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whizzing-fizzbee · 10 hours ago

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Emergency Contact

Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Rating: Explicit 18+, MDNI (smut, profanity), all characters are adults Words: 5,795 Tags: friends to strangers to lovers, post-Hogwarts, 2nd person POV

Summary: You haven't seen or heard from Sebastian Sallow in three years after a falling out splintered your friendship. But a sudden, urgent owl from St. Mungo's reveals he's been seriously injured, and you're still his emergency contact.

Notes: Just a random little one-shot I wrote in two parts so those who want to skip the smut can do so. Part I is plot. Part II is smut. Characters are post-Hogwarts adults.

Read on AO3 or both parts below the cut.

Part I

The moment your body was through the doorway, your shoulders slumped and your shoes were off.

Work had become particularly exhausting as of late. Most recently, your curse breaking career had led you to Albania, where you’d spent two weeks decoding a cursed chest of scriptures found in a coastal cove.

Now, all you could think about was how badly you wanted to crawl into bed and remain for three days. A quick glance at the clock told you it was nearly midnight, so you decided to forego dinner and get straight to sleep.

A brief hot shower and change of clothes and you nearly cartwheeled into bed, cozying beneath the covers until you sighed contentedly.

But as soon as you squeezed your eyes shut, a rapping against your bedroom window jolted you upright.

“Not now,” you groaned as you spotted a small brown owl hovering outside the glass. You begrudgingly hurled the covers off and pulled yourself out of bed to greet the unfamiliar visitor.

You assumed it was your next work assignment, though you were supposed to have three days between them. But as you snapped the envelope’s seal, you recognized the official logo and letterhead of St. Mungo’s Hospital.

You quickly scanned the scribbles on the parchment, your ears ringing more with each word.

The Ministry of Magic has your name listed on file as an emergency contact for Mr. Sebastian R. Sallow.

We regret to inform you Mr. Sallow was injured while on a Ministry assignment this evening. Please see us at St. Mungo’s Hospital at your quickest and earliest convenience.

Regards, Melinda J. Meadows, Lead Healer St. Mungo’s Hospital, London

Your eyes processed the letter much faster than your brain. But even after you read it no less than ten times, they lingered on one single line: Sebastian R. Sallow.

You hadn’t seen your former friend in three years. All you knew was he was an Auror. The fallout was still raw and real, a cloud of cruel memories that clung to you like smoke on your clothes. You both said things you didn’t mean. You exchanged unfair accusations and low blows meant to sting. But they inflicted much more than shallow wounds; they sank deep below your surface and rooted there, lingering even after all this time.

You blinked away your disbelief and snapped into action. Something terrible had happened to Sebastian, rendering your past differences meaningless. You needed to get to him immediately.

The air inside St. Mungo’s felt anything but still. The hospital’s corridors seemed to hum with an unsettling aura, as if pulsing the walls with life would balance out the death and dying happening inside them.

You approached the front reception desk with fear and confusion, unsure what you were about to learn. Your former friend was hurt, and you didn’t know how grave it was. You were scared for him, despite not having seen him in years.

You were also bewildered. How could you possibly still be Sebastian Sallow’s emergency contact? He clearly had forgotten to update his information since your falling out, but it surprised you. The ties you severed weren’t frayed; they were a clean cut, made with the sharpest knife of finality and reprehension. As far as you knew, Sebastian had no intentions of ever reentering your life.

“Excuse me,” you said feebly to the witch working the front desk. “I- I’m here to visit Sebastian Sallow.”

“Your relation to the patient?”

“Huh?”

“Are you a spouse or family member?”

“I… Neither. But I’m his emergency contact.”

“Let me check his records.”

You rocked back and forth between your heels and toes as you waited impatiently. You realized the hospital was cold and found yourself wishing you’d brought a jacket or sweater… then you felt foolish and guilty for thinking such a thing when your former friend may be gravely injured.

“Ah, I see. Here you are,” the receptionist said as she handed you a visitor badge. “You can go see him. Room 424.”

“Thank you.”

Your pace matched your rapid heartbeat as you hurried through the hospital and took the lift to the fourth floor. The room numbers climbed higher, and so did your pulse. You were about to see him again for the first time in three years. He surely wouldn’t be prepared to see you, nor were you ready to see him.

But you had to. You were apparently the only person he had.

Room 421, 422, 423… you paused as 424 came into view, lingering outside the room. The door was wide open but curtains surrounded the bed. You could see at least two healers inside, bustling about.

Oh god, you couldn’t do this. How could you be expected to? You shouldn’t be here. This wasn’t your place, because you no longer had a place in this man’s life.

You closed your eyes and swallowed, willing yourself for a surge of courage. How could you possibly be such a fucking coward right now, when your old friend needed you? You were once a hero. You saved your entire school from a goblin rebellion. You’d freed numerous creatures from vicious poachers. You looked dark magic in the face on countless occasions. But you couldn’t look Sebastian Sallow in the face now.

You heaved a deep breath, your palms sweating as your feet finally shuffled forward toward the room. You lingered in the doorframe, your eyes scanning the room warily until one of the healers noticed your presence.

“Oh!” she said as she waved you to enter the room. “Are you Mrs. Sallow?”

“What? Oh, no. I’m his emergency contact, though.”

“Well, come in. I’m Healer McCartney,” she said with a smile that didn’t meet her eyes. “I should prepare you, though. He’s in rough shape.”

You nodded. “What happened?”

“From what his colleagues said, sounds like he was hit with a combination of aggressive offensive spells – definitely Sectumsempra and Fiendfyre, and something else… some kind of hex that’s left some nasty scars and skin patterns. We don’t know what it was. He’s lost a lot of blood but he’ll survive,” Healer McCartney explained.

You breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t dead. He wasn’t going to die. That was all you could ask for right now.

“Can… can I see him?” you finally asked. Healer McCartney nodded silently and reached for the curtain. She offered you a grim smile as she yanked the curtain backward.

Your breath caught in your throat. This wasn’t the same man you’d known three years ago. If it wasn’t for those familiar freckles, you’d wonder if you had the wrong room number.

But it was undeniably him. His brunette hair was shorter now, cut into a more refined style than the tousled mop you previously knew. He’d also bulked up a bit, his arms more muscular and his chest broader. He still had those long legs, though they were less lanky and much sturdier now.

He was unconscious and shirtless. You swallowed at the sight – his shirt had been cut away, discarded in a bloody heap on the floor. Bandages now wrapped his torso which was still smeared with blood. Black streaks snaked across his chest and shoulders like trails of smoke, evidence of the sinister hex that had struck him.

“Sebastian,” you whispered breathlessly. Tears pooled in your eyes and you steeled yourself. This wasn’t how you wanted to be reunited.

“I’m going to go fetch the lead healer,” Healer McCartney said. “Wait here. She’ll need some information for you.”

You opened your mouth to tell her you couldn’t provide any information, that you didn’t really know this man anymore, but no words came out. You watched Healer McCartney scurry from the room and returned your gaze to Sebastian. He was breaking your heart all over again.

The end of your friendship damn near destroyed you three years prior. Sebastian lashed out at you over Anne’s treatment. St. Mungo’s was offering a clinical trial on a new experimental potion that might greatly reduce the symptoms of Anne’s curse, but the potential side effects were gruesome.

Anne had been apprehensive about the trial drug, so you sided with her, wanting to respect her wishes. Sebastian became frustrated and insisted there was nothing to lose.

“Nothing but your sister’s dignity,” you’d chided dryly. Sebastian unleashed a barrage of furious and hurtful words your way, and in defense, you hurled them right back. Soon, the argument was no longer about Anne. Years of suppressed declarations and tension erupted from you both, on the topic of everything from your romantic partners to the tragic events of your fifth year at Hogwarts.

The damage was irreversible and you walked out of Sebastian’s life, for what was intended to be for good. This was not supposed to be your reconciliation.

Healer McCartney soon returned with another woman, who introduced herself as Healer Meadows, the person who had owled you.

“Are you a relative?” she asked. You shook your head as you wondered how many times you’d have to tell people you weren’t a spouse or family member.

“I’m… just a friend,” you answered.

“You’re his emergency contact though, yes? You’re the one I owled?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me if he has any health conditions we should know about?”

“N- no? I don’t know.”

“Does he take any potions or medications?”

“I don’t know.”

Healer Meadows gazed at you with clear annoyance.

“Do you know his family medical history?”

“No, both his parents died when he was young. And his sister… she died about a year ago.”

“Is there anything you can tell us about him? Anything about his health we should know at all?”

“No,” you sighed. “Look, he and I haven’t been in contact for three years. I really don’t know what his health is like. As far as I know, he’s healthy.”

“But you were his emergency contact,” Healer Meadows repeated.

“Yes, I know. I’m guessing he forgot to update his information when we… dissolved our friendship.”

“I see.”

“Sorry I can’t be of more help. I just really don’t know.”

“Well, thank you for coming,” Healer Meadows hummed as she turned to examine Sebastian. “We think he’ll make a full recovery. He’s just very weak now.”

“What about the hex?”

“It appears to be neurological,” Healer Meadows explained. “Meaning there may be some nerve damage. We won’t know until he’s awake and moves his appendages.”

“But overall he’ll… he’ll be okay?”

Healer Meadows offered you a thin smile that was likely more of a grimace. “I don’t know,” she answered. “He’ll survive, yes, but we won’t know the extent of his injuries until he wakes up.”

“And when will that be?”

“We’ve given him a sleeping draught and some pain potion. I expect he’ll sleep through the remainder of the night. If you’d like to go home, I can owl you when he wakes up.”

“I’d like to stay,” you said much more forcefully than you’d intended. “If that’s allowed,” you added gently.

Healer Meadows nodded. “Very well,” she said, eyeing you up and down for a fleeting moment. “I’ll have Healer McCartney fetch you a blanket.”

It was nearly 2:00 in the morning by the time you settled into the bedside chair. It was anything but comfy but you weren’t planning on getting much sleep anyway. Once the healers had all cleared out of the room, you gazed at Sebastian in silence.

The tightness in your chest was painful, a menacing, constricting ache that worried you. You hoped you weren’t suffering from some sort of heart attack at the sight of Sebastian’s state, but you also were too worried about him to care.

A sliver of silver moonlight snuck through the wispy white window curtains, casting shadows over Sebastian’s face. You watched as his bare chest rose and fell with his breaths. It was a sight you once adored more than anything.

Your falling out with Sebastian fissured more than your friendship. It unraveled your heartstrings and stole the piece of your soul that was meant to be shared with another human being. You hadn’t been the same since.

You loved Sebastian, more than just friends or kindred spirits, as you called yourselves. You loved him like home; like a sip of hot cider on a chilly evening, or like the sound of the swaying trees when you sailed above them on your broomstick. You loved him passionately, fiercely and unconditionally, but you knew you had to love yourself more.

Because for all the brilliance and blaze that you saw in Sebastian Sallow, there was also a shell of a man, emptied by the cruel complexities of life. Dead parents by age 10, a dead uncle who had never wanted him to begin with, and a dead sister whose life had been cut short by a treacherous curse. Life drained Sebastian of much hope or happiness. Even his eternal optimism couldn’t surmount life’s lashings.

It made him angry and bitter. His temper was short and his moods were thunderstorms that sometimes lingered for weeks on end. His outlook on life became futile. It dragged you down until you also felt his despair, and when he launched harsh, irrevocable words at you, you decided you had to let him go in order to save yourself.

You didn’t want to give up on him. You had been the only one who supported him through everything. But you couldn’t keep killing yourself for a man who couldn’t even see how much you loved him.

“Oh Sebastian,” you whispered as you continued to watch him sleep. “Please, be okay. I still need you.”

