opens. Ominis steps inside, the smells of old wood and marble greet him along with a scent of dust. The still silence sends a brief chill down his spine then the door slams shut, echoing throughout the manor in a deafening boom and rattling him. His back straightens and he knows there’s no turning back now.

He notes how there’s not as much furniture by the entryway. In fact, as he walks through the manor towards his old bedroom, the place is practically sparse. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve thought they had moved without telling him. But, he does know the harsh truth of the matter and he can’t stop a scornful smirk at how much his proud family has fallen. Oh, if Salazar Slytherin could see the deteriorating state of his esteemed bloodline now, Ominis laughs to himself. There hasn’t even been a single house elf scurrying through the halls, now that he thinks of it. Indeed, his family is truly in tough times for his Mother to forgo her house elves.

He rounds the corner and heads down the long hallway of the east wing towards the last door on the right. With another flick of his wand, his wards pacify then the bedroom door unlocks and shudders open. Waving his wand around, he’s surprised to find he still has a bed. It seems his room is wholly untouched - his four poster bed on the far right wall, his large oak desk in front of him against the window, then his wardrobe on the left wall. 

Setting his suitcase on the bed, creating a cloud of dust in the air, his mind starts to drift back to his days here - his days before the Sallow twins and Hogwarts. A soft sigh escapes him as he heads towards his old desk. 

Through the layer of grime, his fingertips find the familiar scratches and knicks exactly as they were. He sits down in the chair and recites a spell to unlock the drawers. Notes, books, amateur drawings, and other various knick knacks are tucked away inside - all as he left it. One journal in particular gets his attention. The leatherbound book is cool against his touch and he flips open to a random page to read.

Each day feels like a struggle, a battle. I don’t know what’s worse - Father when he ignores my existence entirely, or when he does acknowledge my presence. 

I yearn for his approval. I try to be the son he wishes me to be. But everytime I try, I’m only met with his harsh, cruel words as he berates me - his words laced with obvious disdain and disapproval. It’s days like today that I’m thankful for my blindness, so as to not see the matching disgust which accompanies these words.

Cimsy was able to procure me the spellbook I requested, and I’ve managed to create charms to protect my room and desk. After the incident with Marvolo, I pray I’m able to find brief sanctuary in my room. It’s a shallow comfort - as these charms are rudimentary at best - but I take it all the same. 

Next year, I’ll be at Hogwarts. Next year, I’ll be far, far away from here. Next year, I’ll become just as talented as all the wizards I’ve read about in my stories. I’ll be a hero - rising above adversity and slaying fearsome monsters. 

Ominis skims his wand over the entry several times, recalling that day all too well. Many memories he hasn’t thought about start to surface. He gently places the journal on the desk then reaches back inside the drawer. Searching along the underside, he feels a shallow, circular indent - which he presses. A soft click reaches his ears and he smiles, tracing along the side until a protruding piece of wood meets his fingers. He opens it, his fingers just barely touching the hidden contents. 

“Young Master.”

Shutting the drawer with a swift movement, Ominis whips his head around with a scowl, which quickly melts into a more gentle expression once he realizes who’s at the door.

“Cimsy,” Ominis grins as he stands. “It’s been too long. How are you?”

The old house elf limps into the room, her bare feet dragging on the marble floor.

“Cimsy is most pleased to see the young Master back,” Cimsy sounds more worn, aged, and tired than he recalls. He holds back his pitying frown as Cimsy continues. 

“Cimsy has been quite busy since the others were sold. Cimsy tried to clean your room before you arrived, young Master, but Cimsy could not get in. Clever charms, young Master. Too clever for Cimsy.” 

“I apologize. I forgot they were in place before I left,” Ominis smiles, “I’m sorry I haven’t visited you, Cimsy. Truly. I've missed you, and our walks in the garden.”

Cimsy chuckles, airy and weak, “Cimsy has missed the young Master Gaunt as well. Cimsy has been sent to retrieve the young Master. Mistress Gaunt wishes to see you, young Master.”

Ominis’ smile fades into a tight grimace, and he nods, “Very well. I shouldn’t keep her waiting. Lead the way.”

Cimsy bows, then starts her slow shuffle towards the parlor room. 

Along the way, Ominis is reminiscent of all the times he’s walked to the parlor - through all the winding, rug covered hallways and past all the portraits no doubt staring at him as he goes by. Cimsy opens the door to the parlor and a rush of warm air hits his face.

“Mistress Gaunt, the young Master is here, as requested.”

Ominis strides into the room, registering the presence of his mother by the window lounging on the chaise.  By the way her arm is angled, she’s no doubt holding onto a wine glass. 

“Have lunch prepared, Cimsy,” Mother’s voice is cold, detached, and without inflection. It sends a shiver down his spine despite the order not being towards him. 

“Right away, Mistress,” Cimsy says, snapping her fingers to apparate to the kitchens. 