By 4 a.m., you finally fell asleep.

---

You startled the following morning at the sound of Healer Meadows bustling around the room. You straightened in your chair and squeezed your eyes open and shut to pull the room into focus. When everything became clear, you froze.

He was awake. He was awake and he was staring at you.

“Sebastian,” you breathed as you scrambled to your feet.

“You’re here,” he croaked.

“Of course, I am. I mean, you still had me listed as your emergency contact, so…” your voice trailed off, unsure how to continue.

“Oh,” Sebastian managed. “Sorry. I guess I forgot to change that.”

“It’s okay,” you said reassuringly. “How are you feeling?”

“Like hell.”

“You look like it, too.”

“Thanks.”

You couldn’t help but crack the faintest smile. Your guard was up but your nerves were starting to melt. He was awake. He was alive. And he wasn't lashing out at you.

A blanket had been tossed over Sebastian, but you could see his bare shoulder, still covered with the hex’s claw marks.

“Your shoulder,” you whispered “Can you move it? Can you feel anything?”

Sebastian nodded. “I can,” he said slowly. “But it burns. When I move, it feels like there’s fire coursing down my arm.”

“We think our alchemists can concoct a cure,” Healer Meadows chimed in. “It’ll take nearly a week, but we’re hopeful.”

Your tense shoulders relaxed at the news. “That’s brilliant,” you breathed. “Thank Merlin.”

Healer Meadows left the room and you could feel Sebastian’s eyes burning into the side of your head. When you finally turned to meet his gaze, his expression remained unchanged.

“Why did you come here?” he asked quietly.

“Because they sent for me,” you answered. It wasn’t the entire truth, of course. You came because you always would, even when Sebastian didn’t want you there.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” you replied softly. “But… I had to make sure you were okay.”

The gates of defense were open now. You were both inviting one another in, with cautious optimism that your past could remain in unspoken territory.

“Well, thank you,” Sebastian said. “I appreciate it.”

But before you crossed that threshold, before you could step back into Sebastian’s life or allow him to do the same, you had to be sure.

“Do you… do you want me to go?” you asked carefully. The answer might kill you.

“No… not unless you want to,” Sebastian said. You could see the familiar traces of vulnerability in his eyes that were once reserved only for you. Everyone else saw Sebastian’s hardened exterior, but you had once peeled back the layers for a glimpse at the softness beneath.

“I can stay,” you said gently. “As long as you want me to.”

And so, you did stay. You stayed as the healers came and went. You stayed as Sebastian’s colleagues came to check on him. You stayed as you shared updates on your lives, swapping stories about your work adventures. You told him about the cursed objects you’d encountered during your travels while he recalled the duel with a cabal of dark wizards that had landed him in that hospital bed.

You stayed with Sebastian, but you had no idea you’d never actually leave again.

---

Five days after Sebastian’s admittance to St. Mungo’s, you found yourself lounging lazily in that same bedside chair. It was like nothing had ever happened.

The two of you joked and teased, laughed about old memories and dipped your toes into nostalgic moments you’d shared. The sharp words you once swapped were cast away and replaced with new declarations of a renewed friendship. You were so happy, you practically skipped through the halls of St. Mungo’s when you came to visit each morning.

This day was particularly exciting, because the potion to heal Sebastian’s shoulder was set to be complete. They’d keep him for another night to monitor the potion’s progress, and then he’d be sent home.

You learned he didn’t live far away from you, in a flat two neighborhoods over. You also learned he lived alone, no romantic partners or other responsibilities.

But you also learned that Sebastian had become a recluse since Anne’s death. When his colleagues came to visit, you spent some time catching up with Everett Clopton as Sebastian slept. Everett was also an auror, and he confided that Anne’s death had dragged Sebastian downward to an alarming, dark place. It left him reckless and impulsive, a familiar version of himself you’d seen your fifth year. You didn’t abandon him then, and you decided you wouldn’t do that now. Sebastian needed someone, and you wanted so badly for it to be you.

“I can’t wait to get out of here,” Sebastian groaned as you beat him at another round of chess.

“I don’t think a change of scenery is going to change the result of these chess matches,” you mused. “I’ll still kick your ass.”

“So you’re still going to come around once I’m out of here?”

“Oh.” Your cheeks flushed. You hadn’t discussed the nature of your friendship now. What if Sebastian was merely using you for entertainment while he was stuck in the hospital? He’d used and manipulated you in the past, back before you became close friends. Could he do it again, even in spite of your history together? “Well, only if you still want to hang out,” you said shyly.

Sebastian snorted, his arms folded across his chest. “Of course, I do,” he said. “I’m not going to spoil our second chance.”

Your mouth became dry instantly, unsure of how to respond to such a declaration. It moved you. It made you want to clap and squeal, or fling yourself onto the bed to hug him. You were back in each other’s lives, but more importantly, you were both committed to staying there.

“In all seriousness,” Sebastian said as he eyed you with a soft sincerity. “I can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am for everything you’ve done here… and how sorry I am for everything I did in the past.”

“Sebastian-”

“I mean it,” he continued. “Life’s been miserable without you and I’ve wanted to make amends for years, but I was tired of tainting you with all my darkness.”

“Maybe I just wanted to be the light to that darkness,” you said softly. “Seb, I’m always here for you. Life’s been cruel to you, but you don’t have to face it alone.”

“I know,” he said, swallowing as if he was becoming emotional. “I know that now. And I swear to you, I won’t fuck it up. You’ve always meant the most to me.”

You smiled and reached for his hand, the first time you’d done so since the day Sebastian arrived at the hospital. You squeezed his hand and he held yours until the healers arrived with the potion.

---

There was an extra pep in your step the following morning. The potion had worked, meaning Sebastian would finally be released from St. Mungo’s. You were going to meet him there and accompany him back to his flat to make sure he had everything he needed.

You’d also put a little extra effort into your appearance that morning. Your hair cascaded over your shoulders in soft curls and you put on your favorite dress and perfume.

It’s not that you’d expected anything to happen with Sebastian. The two of you were merely friends again, and you’d told yourself you were okay with that. Simply having Sebastian back in your life was enough. Still, you wanted to look pretty.

Your shoes clacked against the marble floors of St. Mungo’s as you made a beeline for room 424. You’d been there so many times that week, you could walk that route with your eyes closed. But when you reached the door, you stopped dead in your tracks.

The room was empty and the bed was vacant, its linens stripped completely. You caught Healer Meadows in the corridor from the corner of your eye and hustled after her.

“Healer Meadows, where’s Sebastian?”

She turned to look at you in confusion. “He was released first thing this morning,” she said. “Surely you knew that.”

“I only knew he’d be released today,” you replied. “I… I thought I was supposed to meet him here.”

“He was awfully eager to get home,” Healer Meadows said with a shrug. “Perhaps try there.”

But you didn’t go there after you left the hospital. Your insecurity reared its ugly head, suffocating all of your logic and reasoning.

What if Sebastian lied? Maybe he didn’t actually intend on maintaining your friendship. Maybe he changed his mind and decided you weren’t worth the time and effort. Maybe you simply didn’t mean that much to him.

So you headed home, walking instead of apparating to clear your head. But by the time you reached the front door to your townhome, tears had stained your cheeks. They blurred your vision so much, you didn’t notice the figure sitting on your front steps.

“Sebastian?” you whispered as you stopped. “You’re here.”

Sebastian scrambled to his feet. “I couldn’t wait to see you,” he admitted. “They released me from the hospital first thing, but I didn’t want to wait around for you to arrive. I was hoping you’d still be here by the time I arrived.”

“Oh,” you said stupidly. “I just left the hospital.”

“I figured,” he said as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry for making you make the trip.”

“It’s fine,” you said as you breathed a soft laugh. “Do you want to come inside?”

“I’d love that.”

Sebastian followed you quietly as you unlocked and entered your townhome. You could hear his footsteps behind you as you led him into the living room, and you smiled to yourself as you realized his tread sounded the same as it had years ago.

“Nice place,” he mused as his gaze drifted around your home.

“Thank you.”

You were met with a mutual silence that made you avert your own gaze. Finally, you cleared your throat as you kicked off your shoes. “Can… can I get you something to eat or drink?”

“Oh. Er, sure,” Sebastian answered.

“Tea?”

“That’d be nice.”

He followed you to the kitchen, where you put on a tea kettle.

“So would you like me to come over later?” you asked casually as you gathered a pair of tea mugs from a cabinet. “I can help you get settled back into your flat.”

“I was only out a week,” Sebastian chuckled.

“I know. But it’s been a hell of a week.”

“Too true. But I’m not too worried about it. I’m in no rush to get back there… unless you want to get rid of me, of course.”

“Not yet,” you quipped. “But ask me again later.”

Sebastian smiled at you, and there was something about the way his eyes seemed to call to you that made your stomach flip.

“Well, I’d like to stick around as long as you’ll let me,” Sebastian continued.

“Seb, you just spent an entire week with me. Aren’t you sick of me?”

“On the contrary, it’s not been enough.”

Sebastian took a step toward you. His eyes seemed to cling to every one of your features, and you were certain he could hear your heart hammering in your chest. “Oh,” you said blankly, begging your face to stop flushing.

Everything unfolded in slow motion, yet all at once. Sebastian reached for you, a hand cupping the side of your face. You held your breath as he leaned in, slowly, slowly, much too slowly, until his lips were pressed against yours. It was soft and sweet, but you didn’t want it to remain that way.

You answered with eight years of desperate desire. You clutched the front of his shirt and pulled him harder against your lips until he had to hold your waist to steady you both.

Your lips moved in sync until your tongues battled. It was a perfect duel that left you both panting for air.

Sebastian smirked. “Sick of me yet?”

“Oh, shut up.”

You yanked him into another kiss that set your new status in motion. You were no longer friends. Now, you were exactly who you were meant to be.

Part II (Smut warning)

You don’t know how long you stood there in your kitchen with your arms draped around Sebastian’s neck as you kissed him, but soon, you found yourself sitting on the ledge of the counter with your legs draped around his torso.

Your brain surged with dopamine while your core surged with arousal. Sebastian’s lips attacked your neck, his hands skimming over the tops of your thighs, as your head dipped backward against a cabinet.

Your eyes clung to Sebastian as you watched him slip his sweater over his head. He was quick to notice the way your gaze shifted from lust to concern. You couldn’t help it. The hex had left streaks across his shoulder, angry and red. They looked painful, though Sebastian had insisted he didn’t feel a thing.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly as he watched you study the imperfections across his skin, his eyes wide with concern. “Does it bother you?”

“What?” you breathed. “Sebastian, no. It doesn’t bother me. It just-” Your voice cracked. “It just stirs up a lot of emotion. I’m sorry. I just… seeing you like that in that hospital bed, thinking you might not recover – that we might not recover – it just makes me emotional.”

Sebastian smiled kindly and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “But we’re here now,” he said softly. “And we will recover. You understand that, right? You and I… it’s different this time because we aren’t holding anything back.”

You nodded silently in response and he leaned in to kiss you again. You could feel his lips forming a smile against yours. It reassured you more than words ever could.

Sebastian’s hands drifted to the small of your back, pulling you closer to the counter’s ledge, closer to him. Your thighs instinctively squeezed tighter around his waist until he was lifting you away from the counter.

He whisked you from the kitchen toward the corridor, where he paused to kiss you. “Where to?” he murmured.

“Last door on the left.”

He couldn’t walk fast enough. By the time he ventured into your bedroom and dropped you gently onto the bed, your skin was hot and your brain was buzzing. A mere week ago, you were returning home to this bed set to fall asleep alone. Sebastian hadn’t been in your life and you thought you were content with ignoring his existence.

Now, after everything that transpired, you couldn’t let him go again if you wanted.

Sebastian crawled on top of you, his legs flanking your waist as he placed sweet, gentle kisses along your neck. His hand roamed downward over the curve of your waistline and beneath the hem of your dress. You could feel it skimming your skin until it reached your hip.

“Help me take this off,” you whispered. He helped you shimmy out of your dress and you watched him toss it aside to the floor. Sebastian stilled as he gazed downward at you, his eyes drinking in your bare chest. You, too, had scars and scrapes, battle wounds from all the dark wizards and goblins of your past.

“You’re so beautiful,” Sebastian breathed.

You reached a hand for his shoulder, your thumb tracing gently over the red trails that snaked across his flesh. “So are you.”

Sebastian smiled in understanding and returned his lips to your neck, planting a path of kisses to your shoulders before he found your breasts. You sucked in a sharp breath at the warmth of his tongue over your nipple while his hand squeezed the bump of your hip bone.

As your impatience mounted, you fiddled with the belt of Sebastian’s trousers until it clanked open. You immediately missed the warmth of his body as he fidgeted to kick them off with his briefs, leaving you to face his erection.

You tried to temper your breathing, scared the rise and fall of your chest was exposing your nerves. But as Sebastian leaned in to kiss you again, you became too turned on to care.

You shifted beneath him as the ache in your core demanded attention. Sebastian felt the way your hips rocked and smirked. You watched him with heavy eyelids as he peeled your panties down past your ankles, exposing every inch of your flesh to him.

“Fucking hell,” he hissed as he stared. He positioned himself between your knees until your legs were draped over his shoulders and his tongue was swiping over your slit. You whimpered at his touch.

Your eyes nearly rolled back into your head as his tongue flattened against your clit, nudging at it until your high-pitched whines became breathy moans. Sebastian’s hands explored your body while your own fingers became tangled in his hair. You squirmed beneath him, each panting breath signaling your impending climax.

More, more, more. That’s what you wanted to scream, but your brain remained unable to form words. Instead, your body responded for you, your hips jutting upward until Sebastian’s tongue met you with more force.

You cried out as your legs went rigid, arching your back off the mattress as the force inside you crumbled, sending pulses through your cunt. Sebastian’s tongue continued its assault on your entrance until you whined in protest, your legs slackening and your clit too sensitive for more.

But still, you wanted more. Your pulse raced as you watched Sebastian crawl toward you, his erection bobbing between your thighs. You were still panting in recovery from your climax, but as the tip of Sebastian’s cock pressed against your soaked entrance, you held your breath.

You could swear you felt every ridge as it sank slowly inside you, parting your walls as they stretched around him. Sebastian smiled at you as your chest heaved.

“Relax,” he murmured. “I’ll take care of you.”

You willed the tension to leave your shoulders as you allowed Sebastian to enter you fully. The delicious pressure enveloped your entire body, sending your nerve endings into overdrive. You couldn’t help but squeeze your cunt tighter around him, drawing a groan from Sebastian.

He rocked his hips forward and you moaned. Heaven couldn’t feel this good and hell couldn’t feel this hot. You squeezed your eyes shut as you focused on the friction within your core as Sebastian’s shaft dragged across your walls and his tip pressed into the deepest part of you.

Your fingers sank into his shoulder, leaving tiny crescent nail divots among his scars. If he felt them, he said nothing. Instead, he grit his teeth at your tight heat, his cock nudging you closer to the edge with each snap of his hips.

Sebastian was torn. The sight of your folds swallowing his cock was beyond anything he’d imagined, a vision he wanted burned into his mind forever. But he also felt a desperate longing to be close to you. He wanted to shower your face and lips with kisses while he whispered passionate prose in your ear.

“Seb, please,” you breathed, your eyes still closed tight. “Please.”

The way you begged, the way your flushed face strained in desperation and the way your slickness coated his cock, sent Sebastian into a determined frenzy set on feeling you fall apart for him.

His fingers sank hard into your hips as he drove himself into you, pulling your body toward him with each thrust, leaving the bedsheets clinging to the corners for dear life. You unleashed a series of moans, his cock driving you closer and closer to your peak.

You were desperate to lose control around him, and as you could feel the heat mounting, you waited. The timing had to be right. Finally, as Sebastian’s cock prodded your sweet spot, you forced an exhale until your body relaxed. It sent searing spasms across through your muscles and nerve endings, causing your thighs to quake. Your hips rose upward and you wailed as your walls convulsed hard, surging your climax around Sebastian’s cock.

He swore at the sensation and tumbled over the edge after you, his own back arching as he slammed inside you for the final time, grunting your name as he spilled himself.

He collapsed next to you, sharing the heat from his body with your skin. You rested your head against his chest, your eyes closing as you caught your breath and let your hazy head recover. The room was quiet. You liked it that way; not because you didn’t want to hear Sebastian speak, but because you wanted to relax into the peaceful scene and commit it to memory.

“One thing,” Sebastian finally said as he lazily played with your hair. “Do you want me to remove you as my emergency contact with the Ministry? I will if you want me to.”

Your tired eyes cracked open with a smile. “Whatever for?” you asked. “I can’t imagine anyone else is going to give you this kind of treatment.”

#MDNI #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow fanfic #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow smut #hogwarts legacy smut #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #whizzing fizzbee fanfic

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 days ago

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compos mentis 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, chronic health issues, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a long court case, your mother stays attached to her lawyer, bringing even more contention into your life.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: my head is fucked

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. ��

Andy brings you breakfast in bed. You can't help but feel the guilt rippling off him. All of this is penance on his part.

It's as close to vindication as you'll get. You're mother would never admit what she did, let alone apologise. That's when you see her again. You're not so sure you ever want to.

The world is distant. It doesn't feel quite real. It's like a dream. The edges aren't quite sharp enough and the colours are cloudy.

You look down at the plate and your stomach grumbles out of basic need. You don't have much appetite but your biology is at a constant battle with your mind. You shouldn't be able to breathe but you are, you should take your meds but you don't feel all that different.

A poached egg, whole wheat toast, turkey bacons, and thick greek yogurt with fruit. It's all very healthy but a bit more than you would eat, when you feel up to it. Your breakfasts are a hard-boiled egg or a small cup of hot oats and milk.

"I hope it's okay," he hovers at the foot of the bed. He's dressed already. You're less than put together. You're still groggy from a grief-laden sleep and the hangover of the bitter revelation. You wear his borrowed shirt and gym shorts, your messy hair untamed despite your efforts.

"I called in to the office. I don't think I could focus of I tried," he explains. "And there's too much to be done here."

"There is?" You nibble the toast.

You'd hoped for some time alone. Not to think, just to be. You're still lost in all of this. The anger, the hurt, the regret, the confusion, and shame...

"Sweetie, you don't have any clothes. I have a spare toothbrush for you but it's a travel one from a hotel. And you'll need everything else, right? Soaps and whatever."

"Oh, I... I don't... my mom has all my money..." you utter and deflate again. You put down the toast. Your stomach is roaring but you just want to puke again.

"I'll deal with that. Don't worry. She's not as clever as she thinks." He puts his hands on his hips. He does that when he's upset. He used to argue with your mom and stand like that. "Please, eat. Your clothes should be dry soon."

"My clothes?"

"I threw them in the wash for you--" his sentence is punctured by the doorbell. His jaw ticks. "I'll deal with that. Probably Mrs. Potter trying to give me more casserole."

He leaves and you put your focus on the plate. You shouldn't just eat because you're hungry, you should eat because he went to all this effort. You pick up a slice of toast and break through the soft yolk.

You eat deliberately. Chewing slowly, methodically. A shrill yowl tightens your throat around a swallow. You know that shriek.

You carefully slide the tray forward and balance it on the legs as you angle out from beneath. You go to the window and try to see past the eaves and awning. You can't. Only the police cruiser and a familiar car...

You listen. The noise wafts in from the bedroom door. You follow it and peer down at the front door. It's muffled but clearly coming from the porch.

You twist the handle nervously and open the door a crack. You can't see past Andy as he stands staunchly on the mat, arms crossed. You glance an officer's belt with the radio attached and your mother's snarl lashes you like a barb.

"He has my daughter. She's sick--"

"She's an adult," Andy insists. "I'm not holding her against her will."

"She can't-- I am her legal guardian. She can't be here on free will, genius."

"Ma'am," a stern female voice warns. "Sir, where is the daughter?"

"She's sleeping." He lies.

You let the door fall inward. You don't want to be in trouble. No one seems to notice. You stall and shiver on the threshold. It isn't cold, you're just scared.

You make yourself step out. There's not much room. As Andy stands like a wall. You peek around him.

"Hi," you murmur.

"My baby," your mother throws her hands up and comes forward. Andy moves to block her. "You can't keep me from my girl-- where is her oxygen? Officers, she needs air!"

“No, I don’t,” you say, quiet but firm.

Your mother flinches but doesn’t relent, “he��s manipulated her. I can call the doctor right now and you’ll see. She hasn’t been without her tank in years. She could die--”

“That’s not true,” you murmur.

“Ma’am,” the female officer warns. “Let her speak.”

You look around with wide eyes, taking in the full scene. Andy stands just behind you, you can hear him exhale. A male officer is on the other side of your mother. You open your mouth then shut it.

“Sweetie,” your mother reaches for you and you shy away.

“Alright, Jackson, you stay here, I’m going to talk to her. Alone,” the female officer says. She reaches out and waves you to her delicately. “You wanna come with me? We can talk. Just you and me.”

You gulp and look at Andy. His blue eyes blaze as he meets your gaze. He dips his chin slightly. You turn back and nod. As you cross the porch, your mother tries to latch onto you. The other officer, Jackson, pulls her back.

You sidle past her and follow the woman. She takes you to the curb. You look down at your bare feet then at her.

“I’m Officer Patel. What’s your name?” She asks.

You answer and she shifts so you can’t see the house. “Me and my partner came because we got a call about a possible abduction. We’re just here to hear the full story. What’s going on here?”

You rub your neck and fidget. You can’t tell her the truth. Not the full truth. You can’t tell her your mom lied to you. Not even that she hit you. You don’t want to go back to court. You don’t want to tell everyone how stupid and pathetic you are.

“I’m here.... because I want to be,” you shrug.

“Your mother says there was an argument.”

You chew your lip, “she couldn’t find her pills. She left. I don't know... I don’t know why she came back.” Your chin trembles and you clasp your hands on your shirt hem. You sway back and forth. “She doesn’t love me.”

You hang your head. That’s it. What you always knew deep down. What’s so clear now that she’s ground you into dust. You’re nothing to her so she made you into nothing at all.

“She’s your mom, I’m sure you two will work this out. Me and my partner are just making sure you’re safe. We were told that man is keeping you here without consent.”

You flinch and shake your head furiously. You wave your hands, “no, no. Andy... Andy helped me and... I shouldn’t be here because... because... because I’m a loser and.... my mom... my mom...” you stutter. “She doesn’t want me.”

“She says you’re sick? You need oxygen?” She prompts.

You twiddle your fingers. “No, not really. Not... all the time. I can breathe, see?”

She watches you, “right. How old are you, miss?”

“Twenty-four.”

She nods. “You’re not a minor?”

“No,” you blurt out. Many assume as much, especially with you always hiding behind your mom. “No, I’m an... adult.”

“Do you want to press charges against anyone?”

“Charges? For what?” You wonder.

She sighs. “You’re free to go. You’re grown up and you can make your own choices without mom.” She tuts and turns to look across the lawn, “Jackson, come on.”

You peer over. Andy stands, arms crossed, staring at you. Your mother rears like a snake, muttering under her breath. You head back up the walk and Officer Patel speaks again.