Mother sets down her glass with a clink then rises from her perch. She slowly turns to face him and Ominis feels her sharp eyes upon him. She flows towards him with soft steps and the air chills once she’s in front of him. He notices that she’s not as tall as she once was as she’s no longer able to loom over him. Instead, it appears he’s at least above eye level with her. 

“Oh, my little Ominis,” she coos in a far warmer tone than earlier. The change has always jarred him, but he maintains a neutral expression - even when her cold hands cup either side of his cheeks. 

She turns his head, examining him, “My, my, how you’ve grown into such a handsome young man.”

Her long fingers stroke through his hair - landing on the back of his neck to bring him into her embrace. Ominis is stiff in her arms as she places a kiss on the top of his head. 

“I have missed you, my darling boy,” she whispers. The stench of tart wine fans across his face. Her strong perfume consumes the rest of his senses. 

“I’ve missed your letters, my sweetling. Do you know how much worry and anguish I’ve been in? Do you even care?” 

Ominis winces at her sweetly sharp tone, her nails threatening to rip into him. He replies as evenly as he can. 

“I apologize, Mother. I didn’t mean to cause you distress. My coursework is quite demanding and it requires my full attention.” 

Mother’s hands move to his shoulders, her nails digging into him as she yanks him out of her bosom. The heat of her glare prickles his skin and he does well in keeping his blank expression.

“‘Full attention’?! Are you saying I am not worthy of your ‘precious’ attention? After all I’ve sacrificed for you? After all I’ve done for you! This is how you repay my kindness? My love?” her voice wavers, signaling the beginning of tears starting to form. 

Ominis swallows the lump in his throat, “I didn’t mean to upset you, Mother. I know you’ve done much for me. Which is why I’m here now.”

She tsk’s then seethes, “You’ve been running away from your duties. Your responsibilities. I have done everything for you. I have created a path that’s best for you, yet you continue to act like a juvenile. I never should’ve allowed you to go off to that school. It’s pulled you too much away from me.” 

“Please, Mother,” he says calmly, “Hogwarts is what’s best for me. You said so yourself. If I’m to be truly worthy as your son, then I must be educated. You know this.”

 Sensing her growing annoyance and rage, he quickly adds, “I’ve longed to be here with you, Mother. I… missed you. And I haven’t forgotten my duties. I’m trying to prepare for them - as to make you proud. I only want to be a worthy son to you, Mother.” 

She’s silent, her hold on his shoulders relax and she shifts a hand up to cup his cheek once more. He remains stoic and still, suppressing the chills and discomfort behind clenched teeth. 

“You’ve changed,” she coos while rubbing her thumb across his cheek. “For the better it seems. It’s good you’ve come to your senses. And for you to return home. Return to me.” 

He can’t bring himself to force a smile, so he only nods, “Of course, Mother.”

Mother sighs, letting him go then taking his arm to lead him, “Come. Let us eat. I’m sure you’re starving.” 

Ominis doesn’t fight her, he needs her. At least until he finds what he’s looking for. Until then, he’ll play the part he knows so well - the good, obedient son. 

Arriving at the dining room, they sit across from one another while Cimsy brings out their meal. A bland watery broth wafts up to his nose along with the welcoming scent of warm, fresh bread. 

“Cimsy!” Mother hisses. “Surely this must be a joke. You do have something else prepared.”

He hears Cimsy wring her hands together as she stammers, “C-Cimsy is deeply sorry, Mistress. Cimsy could o-only make this. Mistress did not give Cimsy enough to buy-,”

“Shut up!” 

Cimsy silences immediately while his Mother fumes. Ominis grips his spoon tightly, wishing he could speak up. But, he remains silent.

“Leave us. I expect something more worthwhile at dinner,” Mother sneers.

Cimsy doesn’t hesitate to leave. Their meal is in silence, thankfully. Once it’s done, Ominis finally decides to ask,

“Mother, would it be alright if I were to read through some of the records in the archives?” 

There’s a long silence and Ominis holds his tongue to keep from groveling. His true intentions are on full display and he worries he may have shown too much. 

“Why?” She questions. 

“It’s time I’ve learned more of our namesake and heritage. I want to continue family traditions,” he replies quickly with the excuse he’s been repeating in his head since he first arrived. 

Another long silence, and his tongue is bleeding from his sharp teeth digging into the flesh. 

“I’ve been looking forward to this day,” Mother beams as she stands. Ominis releases a breath, going to stand as she continues, “Our family history is one which many don’t have the privilege of knowing.” 

She goes over to Ominis, gripping his arm again as she leads him to the library. He can’t deny his excitement, his curiosity. The implications of his ancestors having a connection to Ancient Magic would give him as many questions as answers. He wonders if his path was always meant to intertwine with his love’s. The thought troubles him - the idea of him and her fated to be together instead of wanting to be doesn’t sit well with him. That his actions up to this point have been meaningless as they were always meant to happen this way. He shoves the idea aside, not wishing to dwell on the possibility any longer.