“You have to leave, Ma’am.”

You stop and peek over your shoulder. Patel points to your mother, “we will escort you if need be.”

Jackson looks at her. She snarls and stomps her foot, “oh don’t you even think of touching me.” She huffs and storms past him. She comes down the steps and you think for an instant, she might push you. She stops beside you. “I took care of you, sweetie. Do you think he will for long? After he figures out what you are?”

She continues past you. You continue up the paved squares and past Officer Jackson as he follows. As you come up to the steps, you hear the engines turn over. You’re suddenly very tired.

“Andy,” you drag your feet over the mat. “I want to lay down.”

“Alright, honey. We’ll sort everything out later,” he turns and stretches his arm across the door frame as you enter.

He shuts the door as you stagger on, eyes hazy with tears. Your own mother despises you. She’s right about him too. He’ll hate you one day but you don’t know what to do to change any of this.

💙

Andy makes you finish breakfast before you lay down. He’s right. It’s good for you to eat and you haven’t been doing a lot of that.

You lay down for an hour before you sense him getting restless. You can hear him downstairs. You can’t be lazy. You don’t have any excuses anymore. You’re not sick, just weak.

You make yourself get up and venture downstairs. He’s in the kitchen, flicking through his phone as it rests on the counter. You clear your throat and wring your hands as you enter.

“I’m sorry. I was upset. It’s really stupid but sometimes I just... can’t do anything. Even if I try. I’m sorry, Andy. I’m... so sorry.”

He faces you and his face contorts in a spectrum of emotion, “oh, honey, you don’t need to be sorry. I put your clothes on the couch for you. Just waiting. Take your time.”

“Waiting for me,” you frown and look at the floor. “My mom lied. A lot. But I don’t think she was wrong about everything.”

“What do you mean?” He shifts closer.

You shrug, “me. I’m... I’m useless.”

“No,” his voice hardens. “No, take it back.”

“What?” You pout and bat your eyes as you peek up at him.

“You’re not going to talk about yourself like that. Not with me. So take it back.”

“Oh, I’m sorry--”

“Apologise to yourself,” he insists staunchly. “Honey, don’t let her control you. She’s gone.”

“But... but...”

“You’re adjusting. I understand that. I’m not expecting you to be okay right now. Be patient with yourself. Be patient with me. We’re both... figuring this out.”

You nod and your lips twitch. You could cry.

“Thanks, er, I’ll... change then. Um, Andy... are we going somewhere?”

“Sure, sweetheart. I mentioned earlier, didn’t I? About clothes? I tried to get the officers to agree to an escort to go to your mom’s but you saw her. She’s not in her right mind,” he explains.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” you flutter your fingers nervously and he looks down at them. You clasp them over your chest to make them stop. “I’ll hurry up then.”

You turn and scurry out. You go into the front room and grab the neatly folded clothes. He keeps everything so tidy and in its place. You go to the bathroom and set it on the counter.

As you take your panties from between the jeans and tee shirt, you hesitate. It’s a bit embarrassing to think of him washing your underwear. You could’ve done it if he showed you where the machines are.

You shrug it off. You’re just happy he helped. It’s a nice feeling when people do things for you.

You change and bring out the borrowed clothes. Andy is still in the kitchen. You stand in the doorway.

“Where do I put these?” You ask.

He pops his head up and tucks away his phone, “oh, I can take care of them.”

“Thanks, Andy, but uh, could I see? I’d like to know where everything is so I can help.”

“Help?” He approaches and takes the clothes, his hands brushing over yours. “With what?”

“I don’t know, everything?” You say. “You helped me so much and I want to do the same. I want to be useful. I want to be... better.”

The tension leaves his shoulder and he smiles. “Alright, sure, that’s nice of you.” He goes to step past you then stops. “Sweetheart, you know, your mom is wrong. About everything. You’re an amazing girl. Really, you’re wonderful. And today, I want you to try as much as you can to forget. I want you to feel good about you, because you should. Because you deserve it.”

You swallow and bounce nervously on your feet, “Andy, you’re so nice.”

“I’m just being honest. Should’ve tried that a lot sooner,” he says.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #compos mentis #defending jacob

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enniewritesathing · 3 days ago

Text

Hi, hello, no time no see 👋

This year, I told myself that I was gonna try and put out more poses than I have recently and what better place than to start with remaking my first (big) pose pack -- The Cuddle Sutra. For a minute, I've been wanting to go back and revisit this now that I have a way better handling on making poses (and also with a new rig). Plus, wanted to get the first part out before Valentine's ^^;

Besides, tumblr has very erroneously deleted this and the 3rd part of the series, so they're kind of lost (but they are still in my SFS folder as I don't delete anything) but it is fun to see the comparison and improvements.

(also I don't know why the cat is just there staring at the wall... she's got a lot and nothing going on in her pretty little cat head.)

How many poses?

15! Labeled A/B.

What do you need?

Any Bed!

Notes:

The Eye Bug. Yes, that's still a thing unfortunately -- unless you haven't updated your game before the Lovestruck patch or you have other methods means to avoid this. It's been 7 months at this point >(

There's gonna be some degree of clipping. They're both masc framed and John (the long haired one) is a little meaty (it's Winter in my game and he always packs on 10lbs exactly, that's just A Werewolf thing with him--) with the luumia musclar top (otherwise, he is lean).

I would say that if your sim has a (sizable rack), they'd be better off in the "A" poses.

Every sim body and combination is different, so if there's too much clipping for your liking, you're welcome to edit.

just don't claim it as your own i s2g, i will come over to your house and [redacted] your computer

that's about it unless I'm forgetting something 🤔

🛏️Preview Post🛏️

As usual, feel free to ask me questions, tag #enniewritesathing or @ me! I’d love to see your sims! Don’t forget to like/reblog and check out my other poses!

TOU: Have some common sense and decency. I implore you.

🚫No claiming as your own, no editing/reuploading (editing for personal use is very fine), no putting it behind a paywall.

All for the low, low price of ⭐FREE!⭐ (omg! and no ads either? holy shit!)

💤[SimFileShare] // 💤[MediaFire]

Thank you, @alwaysfreecc, @ts4-poses, @sssvitlanz

#ts4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 #simblr #ts4cc #s4cc #ts4 poses #s4 poses #the sims 4 poses #sims 4 poses #oc: john #oc: brian #oc pair: healing hands #my cc

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nightwingsgypsyrep · 3 days ago

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So I definitely feel like I will be adding to this post quite a bit, and this first addition is coming after @jjohnnyutah’s fantastic reply, which kinda summarised the history a bit more.

As I said earlier, I was really umming and aahing about making this post, because I’m still new to a lot of the comics, so this was really inspired by what I have been able to get my hands on (literally… I started out borrowing my friend’s comics last year) whilst I’m slowly making my way through what’s available online. As it is, you can probably see that I was able to read more of the modern stuff than the older stuff so far. I didn’t really want to make a post until I had read more but hey I’m adhd as hell and intended to just make a small one in reply to the tags and it spiralled from there. I did try to find some info of what I missed online but apparently that left out a lot! So this post is gonna have constant updates of me doing a DC and retconning stuff as I learn more.

So, anyway, jjohnnyutah’s reply addressed a couple of things. Firstly was Mary’s origin as a dental hygienist, rather than being from the circus herself originally. Can’t lie, I actually love this for her. Is it super unusual from a how-gypsies-work perspective? Sure. But like I say, a lot of my cousins are Diddakois, and I kinda love the idea of Mary coming into the fold, when just as often, the gypsy partner ends up leaving it. Of course, there’s nothing to say for sure that Mary did not have Romani ancestry (like I say, in the N52 modern stuff, she was friends with other Romani characters, so she wasn’t completely unfamiliar with the Romani sphere) - I, myself, am a gypsy with a degree, so it’s not exactly like getting a different job cancels your Gypsy Card. Although I do really love the idea of Mary being a gypsy and working as a dentist for the simple reason that, although attitudes to education have greatly improved in recent years, my family would have lost their shit if I got my degree twenty years ago, as it would have been seen as ruining my prospects. So from a feminist perspective, I really love the idea of Mary having at least some Romani heritage too.

The other is Dick not knowing much about his heritage and wanting to learn more, and let me tell you, I feel that. Even growing up surrounded by it, my dad’s side of the family never told me anything. I didn’t even get confirmation of how many siblings my grandmother had until she died. My mum’s side was much more forthcoming. Like I say, I’ve had a lot less opportunity to read the (let’s face it) better older stuff so seeing what I have of it, it seemed more of a given that Dick knew something. The reason for this presumption was mostly of how much Romani he’s seen to know even early on?? As I’ve said on previous posts, in the modern day, Romani is a lot less complete for actual use, so how much he knows is impressive. But yeah, this has just made me so much more excited to continue reading. But at the same time, fully expect another post from me six months from now when I’m more caught up calling myself an idiot. Ta x

Ok so I’ve been umming and ahhing about making this post for a while. I’ve always kinda planned on it, but seeing these tags on a previous post of mine (no hate to this user) made me want to post something now. It’s also gone 3am. So it’s not really going to be very clean and tidy, and will probably be a bit rambling, but I can always post a ‘tidy’ version another time.

So! Tackling Dick Grayson’s Romani/GRTSB heritage (warning: it’s a long one)

So, as usual, a few disclaimers: 1) I am not American. 2) I myself fall under the GRTSB umbrella - for clarity, I am from the fairground/circus so a Showman, but my family were simply ‘gypsies’ before getting involved in that in the Victorian period, so I use gypsy/traveller/Showman for myself. I also speak Romani and grew up in the culture and on the grounds. I’m not just talking out of my arse, I promise. 3) I do not pretend to have read every comic. However, this post will be based in things which DC have published (yeah I know it gets retconned every two minutes but hey, I’m working with it), even if some of it is more speculative/Headcanony, it will all be canon-compliant/what makes sense based on my own experiences. 4) That being said, everyone who does in some way fall under the GRTSB acronym will have different experiences and opinions, and all are equally valid and should be respected. 5) I use the term ‘gypsy’ a lot. Where I am from, it is not a slur, but is used almost a catch-all phrase for GRTSB people, by us. We also see Dick use it so I’m going to. I personally don’t mind if people use it (so long as they don’t use it as an insult) but not everyone will feel that way, so it’s always better to ask individuals. 6) this post is intended as a fun exploration of a character whom I relate to based on our shared heritage (when it’s really rare to find characters like that). I’m not trying to dictate to you how you should interpret Dick’s character. You’re welcome to different opinions and interpretations - this is just one of mine! :)

So, first, what is GRTSB? Well, it’s an acronym which covers all aspects of the gypsy/traveller umbrella. It is used in British legislation. It stands for Gypsy Romani Traveller Showman (aka fairground and circus) Boater. Under British legislation, only the first three (Gypsies, Romani, and Travellers) are considered an ethnic identity, whilst Showmen and Boaters are considered a cultural identity.

This is absolutely FULL of problems and has been hotly debated for years, with different people identifying in different ways. People who share the same/very similar ethnic heritage (i.e. siblings, or cousins) can have completely different points of view on what they identify as. As such, don’t take it as gospel - it’s more of a guideline than anything. Especially since a) these groups often intermarry, meaning that someone can be multiple at once; b) if a Showman stops travelling with the fair and settles, they don’t become a non-traveller, because it’s in your blood, not just a job; c) people can trace their heritage back past a particular group - e.g. my own family (circus and fairgrounds aka Showmen) can be traced back to at least the 1600s, before fairs were really a thing - at the time, they simply identified as gypsies. They didn’t stop being gypsies just because they changed their job/founded a circus/fairground. As such, many in my family identify primarily as a gypsy or traveller, and a Showman secondarily, whilst others do the opposite, or identify as just a Showman or just a traveller/gypsy. Like I say, this classification is not perfect, and is hotly debated, especially at the present time.

So, now, onto the subject of Dick Grayson. I included the tags above mostly because of the ‘tell me you don’t know a character without telling me you don’t know a character’, because, firstly, rude. secondly, the poster makes reference to the Golden Age. And yeah, obviously DC aren’t going to make reference to Dick being a gypsy in the Golden Age - do you really expect writers in the 40s to care enough about the nuances of a character’s ethnic heritage, especially a gypsy, at a time when it was still common even in countries like England (where legal segregation wasn’t a thing) to have signs on pubs like ‘no blacks, no Irish, no dogs, no gypsies’ - btw we still get those occasionally? However, if we look at the comics which have been published in the eighty five years since Dick’s debut, we see a lot of references to Dick having Romani/GRTSB heritage. Again, I’m not well read, but in Grayson’s run, at least, we do see Dick speaking Romani and self-identifying as a gypsy (Nightwing #91 btw). So I’m sorry but it is definitely canon that Dick has at least some Romani heritage (since Romani, by culture, is not taught to non-travellers on purpose, and is thus only passed down from parent to child. Hell, even some of my cousins who are half gypsy - Diddakois - don’t know the language!), and the fact that he speaks it and IDs as a gypsy does suggest that this is something important to him and his character. I know that being a gypsy is certainly a big thing to me (with how the world treats us, you have to be proud of it and have it be important to you to make it worth it).

So now we come onto the second part of my rant: wtf is going on with Haly’s Circus.

So, an important bit of context is, what makes a gypsy a gypsy? And the answer to that, in my opinion, is a mix between culture and blood. You can’t be a gypsy (unless in circumstances like adoption) unless you have both. What I mean by that is, if you’ve got one gypsy great great great grandparent, but weren’t bought up with the culture and morals, you have gypsy heritage but are not a gypsy. However, if you are a gypsy and you decide to settle down in a house, work in an office, and never speak Romani again, you are still a gypsy. Similarly, if you suddenly decide to take on the gypsy lifestyle (maybe work on the fairgrounds or in the circus, or go travelling like the New Age lot), you are not a gypsy, because it’s not in your blood - hence why it’s an ethnicity, not a cultural thing really. As such, it is common for there to be a us vs them mentality even with those working on the ground - you have the gypsy/traveller/Showman who tends to own/run things, and then you have hired non-GRTSB staff (traditionally called chaps, but this has fell out of fashion in recent years).

Now, I make this distinction because Haly’s Circus is really odd in that regard.

Most gypsy (or Showmen - like I say, it can be both at the same time) ran circuses and fairs tend to be family affairs. For example, it might be John Doe’s Circus on the tin, but the Smith family (which Mr Doe’s sister married into) will often work with and alongside the Does in the running and operating of the events. Largely, this is on an ownership level, with various relations then owning the surrounding supporting elements (e.g. sideshows, fairground rides and joints, food kiosks). Other family members might then help ‘mind’ the stuff, or you can hire non-GRTSB staff to help.

Now to draw on my own family history: historically, in the Victorian period, etc, it was common for the gypsy family who owned the circus to also perform in it. For example, in my grandfather’s circus, my grandmother was a lion tamer and equestrian performer in parades. They did also hire non-traveller performers, but there wasn’t such a distinct line. However, by the 30s approximately, this had changed to be a more managerial role, with it being more common to have purely hired performers in the main event. The exception here was for sideshows and fairground rides - it is still common today for these to be ran/worked by GRTSB people (e.g. my grandmother did the dookering - fortune telling - and my grandfather did the boxing; today, we still run and operate the rides and kiosks).

However, we know that Haly’s circus was not like that. We honestly don’t know if Haly was a gypsy or not. Also, usually, gypsies have such big families and are surrounded by them, but we know that the Graysons died with no living family (no William Cobb does not count here) and had no relation to anyone at Haly’s. I suppose if you want a canon answer, you could point to how Haly’s was used by the Court of Owls, but it could just be Like That. This is unusual but not unheard of, but still worth pointing out I think. Alternatively, it could originate from one of the non-GRTSB started circuses which were popular around the turn of the 20th century. Since being a gypsy is really tied to your family name and, ethnically, means you have to be born into it - you can’t just start a fair and claim to be one-, even 120 years later, these families are still met with scepticism - they could marry into a 100% gypsy family in 1901, and have all of their descendants do the same, and still the older generation would look at their surname and scoff and say they’re not a real traveller because that one great grandfather 100 years ago was not a born-and-bred traveller. But honestly, I think 100 years is enough to integrate. So, to summarise, Haly’s circus is quite unusual in that it does not appear to be operated by only gypsies/Showmen, even if it still common for circuses not to be performed in by just gypsies.

Now, to answer, how Romani is Dick Grayson?

Like I say, canon does explicitly tell us that he has Romani heritage, placing him firmly within that second category of the GRTSB acronym (and he also identifies with the more general Gypsy identity). However, it’s frankly unlikely that the writers really went in depth with the whole GRTSB thing, so I think we can tentatively suggest that he might have also identified (keyword here being ‘might’ - this is more canon-compliant HC here y’all) as a Showman (called a Carney in the US) because the whole deal with being a Showman is the circus/fairground aspect (but, like I say, it is still a ‘gypsy’ identity as you must be born a Showman, you can’t just sign up, because it is based on a mutual gypsy heritage which predates fairgrounds/circuses, which means it still fits into what we know of Dick in canon. As such, Dick being a Showman is hardly canon, but it is 100% compliant with what we know of Dick in canon). As I’ve said, they are not mutually exclusive. He could ID as both or either, or just prefer the all-encompassing ‘gypsy’.

Now, we also know that Dick is not 100% gypsy (but tbh who is nowadays? I have two non-gypsy great-great grandfathers). Although Dick’s family history is limited, we know that his great grandfather William Cobb was likely not a gypsy (he could be ethnically, it’s not ruled out, he might have just settled, but let’s go for safety’s sake here and just say he’s not). Similarly, his partner was from a wealthy non-gypsy family, meaning that ethnically, their baby (John Grayson’s father) was likely not a gypsy (though could potentially have been a Diddakoi aka a half-gypsy, if we believe William Cobb to be a settled gypsy). However, since this baby still grew up amongst the circus, it is not impossible that he ended up marrying a gypsy, which would make John Grayson half gypsy - aka a Diddakoi. In fact, I would argue that it is even likely, owing to the fact that Dick speaks Romani, and the fact that Romani is only taught to other members of the family, meaning that somewhere in the Grayson family, a Romani speaker had to be introduced. Mary Grayson (formerly Lloyd), on the other hand, probably was Romani/GRTSB herself. I say this, based mostly on her closeness with the OG Richard aka Raptor from Seeley’s run, who was Romani, and the fact that it is really common in gypsy circles to mostly mix with other gypsies, meaning that it would make sense for the pair to meet based on the fact that they were both gypsies/Romani. Therefore, I would argue that even if Dick is not wholly Romani/gypsy ethnically (but, like I say, who is nowadays?), I think there is enough both blood and culturally to make a pretty good case for him IDing as such, and foregoing the need to make any distinction. (Also, especially nowadays when Diddakois are increasingly more common, it’s not even that prejudiced to be a Diddakoi. A lot of my cousins are and you don’t even think to mention it). Aka. He’s a gypsy. Nuff said.

Then, I suppose, the final thing I’ll address is the ‘whitewashing’ issue, or, what I really think is a non-issue.

Sure, a lot of ethnically Romani people are dark skinned. There is a reason why the term gypsy exists. Now, as my grandad will tell you, gypsies originated from Northern India about 2000 years ago, before moving into Europe. However, a lot can happen in 2000 years. There are a lot of people in the UK, at least, who identify as purely Romani who have very pale skin. My family has a real split: my dad’s side of the family is quite dark, and are often mistaken for being South Asian in the summer due to how dark they get when they tan. Meanwhile, he refers to my mother’s side of the family as being ‘poxy and pasty’. My mother is a full-blooded traveller btw, same as my dad (barring their singular non-gypsy great grandad they each had). You just can’t paint everybody with the same brush. Take me for example: I am pale af and take after my mum’s side of the family, but I’ve still got the stereotypical dark curly hair and blue eyes of gypsies (which my boy also shares). Genetics are weird. So whilst I am a big fan of dark skinned Romani Dick Grayson, it’s also still ok and accurate for him to be paler. This does not make him any less Romani. (Like I say, this is all based on my experiences in the UK).

SOOO… TLDR:

Dick definitely has Romani heritage. This has been canon for decades and cannot be taken away from him.

He canonically self-IDs as a ‘gypsy’ (as well as the Romani heritage), and may also be interpreted as being a Showman (even if this is more of a European term) if you want to see him that way, especially since a lot of Showman families (mine included) can trace their families back past the origin of the fairground to when they simply identified as gypsies or Romani (hence why Dick might ID as a gypsy with Romani heritage. Honestly, this is mostly in the realm of canon-compliant Headcanon now)

The GRTSB classification system is a mess y’all and everyone has a different opinion. Just roll with it and don’t get into the debates is my professional opinion.

Being Romani/a gypsy/a traveller/a Showman is something you are born into. You can’t just become one, or stop being one. So, if we presume that William Cobb had no Romani heritage/was not a settled-down Gypsy, even after he joined Haly’s he did not become one. It really is in your blood, and is tied to family.

Haly’s circus is unusual because it’s mostly not a family affair (though points for the Graysons sticking with it and inheriting their roles - that is realistic!). It’s unclear how many of the members of the circus are Romani.

Dick also has non-traveller heritage due to the William Cobb thing. His grandfather, at least, was probably not ethnically Romani (though he might have been half if we want to view William Cobb as having Romani heritage/being a settled gypsy). However, since Dick canonically has Romani heritage, IDs as a gypsy, and speaks Romani (a language which is closely guarded amongst gypsies), it had to come in somewhere. Honestly, I think we can comfortably view him as being at least 3/4 ethnically Romani/a Gypsy, but also since modern Dick Grayson was not born during prohibition, this really isn’t a problem as it’s really common for Diddakois (half gypsies) to be treated as full gypsies nowadays.

As much as I love darker skinned Dick Grayson, it’s not a requirement. A lot of the GRTSB community (especially in Western Europe/Britain/Ireland) are on the pale side. This does not take away from their identity.

So that’s my rant. It’s like 3.30am so it’s probably a complete mess but hopefully it gets down the basics, at least insofar as it relates to my experiences and understanding as a gypsy from the fairground/a circus family. People will probably have different experiences (especially since I’m in the UK). Although I have based all of this on canon, and as such it should all be canon-compliant to my knowledge (I’ve still not read all the comics!), it is also equally based on my experiences, so you may interpret it completely differently. The beauty of Dick’s character is that he has been built up over 85 years, and as such, we have to do our best to interpret what was laid down in the Golden Age by writers with no idea of what Dick’s character would grow to be. As such, canon really is a bit of a sandbox, and this is my own go at it!

If anyone has any questions/wants clarification/notices any obvious contradictions with canon since I’ve not read them all yet, please feel free to point it out! This is not intended to be a lecture/call out post/dictatorship on how you view canon, just a small exploration of my interpretation of a character whom I relate to as a Romani speaking gypsy from the fairground/circus myself.

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grogusmum-writes · 3 days ago

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🚧UNDER CONSTRUCTION🚧

Hi ho, Hazel here!! 💚

After some consideration, I've decided to stop keeping a taglist and go with a fic side blog.