Mother pulls him through the dusty library to the locked room at the back. She produces her key, the door softly unlocks then opens, and they head inside the musty room. Mother taps a glass object and he hears the soft humming of what he assumes to be lights. Despite not having been in the archives in some time, it’s exactly as he remembers it.

The archives is a long rectangular room, adorned with shelves, cabinets, and display cases. The air carries a faint scent of aged paper and taxidermy beasts - beasts that have long since been wiped to extinction. Framed portraits of ancestors, their watchful gazes keeping a vigil over the room, stare into Ominis. He can imagine the sneers of these portraits as the disapproving mumblings of his blindness reach his ears. 

Along the walls, rows of sturdy wooden shelves stretch from floor to ceiling, neatly organized and laden with volumes of journals, diaries, and bound manuscripts. Cabinets with glass doors stand proudly, showcasing delicate heirlooms and cherished mementos. A silver pocket watch, a set of wands, and worn leather gloves are among the treasures preserved.

In the center of the room, a large oak table serves as a workspace, adorned with magnifying glasses, quills and ink, and carefully arranged parchment paper. 

The room exudes a sense of order and purpose, meticulously sorted and organized through generations. If there is one thing the Gaunt’s pride themselves on - it’s their family heritage.  

“Ah, where to begin?” Gliding around the room, her fingers dance along the spines of journals and tomes until she stops on one. She pulls it from the shelf and flips it open. 

“Gormalith will be of interest to you,” she begins then dives right into reading a rather boring account of what Gormalith had for breakfast and the subsequent torture of the house elf which made him said breakfast. 

Before she can continue, Ominis interjects, “I was hoping I could find a certain time frame.” 

Mother stares at him, shutting the book with a huff, “And what time frame would that be, Ominis?”

“I was thinking upon it the other day, and I’m afraid I’m unfamiliar with any of our history during the 15th century.”

He can feel her brow raise, but she hums as she heads to the other side of the room. He follows, and notes when she lingers on a certain row of books. 

“I doubt a boy your age would be interested in that era,” Mother dismisses then heads towards another shelf. “You would be far more pressed to know about Aron and his exploits in the east. In fact, he was able to capture a Ceasg during his voyage across the North Sea.” 

Ominis’ brows pinch, but he suppresses his aggravation with a stiff nod, “If that’s what you believe is best.”

Mother continues to read to him about the accounts of his ancestors, and Ominis nods along - his mind drifting to the one row which she lingered at. As the afternoon shifts to evening, Ominis senses his mother growing bored of the history lesson. 

“We should check on Cimsy to ensure dinner is being prepared,” she shuts the diary and grabs onto his arm.

“I wouldn’t mind staying here for a moment longer,” Ominis states then quickly adds, “If that’s alright.” 

Her grip on his arm tightens, “You shouldn’t be in here by yourself, my sweetling.”

“I can handle myself,” he replies far too sharply. Her nails dig into him to confirm as much. “Besides, I’m utterly fascinated by our family heritage.” 

“Ominis-,”

“You were saying I’ve been neglecting my duties,” he says as calmly as he can. “Perhaps this is the best way for me to understand my place. To appreciate the path you’ve set out for me, and understand my role in our family.”

Another long pause makes his shoulders tense. 

She has a light, amused laugh before she places a kiss on his cheek, “Oh, my curious little boy. Very well, I’ll leave you to it,” she places the key into his palm. “Lock up when you’re done. I’ll have Cimsy come fetch you when dinner is ready.” 

Mother leaves, and Ominis lets out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. He stuffs the key into his pocket then heads quickly over to the shelf he’s been dying to investigate all day. He grabs as many journals as he can carry and takes them to the oak table. Plopping down into the worn leather chair, he begins to skim through the diaries. 

According to what his love told him, Isidora would’ve been at Hogwarts in her youth around the 1450’s with the latest dates being before 1500 - when she became a professor. He grimaces at how wide of a year range that leaves him, but she also mentioned Headmistress Fitzgerald serving Hogwarts during that time frame. Rackham, Rookwood, and Bakar were also names he could search for. Hopefully, that’ll be enough for him to go on. 

He’s barely made it through the first diary when Cimsy informs him of dinner being ready. Ominis is reluctant to leave, but he doesn’t have much of a choice. As he heads back to the dining room, he stops at his room - free from prying eyes. He takes out the archives key and conjures a duplicate. Satisfied, he hides the key in his desk then heads to dinner. 

The air in the dining room is tense, and Ominis pauses for a moment as he enters the room. His father is at the head of the table while his mother is sat next to him. Ominis is hesitant as he takes his place across from his mother. The stench of scented smoke and tobacco emanates from his father. Some things truly haven’t changed, Ominis muses to himself. 

Cimsy summons forth their dinner, a roast with potatoes and carrots, then she refills his mother and father’s drinks. 

Ominis isn’t unfamiliar with the tense atmosphere - especially if his father is near - but it unsettles him all the same. The quiet clanking of their silver utensils hitting the fine china and chewing is the only noises to be heard. Ominis tries his best to not look like he’s rushing to finish eating, but he longs to leave this dinner. 

“It seems you received a letter today,” Mother says in a low voice. 

Fear clasps around his throat before he tilts his head with feign surprise, “Oh? From who?” 

Paper rustles and tears, sending his heart beating frantically in his chest. 

“Dearest Ominis,” Mother begins with a terse frown lacing her voice, “I hope you arrived safely. I miss you already. I hope to hear from you soon. Sincerely yours.”

Ominis lets out a quiet breath, thankful she did not write anything too sweet to him. 

“Who is this?” Mother questions.

“A friend from school,” Ominis replies with no hesitation.

More rustling of paper as Mother re-reads the letter once again. 

“And this friend,” Mother draws out, “who are they?”

“Just a friend. Nothing more,” Ominis counters. 

“Friends do not write, ‘I miss you already’.”

Ominis can’t help his smirk, “Perhaps not yours.”

Mother scoffs, igniting the letter on fire - the smoke reaching his nose and making him scowl. 

“It’s a girl, isn’t it? This friend?” Mother hisses. “Tell me, are you involved with her?” 

“I’ve already said, she’s a friend. Nothing more. I don’t know what else you wish me to say on the matter. I can’t control what she writes. Perhaps she does hold some infatuation with me, but I do not return the affection,” Ominis clenches his jaw, his hand gripping on to his pants. 

He hates it. The lies. But, he can’t afford to argue with Mother. Not when he’s only just started his search.

“She’s a Mudblood, isn’t she? It’s why you aren’t telling me her name,” Mother states. “Filthy things. I’m not surprised one is trying so hard to cling to you. She probably sees you as her only real way to any sort of status.”

He sits straighter, suppressing his anger at his mother’s vulgarity, “No. She’s not of pure standing, so you know I have no real interest in her.”

“You shouldn’t be fraternizing with Mudbloods in the first place,” Father’s deep, grating voice interjects with disapproval lacing his words. “Even speaking of them is enough to ruin my appetite.” 

“Your father is right. Why are you writing to a Mudblood?” Mother demands. “She’s not worth your time. Not when there are plenty of others you would do well to correspond with.” 

“She… has connections,” Ominis states. “Connections I require.”

“What sort of connections? What connections could a lowly half-breed possibly offer you that I cannot provide?” Mother’s voice raises with every word. 

“Does it matter? Shouldn’t you be pleased that I’m at least capable of forming connections on my own?” Ominis hates how quickly he’s rising to her goading. But he can’t stop himself. “With how things are going here, it’s a wonder you aren’t praising me for finding anyone willing to associate with us.”

“Do not speak to me that-,”

“Enough!” Father’s voice booms as he slams his hand down on the table - rattling all the dishes. “I grow weary of this discussion and your disrespect. Leave!”

Ominis doesn’t need further prompting and he quickly rises from his chair. Before he can fully leave, his mother’s voice calls out.

“Leave the key.” 

He sighs, going through his pockets to produce the duplicate, and slams it at the end of the dining table. Then he quickly retreats to his room. As soon as the door shuts, he falls back against the door with a heavy breath. 

He wishes this was the first time a dinner had gone sourly, but alas it isn’t - and it won’t be the last. The dusty smell from earlier has faded and he catches the faintest aroma of clean sheets. Oh Cimsy, he smiles to himself. She does too much for him.

Pushing himself off the door, he heads to his desk to write to his love - since going to the archives now would be risky. The stationary in the top drawer is slick under his fingers, and he enchants the quill to begin writing. 

He lays in bed, waiting as time moves slowly by. He hopes to leave soon to continue his reading. With his siblings being mercifully absent, he can somewhat relax as he waits. His mind drifts to her. What might she be up to? He focuses on her, and he senses her worry, concern, and anticipation. 

Turning to his side, he reaches out in a vain attempt to feel her next to him - to comfort her. She voiced her displeasure of him going as he left, and her concerns were valid. But, he’s tired of sitting idly by as she wrestles with this Ancient Magic on her own. 

The tips of his fingers warm and, for a moment, it’s like she’s touching him back. In his mind’s eyes, he can picture the dip in the bed of her laying next to him - facing him with a soft smile as he traces her face. Despite having just been with her, it feels like they’ve been apart for too long. 

“Don’t worry, my sweet,” he whispers. “I promise I’m fine, and I’ll return to you soon.” 

Feather light touches brush along his cheek and comb through his hair. A pleasant shiver rolls down his spine, and the pull of sleep starts to draw him deeper into her phantom caresses. With a sigh, he reluctantly gets up from the bed and heads to the archives. 