The decision was a long time coming, but it doesn't make sense to spend time making taglists with so little response, and I dont want to bother people who don't want to be bothered. I will continue to tag @pedrostories and other library/archive blogs or those that run them such @littlemisspascal. If you run one and would like to be tagged, just let me know. Y'all are doing the lord's work, and I don't want to make it harder for you.

So, in a nutshell, I will be postin fic updates and new fic on my main blog, and cross posting it here, where you can find it without having to dig through all my other silliness. If you want to follow and set this blog for notifications, you will get a heads up whenever I post anything new.

(I am still working on getting them posted on my ao3 done, too. If you prefer to read there, you can find me under the same - grogusmum.)

Thanks to everyone who has supported and cheered on my writing. 💚💚💚

Before retiring my taglist, I will be using it to make sure past readers know about the change

#fic side blog alert!#hazel's changing things up #grogusmum-writes

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romana-after-dark · 1 hour ago

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Our Gentle Sins: Part 16

Thank you so so so much to @plasticbabies for making this beautiful header!!!! we finally have a good one!

Dark!Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Series Masterlist : Main Masterlist : Logan Masterlist

Spotify Playlist

Follow @romana-updates and click follow, join my tumblr community or ask to join the tag list to keep up!

Buy Me A Coffee : Kofi

Chapter summary: Past. Logan does it. Present. Wade makes a plan.

Warnings: This fic features non con, pregnancy, and themes of religious trauma. I will not be saying everything that happens to warm you, by clicking read more you are prepared for extremely dark themes and that you at 18+. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

EXTRA WARNING: Violence, shown sexual violence again.

3.2k words

Before

Logan tried, he really did try to pay attention as you spoke but it was getting harder and hard. Your biology was calling to him.

The red string of fate tied you and him together, growing shorter and short with every horror the two of you had endured and now, now Logan felt it had come to a close; the string was taught, pulling him to your finale.

“Can we crack a window?” Logan asked, hoping fresh air would allow him some breathing room. Unfortunately, a gust of breeze blew your scent right too him. Logan groaned, a sound almost in pain as he hardened, the animalistic side of him clawing for release. How could he smell you like this, look at you, have you so close to him and not take you as his? Logan wanted to erase every last presence of Mark from your body, from your mind. He could give you what your husband never could. You could give him what Jean threw away.

“Are you okay?” Your brow furrowed looking at Logan as he stood, eyes closed. He looked almost… in pain; his knuckles whitening at his balled fists.

You wouldn’t pretend you understood Logan all the time. He had strange behaviors, did and said things you didn’t get but honestly, it was probably the same for you. Two strange people, possibly sharing a life together.

The way he respected you needing time only endeared him to you more, and you know most of your friends considered you dating already. Seeing the joy on Kurt’s face made you want to say yes, yes you were together, you were in love, it was your happily ever after. But time was what you needed. It hadn’t been more than 6 months since you left your husband, and in a strange way you were still mourning his death.

It wasn’t a true loss, not in the way you knew was normal. You hated him, but a part of you loved him. Really, it had little to do with Mark; you mourned your parents too. Remy said it was because you held so much love in your heart.

‘I wouldn’t blame you if you weren’t sad, pistache, but I’m not sure dat would be you.’ Remy assured you it would go away, the way you missed the people who had been staples in your life. ‘But for now, allow yourself to feel. You have so much love in your heart, you feel so deeply, it makes sense you miss dem. De were ya whole life, the good and da bad.’

You’d been married to Mark 7 years, of course you missed him in a sense, especially when you had nearly no life outside him, no friends. He was your whole world, and things weren’t always bad. There were more good times than bad, which always made that bad so much worse. Charles said there would be complicated feelings, and assured you they were no thought crimes, there was no wrong way to feel.

“Lo, how about you sit down?” He looked pale, it was worrying you. Taking his large hand in yours and walk the few steps to the bed. “Do you want me to call Hank? Or Jean?”

Logan’s eyes snapped up to yours, alight with a fire that made you nervous. “Do not call Jean.”

A familiar nervousness flooded your system, the type of anxiousness that settled into your stomach and screamed fawn, fawn, fawn. Something in your head said get out, but why? It was Logan. Just Logan. Your Logan.

He was hurting your hand.

“I won’t call Jean…” You spoke softly, as if trying to placate a wild animal, and it worked. His eyes softened, and although he looked no less sick he abruptly dropped you hand.

“You should go.”

This made you frown. “Do you want me to get help?”

He shook his head. “No, no, I just- Dolly, you should go. I’m fine just, listen to me.”

But you were stubborn as you were scared, determined to figure out what was happening. He worried you, you didn’t like to see him in pain.

You step forward, and you swear you hear him growl. “Logan?”

Logan snatched your wrist, yanking you between his legs and trapping you. Your whimpers mean nothing when you're thrown onto the bed, Logan crawling on top. You can feel his erection through your dress and your stomach lurches, but when you try to push him you find you’re practically nothing under him.

“Logan, what are you doing?”

“Need you.” He leans in for a kiss and god help you but you kiss him back, trying to calm him, give him a little to hold him over.

“Logan, please get off, y-your scaring me. We said we’d wait, right?”

He said he’d wait. He’d wait. He’d wait for you because he loved you and you loved him and he would have you but he just had to-

“WAIT!” With all your strength you shove at him, attempting to maneuver the little room your body had to get out. You were determined to not make this easy; you refused to let Logan ruin your relationship with him.

But Logan was too much, dropping the full weight of his body onto you and knocking the air out of your lungs. While you’re distracted, you take both on your wrists into your hand and wrenches them back painfully far, his lips on your covering the scream in pain. Finger digging deep bruises into your wrists and you feel yourself giving into the pain,

“That’s it, baby doll, just relax… let me in…” Hand pinned above you, slightly less painful now that you stopped fucking but a bruising grip still there, Logan’s other hand undoes his belt and you know whats happening.

Falling. Drifting. Weightless on the bed you try to not go rigid. It’d only hurt more if you did, you knew from experience. He gets what he wants. He always does. They always do. You’re just a tool to them, something for men to use in their own little ways. The tears come, Logan’s gentle hand cups your face with a tenderness so different from the way he breaks you open on himself, cooing your name as if that would make it better.

Logan is just like Mark.

Just like your father, who while never touched you was complacent in the horrors that happened. Your father, who probably did the same to your mom, who was grooming your brothers to not ask, just take.

You think to the men in your life because it’s easier than thinking about what Logan is doing to your body; you vaguely feel touches, but if you take your attention away, you learned from being with Mark you could leave your body behind.

Were they all like this? Scott, with his strict moral code, would he take you given the chance? Kurt was religious too; if you’d married him, would he feel entitled to your body? Did Charles think you owed him? Pietro, Hank, Warren, Bobby, was it all just a matter of time and chance?

Would Remy eventually think his friendship meant he was owed you? Remy, sweet Remy who’d been your rock all this time, did he want you this way, and would he take it given the opportunity?

Were you destined to be at the mercy of men your whole life?

“Please don’t cry, dolly, please?” Logan’s voice brought you back to reality, his face nuzzling you and you’re forced to reckon with the pain between your legs. You felt naked, even with the dress still on; a vulnerability you wanted to share with Logan but not like this. Like this.

“Please stop…” You whisper to him, and even as he ravages your body you reach up to hold his face. Your eyes hold his blue ones, pleading. “We can forget this, you don’t have to do it like this, we can-”

“Oh Dolly…” Logan’s movements slow, sympathy melting into you and for a moment you think it’s over, that you can put this behind you. He kisses your nose, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry…”

“Lo-”

“There’s no going back after this.”

After

“You know I gotta tell Charles, right?”

Logan just huffed out a scoff. “Scott’s been telling him for months, if he didn’t believe slim, he’s not believing you.”

Wade couldn’t sleep all night, echoing over everything Logan said to every, everything confessed.

Wade never claimed to be a good guy, not really. He wasn’t a hero, wasn’t even an anti-hero, like that one terrible Taylor Swift song. If he was a Taylor Swift song, he’d be Lover, given his skill to get his lovers screaming. Or Bad Blood. That too.

Anyway, he doesn’t have to explain it to you, dear reader, only so much time can be spent fleshing out a character in short form media such as fanfiction when said character is already established in a franchise. You’ll forgive his inner monologue if it just scurries along.

He wasn’t what they call “morally pure” by any means, but Wade wasn’t a rapist, and he didn’t hit innocent women, nor is he the kind of guy to just allow it. Like a serial killer in a prison murdering child molesters, even he had a line.

Problem was, he was too evenly matched with Logan. He couldn’t do this by himself.

That’s why Scott was standing in the hall, having been rudely interrupted by Wade banging on his door at 5 AM, standing in his PJ’s and sleep mask. “Professor doesn’t believe me. My wife doesn’t believe me, so much so she’s sleeping in another room. It’s useless.”

“So what? You’re just gonna fucking leave her with Logan to get beat and raped again? What about the kid? That’s not very dime store captain america of you.”

Scott shot him a look. “Look at me, Wade. You look at me and tell me I’ve given up on this.” he looked… rough. Even his dick sucking lips looking less supple than usual. “My life is fucking falling apart because I won’t give up, I just don’t know what to do.”

“KILL HIM!”

Wade found himself slammed against the wall, mouth covered and Scott looming over him.

“You think I don’t want to?”

“You’re not gonna win, bub” Logan looked at Wade’s hand itching for baby knife. “Even with your guns and swords, you can’t win. You know this.”

“No, I can’t. But Scott can.” Wade watched Logan’s eyes narrow, and he knew Logan didn’t know the times him and Scott fought… Scott was holding back.

“If I kill him without evidence, I’m no better than a lawless vigilante!”

“You suddenly in your booklicker era?”

Scott shoved off of him. “I’m not saying that, I’m saying-”

“Xavier sanctioned killings only, huh? Well, I hate to break it to you pretty boy but he’s too busy jerking off to the idea of world peace to notice the shit tone of stress that’s gotta be radiating off Judith’s head!”

He rubbed at his temples. “Wade, listen, you don’t get it. I need more than just me wanting him dead. I’m not immune to biases, I’m aware.”

Wade groaned, stomping his feet like a child. “I am here telling you-”

“You’re not exactly the voice of reason here, Wade.”

“So if I get a voice of reason, you’re in?”

Wade sat in an office, one he chose specifically for the swirly chair he now used to look out the window. When the door opened, Scott bringing Remy, Wade whirled around.

“I bet you’re all wondering why I’ve gathered you here tod- God dammit! What’s the twink doing here?”

Scott brought in Remy, but also Kurt, Logan’s OTHER best friend.

“Kurt’s going to have the most generous opinion, I need something to counter the everything about you.”

Wade feigns offense, his hand to his chest as he gasps. “Moi??? Well, if I’m the devil on your shoulder, I thought this sweet little buttery bouillon cube was meant to play the angel.”

The cajun laughs, but not without a hit of nerves. “Remy has been called a lot of things, but rarely an angel, Angel.” he gives a little wink, then settles into something more serious as he fidgets with his playing card, moving them from one hand to another. “Is someone gonna tell us what de ‘ell is ‘appening?”

Scott borderline ignored him, addressing Kurt to Wade. “Kurt is one of Logan’s only friends in the mansion, I needed someone whose going to go to bat for him, at least.”

Kurt’s worried questions about Logan were once again ignored as Wade complains. “Of course he’s gonna go to bat for him! Kurt’s not gonna believe any of this.”

“HEY!” A blue cloud of smoke appeared between Scott and Wade, Wade could practically see the ‘BAMF!’ in the air. He looked angry, but mostly scared. “Vill someone please tell me what is happening vith my friend?”

Wade looked a Scott, and Scott started. “Logan is abusing Judith.”