Sneaking towards the library is a feat he’s done numerous times. He has all the portraits which would rat him out mapped, and since he doesn’t require the aid of light he can stay hidden in the dark the whole time. Once in the archives, he continues reading the journal from earlier.

He repeats this process over the course of the week, growing more and more frustrated as the days pass. Navigating his mother and dealing with the forced dinners is exhausting enough, but reading through the mundane, sadistic ramblings of his ancestors is a form of torture in itself. He barely sleeps, not that he has any desire to in this place. 

Since the letter, Mother has felt it apt for him to truly understand why Mudbloods are ‘lower, primitive beings’. These ‘lessons’ are enough to bring him to the edge. He’s nearly voiced his displeasure on several occasions, if not for the reminder that he hasn’t found what he’s looking for yet. And if he were to go against his mother now, then everything would have been for nought. So, he remains silent, letting his mother prattle on. 

He gets a brief solace when Mother is ‘too tired to deal with him’, allowing him to roam about without her watchful gaze. It’s in these moments he retreats to the gardens - overgrown and dying - and he naps in his secluded spot behind the bushes under the gnarly tree. 

It’s another late night as he flips through the pages of Amphelisia’s diary, finding her accounts to mirror his own in terms of schooling. It’s during her Fifth Year that things get interesting. 

I can’t believe the events that transpired today. By my troth, a student joined Hogwarts as a Fifth Year! Completely unheard of. I didn’t hear her name over Mathias’ prattling, but she was sorted into Ravenclaw. Tragic really, as I would’ve been keen on observing her. 

How could someone be admitted into Hogwarts so late -  is the question on everyone’s lips. I’m determined to find out more anon.

Ominis nearly rips the page as he quickly turns it to find out more. He skims through the entries until a familiar name jumps out at him.

Isidora Morganach is by far the most ghastly, presumptuous girl I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting. Not only does she have all the professors charmed, but she has most of the class absolutely enamored. Methinks it’s because she’s new, and, similar to a two-headed beast, she’s a spectacle. 

But the final insult was when we had our mock duel in Defense Against the Dark Arts today. She swiftly dispatched my Protego charm as if I didn’t even have it up then she knocked me off the platform. The entire class laughed. LAUGHED! At me! I shan't forget this. 

He can’t believe it. He’s finally found mentions of Isidora. He continues his reading until another entry strikes his interest. 

Isidora may have her uses after all. In Transfiguration, I struggled with the conjuration of a simple cup. Meanwhile, Isidora had no issue conjuring her own. Before Professor Rookwood could see, Isidora conjured a cup right on my desk. Professor Rookwood was so impressed with me, he used ‘my cup’ as an example for the rest of the class. Perhaps, befriending her may be advantageous to me.

A few entries later, he finds mentions of Amphelisia showing the Undercroft to Isidora as their own private hideaway. He grins as he reads over their growing, albeit reluctant, friendship. But as he finishes the diary, there’s no mention of Ancient Magic. Amphelisia comments on Isidora being gifted in magic, with her spells being quite powerful, but Isidora never discloses the nature of it to Amphelisia. 

Ominis searches the shelves, summoning down more of Amphelisia’s dairies. He knows the hour is growing later - with the morning soon upon him - but he’s close. He has to be. It isn’t until Amphelisia is a young woman when Isidora is mentioned again. 

I received the strangest owl today. My old friend, Isidora, wrote to me. The contents of the letter were somewhat troubling, but she insisted we meet. I shall see what she wants, and I pray it isn’t a waste of time.

 The next entry makes him scowl.

Isidora gave me a book of some kind. Locked, and I have no way of opening it despite my best efforts. Always the clever one. I’m tempted to throw it away as burning it does nothing. 

The rest of Amphelisia’s diary makes no mention of Isidora’s book, nor what she decided to do with it. Ominis paces the room, scanning the shelves for any signs of this possible journal. He frowns - cursing Amphelisia for possibly throwing away the one clue he desperately needed. Collapsing in the leather chair, Ominis debates about continuing his reading or leaving. He taps his wand in thought when a familiar vibration makes him pause.

His breath catches in his throat as he turns his wand towards the source. It’s… just like hers. He scrambles from his seat, rushing towards the vibration at the corner. Throwing open the cabinet door, he pulls out the boxes until he’s able to reach the one he’s needing. He tears his way into the box, shoving aside the various knick knacks and trinkets until his whole arm shoots up with magical sparks. 

There, in his hand, is a journal. He slowly picks it up and cradles the leather-bound journal in both of his hands as if it were a delicate, priceless jewel. He laughs, almost manically. This is it. It had to be. 

Footsteps approach the door to the archive and Ominis can’t spare any more time in rejoicing. He shoves the journal into his coat pocket then he grabs a random object in the box to hold. 

The door flies open and Mother storms inside. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” She exclaims as she strides over to where he is. 

“What does it look like I’m doing, Mother?” His reply is calm and level. 

She stands above him and snarls, “It looks like you’ve made a mess of things in here.”

Ominis places the artifact he’s holding into the box and rises up. He’s practically eye level with her and he doesn’t back down from her scornful gaze. He feels her take a step back. 

“H-How did you even get in here?” She questions in a quiet voice.

“I made a copy of the key, obviously,” he replies with a smirk. 

“You…,” she falls silent. “You… insolent little child!” 

The air parts and the sound of skin hitting skin rings in the air. His cheek blooms in a heated flame and he registers the pain which accompanies it. He turns his head back towards her, unphased. 

“If you’re done, I’ll take my leave,” he says in an eerily calm tone. 

He doesn’t wait, but instead brushes past her and heads out of the room. He hears her calling his name, but her cries fall on deaf ears. Once in his room, he’s quick to write to his love - informing her of his finding and his soon to be departure. His hand shakes as he commands the quill to write, giddy to be with her once again. As soon as his owl takes flight, it doesn’t take him long to have his bag packed. 

Before he leaves the room, he goes back to his desk. So many memories, tucked away - and likely to be burned once he leaves. He sits back at the desk, reaching into the drawer to find the protruding piece of wood. He opens the secret compartment to grab what he’s kept hidden for so long. 

He holds the ring delicately in his fingers. The cold metal is intricate with stones inlaid within the band to accent the well-sized jewel at the center. He’s sure it’s a beautiful piece of jewelry. A frown comes over him at having left it here in the first place. Aunt Noctua gave it to him before she left - believing he needed an heirloom for himself since he was bound to not receive any. 

Aunt Noctua made him promise to keep it safe. At the time, he was so angry with her leaving him that he threw it in the garden. Cimsy was the one to place the ring on his desk one afternoon, polished and clean of dirt. He hid it in the desk after. Feeling over the ring, a smile starts to form on his lips. He tucks the ring into his pocket then he’s out of his room. 

It’s Cimsy which awaits him in the main entryway. He makes out her figure hunched over, scrubbing at the floors. Cimsy looks up to him and stops her cleaning efforts.

“Oh, young Master,” her eyes drift over him and she gasps. “A-Are you leaving? So soon?”

Ominis sets his suitcase down and kneels down to be closer to the house elf. 

He nods, “I’m afraid I am. I’ve… gotten what I came here for. And I don’t know when I’ll return. If… I’ll return,” he sighs. “I never gave you a proper goodbye last time, Cimsy. I would like to give you one now.”

He holds out his hands and Cimsy places her wrinkled ones in his. He holds her hands with a soft smile.

“You’ve always been kind to me, Cimsy. Thank you. For all you do. And I wish you the best,” he whispers. 

Cimsy squeezes his hands, “Cimsy lives to serve the Masters of the Gaunt family. Cimsy is proud of the young Master. Cimsy… wishes you well, young Master.”

Ominis squeezes her hands once more before he stands. He grips his suitcase and wand. 

“Goodbye, Cimsy,” he says as he heads towards the grand double door. 

Just as he flicks his wand to open the door, frantic footsteps rush towards him.

“Ominis!” Mother practically cries. “Y-You’re leaving? You’re leaving me!?” 

Ominis feels the breeze of the mid-morning air hitting his face. The sun is just out of his reach. 

“I am,” he says without turning to face her.

“But, you can’t leave me, Ominis. You need me,” she sobs loudly, the sounds twisting his heart. “If it was because of earlier, I’m sorry. But, you know better than to make such a mess! And to sneak in without my permission-, you’ve never been so disobedient! What was I to do?” 

“I know. And I apologize for doing such,” he states flatly. “But, my time here is done.”

“No!” Mother hisses as she snags his arm, her nails digging into his flesh through is clothes. “You don’t get to decide when you’re done. You have duties to fulfill. Obligations and responsibilities. You are my son!” 

Ominis closes his eyes, sighing to himself with pinched brows. He turns his head towards his mother.

“I’m leaving. And you can’t stop me.”

Yanking himself free, his first step forward is met with her sharp gasp, then the next is a wailing sob, but once he’s in the sun he’s all but free. Going down the steps, Mother cries out.

“Ominis! Ominis!” Mother’s voice is all but a screeching wail, and it sends shivers down his spine at how angry and desperate she sounds. “You can’t leave me! You need me! I love you. I’m the only one who loves you! My little boy! Come back to me! Don’t do this to me, Ominis!” 

Ominis can’t stop smiling. There was a time when he believed her words to be true - that no one would ever truly love him. But now, he knows it to be nothing more than empty words meant to chain him. And as he steps through the gate, the weight of those chains all but fall as he continues towards the ones who truly love him. 

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

BONUS

She’s putting up the dishes from breakfast when a letter lands on the table. A notable Slytherin crest seal gets her attention. Nearly shattering the plates as she drops them, she rips it open. She’s just reached the end when Sebastian calls out.