If Kurt had anything more than yellow in his eyes, they would have seen his rolling them to accompany the movement of his head. “Not dis again. Mien friend, you know I respect you, I respect your leadership and judgement, but I’m afraid you might be a little clouded on this one.”

Remy stayed strangely silent.

Wade shook his head. “‘Fraid not, my favorite microdose of catholic guilt, he admitted it to me”

Remy’s head snapped to Wade now. “Whaddya mean? Logan wouldn’t ‘urt ‘er. He loves da girl.”

More somber than he’s been in a long time, Wade tried to explain. “He told me. Confessed. Woke me up from my beauty sleep to admit he hit her after the party. You can ask Jean, she treated her for a concussion.”

“Dat doesn’t make any sense!” Kurt cut in, clearly going on the defense. “Jean vouldn’t let Logan just go if he hurt her!”

“She told her she slipped and hit her head, dumbass!”

Scott stepped up, defusing it and explaining to Kurt. “I asked Jean, she was coming back from the med bay, said Judith hit her head. No suspicion, and after everything…” Scott sighed, crossing his arms. “I don’t think she’d believe me if told her this now… if she’d stand me long enough to listen.”

“Scott’s failing marriage aside,” Wade interrupts with a glare from Remy. “Logan admitted it to me. There’s some physical abuse here and there but... “ Even Wade struggled to say this. “He raped her. That’s how Stevie happened. Rape.”

The word rape hung in the air, falling around them as Remy and Kurt took in the words in their own ways. Wade could see gears turning in Remy’s blue and red eyes. Kurt? It wasn’t going well.

Remy spoke first. “Dis isn’t one of your games, is it cher?” He asked Wade. “Because dat is my best friend, I will die for her, i will kill for her and dat baby. I will kill Logan is that's true.”

“Remy!” Kurt’s voice pulled their attention. “You can’t seriously believe this, do you?”

“He ‘as no reason ta lie. Dat’s ‘is friend too, if he’s telling us dis, it has to be true.”

“No! Logan vouldn’t do that!” With a furry not usually known to Kurt, he storms up to Wade, shoving at his chest. “Vat are you doing? Stop zis game before someone is hurt!”

Wade looked apologetic, his scared face regretful, but he knew what had to done. “I wish I was joking, beautiful.”

“He’s being serious. All the evidence is there. How she acts with him, the scratches on her back, the time line of when she suddenly became withdrawal…” He looked to Remy. “You notice any changes in her in December?”

Remy’s face paled. That was enough of an answer. “Her nightmares… dey got worse. Every night for weeks I woke up to her scream’n…”

Kurt threw his hands in the air. “I won’t have any part of this! If you three doubt Logan even after all these years, I don’t even want to call you my friends!”

With a cloud of blue, Kurt was gone.

And then there were three.

Wade filled Remy in on everything he knew, everything Logan admitted to him, and Remy believed him.

More importantly, he agreed on what had to be done. Logan wouldn’t let go, he was possessive, he was obsessive… Scott would offer him a chance to stand down, to let Jean or Charles into his head for the truth or Scott would kill him.

Remy was hesitant, and Wade understood it. Logan was there friend, both off them, but Scott reminded him of Rogue.

“If he did it to Judith, he could do it to Rogue.”

“No.” He sounded firm. “He wouldn’t. Dat… Dat is different to him. She’s special to him. But you are right. C’est fou, it needs to be done, for pistache.”

It had to be done, but this needed to be over.

Unfortunately for Scott, he knew he needed to eat breakfast before the confrontation.

This egg sandwich was going to be fucking phenominal, he just knew it. Scott didn’t consider himself a particularly good cook. He was nothing like you or Remy, and Ororo definitely outshown him as did Bobby, funny enough, but he could get by pretty well. He learned out of necessity; he knew he could be in any variety of situations made him want to be able to cook… the fact he learned how to season was for Jean.

He tried, he really did. Grand gestures after he’d been absent too long in his own head of breakfast in bed, trying his best to be attentive but never quite being the man he wanted to be. He couldn’t quite allow her in, and Jean wasn’t the kind to settle. Well, she did for a long time. For years, he knew she just… allowed it. There wasn’t much else, they’d known each other for so long and there simply weren’t many other men in the mansion at the time.

Then the x-men grew, and Jean, who had been isolated for so long, got to see that Scott was not the be all end all. There was more out there. Better.

There was Logan.

It was selfish, he knew, to be glad it was you instead of Jean, but he was, even if it was just a little. He loved her, he loved her so fucking much but he just wasn’t going to be what she needed, and he had to let her go. They were holding onto nothing.

He was gonna do right by both of you. Guilt ate at him at what he’d allowed to happen, the type of person he let into the mansion and around vulnerable people. What if he was right about him and Rogue all those years ago?

He was so busy chewing and looking out the window, he didn’t hear the footsteps.

It’s time. He’ll face the consequences after.

“I won, Slim”

Scott felt his head yanked back by his hair, choking on his breakfast sandwich. That didn’t matter, because seconds later there were claws in his throat and it was over in a flood of red.

RIP SCOTT IT HAD TO BE DONE!!!!

it was actually almost remy lmfao sorrrryyyyy but i decided that was too much like ROF

anyway.

THINGS ESCALATED only a few chapters left!!!!

What are you guesses for the ending? who lives who dies?

and our official poll....

thank you for all the love!!! you are amazing people!!!!

I may be starting a new blog soon. I want to become more politcally active and although ive REALLY locked things down since evrything last april, I worry there reminants that could connect my real life to here, so i think starting over is the safest. besides, ive been getting v uncomfortable anons lately.

also totally irrelivant but

I GOT TICKETS TO SEE BOB DYLAN IN APRIL!!!!!!!!! so excited i love his music. Im well aware the show will be TERRIBLE bc bob dylan is known in my music circles as the worst show youll ever go to but youll go because its bob dylan. lol.

ANYWAYyyyyyyyyy

back from vacation yay!

start new job this month and ill be makinglike $4 more an hour ;-; and 200 a month for student loans, baruch atah adonai

@multiversed-daydreamer @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @del-ightfulling @miraclesabound @hindi-si-ikay @samsamsantos @madamerubrum @shybluebirdninja a @hornystan @rogueinmymind @accountforreading123 @yawnetu @princessanglophile @and-claudia a @new-genesis100 @teaganthemorningstar @oldloganslittleslut @zaggprincess2 @bugsinmyeyez @groundclueless @cosmolight @nonamevenus

#logan howlett smut #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #fem reader #wolverine smut #logan x reader

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sp0o0kylights · 2 months ago

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Adopt a Jock Part One / Previous Part / Part 10.1 (you are here)

A03

Chapter 10 is complete and will be fully uploaded to A03 this weekend when I can get around holiday shenanigans. It's very long so tumblr gets it in parts. I'm sure I could make a Thanksgiving food pun there if I tried hard enough but alas I am not Steve nor Dustin.

Apparently, if you stumbled into supernatural shit, you were rewarded with a mountain of legal paperwork so absurdly thick that Gareth was almost positive it included a government-approved execution clause for anyone reckless enough to speak about things better left unsaid

So, here they were: barely a week past the lab incident, eating lunch, keeping their heads down, like their entire world hadn’t been turned upside down.

(He couldn’t even appreciate the pun.)

“She keeps looking over here.” Tiff’s pen tapped out a furious rhythm, her gaze fixed on one Nancy Wheeler, “And she’s been following us.”

“Well according to Steve she knows about--you know.” Gareth said, keeping things vague in hopes it would prevent any visits from men in black suits.

“I’m sure she just wants to talk.” Jeff said with a note of sympathy.

The fucking traitor.

“I’m sure we’re not allowed to talk.” Stewart muttered darkly, pushing his peas around his lunch tray with a fork.

“Only with people who don’t already know.” Grant tried to argue, and that rapidly dissolved into an argument regarding NDA’s and tricky legal language that Gareth tuned out in favor of his new found hobby--doing his level best not to think about anything beyond his lunch and what new D&D character he wanted to play.

His last one died in the prior game, and though Eddie had--weirdly and entirely out of character--offered to revive it, Gareth had waived him off.

They needed some normalcy right now, and if that came at the cost of Gareth’s beloved druid meeting her maker, then so be it.

Plus a new character was a great distraction.

(He was set on playing a noble elf known as ‘Gregg from Accounting’, but a second dwarf named Iron the Chef had been tempting…)

“She’s coming!” Tiffany hissed, slamming her pen down.

Mourning the loss of an easy, drama free lunch, Gareth sighed and prepared himself.

“Hi.” Nancy said, announcing her presence with quiet determination, books stacked in her arms and chin raised defiantly.

No one said a word back.

“Jonathan let me know what happened, and I wanted to say that I’m sorry you got pulled into all of this.” She paused, clearly thinking her words over, before adding; “Steve, Jonathan, and I used to practice.”

Nancy stopped again, this time blatantly waiting for one of them to say something.

She got more stares in return.

“Given that things sound a little open ended, and that there were injuries, I thought it might be good to start up again. Steve suggested if we do, you all should come too.” She finished, bulldozing right through her own awkwardness.

“Practice what?” Grant asked, confused and trying to cover it with suspicion.

“Defensive measures.” Nancy answered.

Seeing their unchanged blank stares, she gathered her books in one arm, formed a finger gun with her free hand, and mimed shooting in such a deadpan manner that Gareth almost burst into disbelieving laughter.

While he was haunted by visions of Nancy Wheeler holding a gun, Tiff loudly picked her pen back up, making enough noise that all eyes went to her.

“You beat my score on Mrs. Click’s practice test by two points.”

“Uh--yes?” Nancy said, blinking at her.

Tiff's eyes narrowed. “I’m kicking your ass on the final.”

Another dumbfounded blink.

“Okay?”

“Tiff’s coping, as are we--no…defensive measures necessary.” Jeff said, in a desperate bid to soothe things over, “We appreciate the offer.”

She nodded, seemingly placated by his response. “Actually, where is Steve? I wanted to talk to him too.” Nancy asked, changing topics with ease. “I haven’t seen him all day.”

“Ah-ha.” Tiff muttered under her breath, as if catching out what Nancy really wanted.

Stewart kicked her ankle.

“He’s with Eddie.” Grant said, covering the sound of their resulting scuffle.

“He’s been spending a lot of time with Eddie lately.” Nancy noted, in that same neutral tone the Feds spoke in. All fake nice without giving a single thing away.

It was a little terrifying.

“We all spend a lot of time with each other.” Tiffany shot back, hackles very much raised and not bothering to hide it. “We’re friends. That’s what friends do.”

“Man, we are vicious today!”

“She’s really sore about that grade.” Stewart covered, offering a sympathetic pat to Tiffany’s shoulder (who looked an awful lot like she was going to bite his hand for it).

Did Nancy Wheeler even know about the weird academic rivalry Tiff had with her? Gareth took one look at Tiff’s gritted teeth, and thought better of it.

“I wouldn't be if I was able to properly finish that essay,” Tiff motioned to the now hopelessly crumpled paper underneath her pen, “ instead of rushing it because I had to pull someone out of a lab--”

“Nancy’s right.” Jeff cut in, in another desperate attempt to distract them all from eating each other. “I haven't seen much of Steve or Eddie today.”

He turned expectantly to his right. “Gary?”

Gareth frowned back at him.

“Why would I know where they are?”

“Oh,” Stewart said, far too innocently. “You haven’t realized you’re their assigned zookeeper?”

Wadding up his napkin was second nature. So was launching it at his friend's head, who expertly (and unfortunately) dodged.

“So you’re saying you don’t know?” Grant asked, a smile creeping across his face.

Gareth opened his jacket, fishing around for a moment as if he was searching for something, before pulling his hand back to show off his extended middle finger.