“It’s Ominis!” 

She’s out the door, finding him walking towards the shop with a bright grin on his face. 

“Ominis!” She grins as she rushes towards him. 

“Good morning, my-,” 

He’s nearly tackled to the ground by her as she throws herself into him. Her arms wrap around his neck and he laughs as he drops his suitcase to embrace her. 

“I missed you,” she whispers in his ear, making him hold her tighter.

“And I you,” he whispers back.

She slowly releases him, her hands cupping his face, “Oh, Ominis. You look exhausted.”

Worry bubbles in his chest - stemming from her. He holds her hands, an action he’s been dying to do since he left, and he smiles.

“I’m alright. I promise.”

“Ah, there’s the heroic knight, back from his adventure,” Sebastian grins as he joins them. “Well, have you come back with anything?”

She releases him and steps back while Ominis reaches into his jacket pocket. Producing the journal, she gasps.

“It’s… glowing,” she whispers. 

“It is?” Sebastian questions. 

“It’s protected by Ancient Magic. It’s how I found it in the first place,” Ominis states as he hands the journal to her.

“Wait, you found it because of the Ancient Magic?” Sebastian wonders. “Does that mean you can ‘see’ it like she can?” 

“I believe I may be able to sense Ancient Magic, yes.”

The journal clicks open and she looks up to Ominis with wide eyes, “Amazing. I… I’m happy you were able to find something.”

Ominis gives her a warm smile, but his tired eyes only make her frown. She grabs his hand, motioning for Sebastian to take the suitcase.

“Here, come inside. Are you hungry? I can make you something. Then you should rest,” she says while tugging him inside. 

“I wouldn’t mind some toast and tea. Then a nap wouldn’t hurt.”

Ominis sits at the kitchen table, enjoying the warmth of the sun as it filters through the window. He hears her as she bustles about the quaint kitchen, bringing him toast, eggs, and fruit along with his tea. He laughs to himself, but he can’t say he doesn’t mind the attention. Once he’s eaten he heads to her room upstairs, barely able to change himself out of his clothes into something more comfortable before collapsing. 

His eyes are heavy, and the soft knock at the door startles him. 

“Come in,” he says.

She steps into the room, walking towards him as the door shuts softly behind her, “Is there anything I can get you?”

He chuckles, “No, my dear, I’m quite alright,” he turns towards her then holds out his hand, “But, I wouldn’t mind if you laid with me. At least, until I fall asleep.”

She doesn’t hesitate to take his hand and she crawls into bed to lay next to him. Her lips are on his in another second, and he hums in both surprise and approval. His fingers are quick to tangle in her hair and he smiles into her eager kisses. When they part, it’s a soft sigh. He traces over her cheek with a warm smile. 

“I missed you,” he whispers. 

“And I missed you. Terribly,” she whispers just as quietly back. Her fingers brush his hair from his temple and he closes his eyes at the gentle touch. “I love you.”

A thrill shoots up his spine and his brows pinch. He opens his eyes to direct them towards her.

“Can you… say that again?”

She lets out a gentle laugh, kissing his cheek, “I love you, Ominis.” 

A whimper escapes his lips and he presses his forehead to hers, brushing their noses together. 

“I could go on about all the things I love about you, Ominis,” she strokes his cheek with a smile, “Shall I tell you?”

What his words could not say, his pleading eyes did. 

“I love your smile,” she says while kissing the corner of his lips, “I love your gentle touch,” she kisses his palm, “I love your laugh, and sweet voice,” she kisses his neck, making him gasp, “I love your heart - your kindness and compassion.”

She drifts back up to his face, which is now flushed in a beautiful pink hue. 

“I love your intelligence. Your quick and clever mind,” she kisses his forehead then she lingers just above his lips. “But, most of all, I love how you see me. You love me, for me. You accept me as I am, and encourage me to become better. You see all my flaws, and you still choose to love me. With you, I feel seen.”

He kisses her, his passion coming fully forward. Little whimpers and gasps escape him at her matching his intensity. As their tongues tangle and their breaths grow heavy, he hopes this will be enough to convey how much she means to him.

They slowly part once more with soft smiles and heated faces. He tucks her hair behind her ear, finding the warmth of her closeness slowly lulling him to sleep.

She lets out a content sigh, “Get some rest, handsome.”

Feeling her warmth next to him, it’s easy for him to fall asleep. 

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

They wake up from their nap still tangled in each other’s embrace. The afternoon sun begins to shine into the room, and Ominis tells her of how he found Isidora’s journal. 

“As it turns out, my ancestor was indeed friends with Isidora. She thought it odd that someone would arrive at Hogwarts during their Fifth year. Remind you of someone?” Ominis grins. 

She laughs, “It seems some things never change,” her brows pinch as she hums in thought. “I suppose even us… to a certain extent. Perhaps meeting each other may not have been an accident at all.” 

Her fingers play with his hair in deep thought and she finally whispers,

“Do you believe us to be soul mates? That we were destined to be together?”

Ominis frowns for a moment then shakes his head.

“No. I don’t.”

Her eyes widen, but he continues before she can say anything.

“To be bound by fate, means that we were always destined to be together. That we didn’t get a choice in whether or not to love each other,” he states with a growing smile. “But, I choose to be with you. Me. Not fate, nor destiny. It’s because I choose to love you, and you me. And, I would choose you every time.”

Tears well in her eye for a moment before she giggles, “I’m glad to be chosen by you then. For I choose you too.”

He kisses her and smiles against her lips, “And I’m grateful to be considered yours.”

Ominis sighs, the last of his worries melting away in her warmth. He’s thankful to be here - with her. 

His home.

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

AN: Well... this took forever. But I really wanted to capture the tensions and the 'walking on eggshells' feeling of Ominis trying to navigate around his mother. Idk, i tried lol. Also the bonus is just lil thoughts i had after the fact but I didn't want to expand on them any further than what I had so figured why not just add it to this one LOL

But, yeah I think that wraps up my 5th year stuff. I'll probs post some oneshots/6th year stuff as im writing the BIG 7th year project.

Also, I'm almost at 400 followers which is wild to think about. Was thinking about maybe doing something for it -> but idk what. any ideas would be appreciated <3

Thanks again for reading and feedback is always welcomed <3

[madame-fear]

You Germans disgust me, you should be ashamed of your ancestors. Your language is shit, I despise it. Besides you're a German mixed with an Argie, no worse combination than that.

Man, resentment oozes out of this message 😂 You talk as if you knew me, or my ancestors. I’m sure you are aware that not all Germans in the 30s-40s were linked with the N@zis, right? That most of them ran away from Germany due to the WW2? My family ran away from Germany to other countries, for example...

I’m pretty proud of who I am. I love both Germany, my homeland, and Argentina as my 2nd country. Pretty sure this counts as racism... You must be a sad person to hate on someone you don’t even know. I am not ashamed of anything, or my family. You know nothing about me.

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

"Friday" kiss

Thanks @somethingclevermahogony here!

Rules: post an excerpt in which there is a kiss! Platonic, romantic, familial, or otherwise, quick peck or make out session, doesn't matter!

I actually have one kiss in TSP and I posted that last time! SOTL has 0 so far.

Anyways, pulling in from a draft I have from IWAJAD that I wrote in high school:

From It Was All Just a Dream (short story version)

I smacked her arm off of me. Noemi spun toward me, jaw dropped in total offense, as if I had cursed her ancestors. “What did you just do?” “Hey, Ty,” I called over my shoulder. “There’s another thing I’ve decided to do.” I turned back to Noemi. “You’re a bitch. Bye!” Ty laughed as I stalked away, matching my pace easily. “That was awesome!” “You won’t get away with this!” Noemi shouted. “I’ll make your lives a living hell, you hear me! A living hell!” “What’s she gonna do?” Ty asked as we walked down the hall. “Spread rumors?” I suggested. “We’ll deal with it when it comes. Besides, she forgets we’re popular, too.” “Guess so,” said Ty. “Are you prepared?” I sighed as we came to a stop outside my history classroom. “I’m not sure. But I’m sick of being...a bully.” “Well,” said Ty, putting his hand on my shoulder, “I’m proud of you.” He leaned down and gave me a quick kiss on the lips. “I’ll see you in second!” “See you!” I said, grinning so hard my face felt as if it would fall apart. Kissing. That was something we hadn’t done in even longer. Mildly flustered, I walked inside the history room, spotting Phinessa at her desk.

I'll go ahead and tag @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @thepeculiarbird @theprissythumbelina @faeriecinna @fairy-tales-of-yesterday @magic-is-something-we-create @forevermagik @finchwrites @writernopal @dyrewrites + anyone else who wants to join in!

[carmenthabaddie]

On a two week fruit cleanse and feeling good. Beyoncé broke the internet and so proud a black woman like her. Trying to figure out how to do social media and get connections and actual followers and good post. Trying to post on Twitter and Instagram less but still post. Woke up pretty positive but sleepy. Getting coaching from the Destiny the confident hoe. Been actually singing more and will make sure I sing more.

Figure out how to do songcovers without them taking sound off my video. But in meantime keep singing along to music. And keep not eating meat for health and spiritual reasons. Need get vegan protein shakes. Keep doing my 40 minute cardio. I’m fine being not famous and also fine being famous. Spirit and ancestors proud of me and everything I’m trying to do. And definitely will help and open doors. I’m blessed. Gone start doing cosplay for fun a creative hobby. I am not a good sex worker or business person. I’m blessed. High as a fuck. Gone keep investing in myself. If you want something believe and invest in it. Still trying to learn to drive. I need extra money to invest to be rich and famous. It’s a new week and feel positive.