Pity he actually had the answer.

“They’re in the drama room. Steve sweettalked Mr. Barns into letting them set up early for Hellfire’s game.” He grumbled, ruining the entire effect.

“See?” Stewart said smugly.

With deliberate slowness, Gareth raised up his other middle finger before waving them both in a circle.

“Fuck you, fuck you--”

“Not in your lifetime.” Tiffany answered, to multiple chortles.

“Don’t bother them, Wheeler.” Gareth continued, ignoring the assholes he called friends to turn back to Nancy. “They’re setting up for the Hellfire’s last game of the year and Ed’s is a little…obsessive about it.”

As in he was known to be a complete and utter terror in the days leading up to his grand finales but Gareth wasn’t telling her that.

These games were a big deal for Hellfire as a whole. Precious things they looked forward to and the finale game was something they often worked several months, if not a solid year, to reach.

This year's game had more riding on it than any one prior. Hellfire’s shared sanity, for example, and a shining piece of normality they all found themselves desperately needing.

(Plus the problem of Eddie flunking again--and not telling anyone.

See--Eddie had been touchy the first time he hadn’t graduated and even with the appearance of monsters and government lackeys, Gareth expected this year to be even worse--but the Steve of it all added a rather explosive emotional element.

“You still have most of Hellfire.” Gareth had pointed out, when he’d hitched a ride home a few days prior and found the paper declaring Eddie’s super senior year a lost cause. “You know you’ll still have them after they graduate too, right?”

“Because they’re going to be looking forward to their old pal Eddie while in college, sure.” Had been the clipped response.

“They will.” Gareth said, with a level of assurance he hoped Eddie could feel. “And if that’s the concern, then you’ll definitely still have Steve.”

Who hadn’t gotten into college, and openly admitted to refusing to try now that monsters were back.

“I guess.” Eddie had said, looking like a deflated party balloon.

In typical Munson fashion, he seemed to realize he was giving away more “real feelings” than he’d intended too, and changed the subject with an energy that Gareth knew was fake.

He hadn’t called him out on it though, and equally, he had not called out the mania Eddie had slowly been succumbing to since that fateful day. He’d get over it--Gareth knew he’d get over it--if they could just make it past the point where Eddie’s own brain informed him the world was ending to prove it.)

All of them deserved a break, and a place to put aside all the stupid shit and simply have a good time, and heading off Steve’s nosey ex-girlfriend before she could cause problems would go a long way to help.

“I’m sure they can spare two minutes.” Nancy was saying, mid creation of the exact problem Gareth was hoping to avoid.

“No--uh,” He flailed about for a reason she couldn’t, and the longer she frowned at him the more his brain simply vanished all forms of higher thought. “Don’t?”

Nancy’s expression soured, mouth twisting in a line Gareth very much did not like. “I’m sure they--”

“Tell us what other things you practice. Besides, you know. The pews.” He interrupted frantically.

Under the table his foot struck out, and though he had no idea who he’d struck he hoped whoever it was understood what exactly he was trying to do.

“The pews?” Nancy echoed, after a painfully long moment.

“You know? Pews!” Gareth mimed a gun, and then made “pew” noises while firing it.

Besides him, Jeff gave a very Harrington-like sigh.

(He’d been doing that a lot lately, Gareth made a mental note to mock him for it.)

“You cannot tell me you guys only practice with guns.” Tiffany huffed. She had not been the kicked party, but thankfully, hadn’t needed the nudge to catch on. “What happens if you run out of bullets?”

Nancy gave her an odd, almost calculating look.

“We use whatever else we have on hand.” She said flatly.

Which just boded so fucking well for the rest of this conversation (and Gareth’s life, given he was uncomfortably aware of the things that went bump in the night.)

“Well, give us an example.” Tiff continued, and given the now increasingly concerned looks that the rest of Hellfire was darting between her and Nancy, Gareth knew the rest of his idiots hadn’t caught on.

On a piece of paper he scrawled--and the underlined twice, for good measure;

‘Go. Find. Byers!’

--and then chucked it at Grant’s head. Who thankfully opened it, even if he made a face while doing so, before proceeding to pass the note around as Tiff and Nancy traded increasingly pointed words about weapons training.

“When you’re in a situation, you use whatever you have on hand. I would assume you knew this, given what I heard happened the other day.”

“Yes, but wouldn’t it make more sense to train and carry with backup weapons rather than just hoping you find something on the way? What if the--what if we’d been in the woods?”

Gareth watched the note travel from person to person, until it was dropped back in front of him.

‘You go find him.’ Someone had scrawled, followed by multitudes of doodles, two of which featured army-hat wearing dicks driving tanks.

Then and there, he decided that perhaps his friends truly did deserve death should a similar situation arise in the future.

Useless. They were all useless.

“You’re welcome to make a suggestion, Tiffany.”

“I will. I’ll make a list even.”

“Good.” Nancy smiled, with all her teeth.

“Fine.” Tiff returned, looking half feral.

Was this some type of weird mating ritual between academic types? God, they were scary.

‘Well, that definitely won’t come back to bite us in the ass.’ Gareth thought wryly as Nancy stormed off in the opposite direction of the drama room, tapping the note against the table. He glanced at the rest of the group, who appeared to be attempting to tempt Tiff out of her snit by way of asking her what dramatic bullshit she thought Eddie would be pulling in the finale.

If nothing else, he decided, they’d prevented ruining Eddie’s day--and possibly, their entire night.

Nothing, save more fucking monsters or equally evil government lackeys could manage that.

(Pity that Gareth had forgotten the third most powerful force on the planet when it came to wrecking plans.

Middle schoolers.)

xXx

The day had dragged but they'd made it, and Eddie in turn, had made that wait worth their while.

The lights in the drama room were low.

The entire table had been set up with such care and drama that Gareth almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Goblets lined both sides, each filled with a dark red liquid Gareth knew damn well could not be wine.

Candles--real ones, had been lit, casting shadows across Eddie’s face as he lounged in his throne, a master in their element.

A castle, meticulously crafted out of wooden sticks and painted a dark, forbidding gray towered in front of Eddie down at the end, with the layout of the insides crawling down the table atop carefully gridded paper.

Monstrous figurines stood in a row off to the side, like little soldiers, planted right in front of a plain, if not comically large, cardboard box.

It was elaborate, meticulous, and half the items had clearly been stolen from Steve’s house, if not outright decorated by the man’s own hand.

“Welcome, my friends.” Eddie purred, breaking the spell that had fallen over Hellfire.

“Oh my God.” Grant breathed, jostling Gareth’s shoulder as he pushed inside.

“Dude, you outdid yourself!” Stewart added, voice awed as he took it all in.

“He had help.” Steve confirmed, materializing at Eddie’s shoulder. He leaned forward, adjusting something in front of Eddie, ignoring the immediate angry swat and hissed warnings about “ruining the moment, Steven!”

“Glad to see you putting your mom’s party planning skills to good use.” Jeff teased, but no one missed the way he ran a hand down the table, staring giddily at the spread.

Steve gave him a shrug, but even in the dim light Gareth could see how pleased he looked.

It was magical, and Gareth felt something come alive in his chest that he’d privately thought the manticore had killed.

A childish sort of excitement, bubbling up as he realized he was about to have a damn fine time.

This, of course, is when the actual children came in.

“I made a timeline.” Dustin announced, shouldering his way in between Jeff and Grant to slam down a massive piece of paper.

“Oh my God where did you come from!?” Stewart yelped, started as more and more children suddenly swarmed Hellfire’s table.

“The middle school is literally next door. We walked.” Max rolled her eyes as she took a seat next to Tiffany. “What idiot let you guys light candles in here?”

El fell in right next to her, stealing what was clearly intended to be Grant’s chair.

Who looked like he’s about to say something about it until he caught sight of her delighted face.

Gareth would have laughed at the obvious way Grant’s shoulders slumped as he accepted his fate, if his own chair hadn’t just been usurped by Michael Wheeler.

“A timeline?” Steve asked, before Eddie could surge to his feet and kick the brats out.

(They all watched him jerk anyway, like he’d intended to do just that and barely caught himself.)

“Uh, everything?” Dustin scoffed, waving a beat up folder in the air. “We took it all the way back to when we first met El.”

Next to him, Lucas had stepped up to the table, running a hand down it in much the same way Jeff had. “We decided it might help us figure out where the manticore came from.” He said absently.

A riot of emotion exploded over Steve’s face, made all the funnier by the fact that it was entirely at odds with the setup he’d so lovingly created.

“I’m sorry, did we not hear the Chief of Police? He’s investigating this, our involvement is over.” Steve made a slashing motion with his hand, as if that would hold them all off.

(Gareth, who once watched all of these children fight each other over an arcade score for three consecutive days, knew it was a lost cause.)

Dustin made yet another scoffing sound in return.

Given how often he seemed to make them, Gareth wondered if he had problems with a sore throat.

“I thought we all widely agreed Hop’s investigation skills are terrible.”

“Hello?” Stewart said irritably. “We were about to get started?”

Eddie swung himself into a sitting position and made like he was going to stand up, likely to pounce on the opening Stewart had just given.

Pity Steve once again, beat him there.

“Yes, but he’s not investigating, is he? We,” Hellfire’s jock made another motion, this one a circular twirl of the hand. Gareth was starting to wonder if the gestures are directly linked to his stress level. “already did that part. He can now do the part he’s good at, which is fixing it.”

“He’s not good at fixing it, look at what happened with the demodogs!”

It was at this moment Gareth made his fatal mistake. In hindsight, he should have known better than to ask out loud,

“Okay, can someone please explain what the hell’s a demodog?”

Several protests, groans, and pencils are flung his way for it.

(“Do you know how often that word has been thrown around!?” He’d defend much, much later. “You guys keep saying it but not what they are!”

“If you stopped eavesdropping all the time maybe you wouldn’t be wondering about such things.” Eddie had responded snidely.

“It’s not my fault you keep talking about this shit when I’m right there you asshat--”)

“What, you didn’t think there were actually feral dogs in Hawkins did you?” One of the kids asks incredulously, like he can’t possibly believe anyone is so stupid as to buy into it.

“They were like the manticore, but small and more, well, doggish.” Dustin dismissed, this time with a Harrington flavored hand waive of his own. “Ask Steve, he was there.”

Gareth turned to do just that, D&D campaign be damned (He would not apologize for wanting to know what else might be out to kill them all even if the finale was technically on, sue him) to find Steve had slipped right into mother hen mode.

“No.” He spat, charging forward as he flapped his arms around, like the children are a flock of birds he can scare away. “You are not sucking anyone into this, and we are not getting involved! You heard Hop!”

Mike rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a coward, Steve.”

“I’m not a coward, I’m someone who doesn’t need another near death experience! There’s not a reward if you have five in a row, dickheads.”

Seething and not bothering to hide it, Eddie picked up the massive gold goblet in front of him and took an obnoxiously loud sip out of it.

“I’m also going to remind you that Henderson here,” Steve stopped behind Dustin to rattle his, “is going to camp in a few days? I believe the rest of you also have similar engagements.”

It was Mike’s turn to scoff.

“Lucas is only in summer school until 3 and camp doesn’t start for another two weeks. We have plenty of time!”

“It’s not summer school,” Lucas protested, eyes darting to Max and back as if she wasn’t aware the kid was a nerd. “It’s a creative writing program--”

“Yeah, well, the rest of us are busy.” Steve fired back. “So any theories you have, you can take and shove right up your ass.”

“Why is it always the ass with you Steve? Do you have an ass fixation?”

Gareth watched as Eddie immediately choked on the dyed Mountain Dew he had been chugging down, hacking so hard tears welled in his eyes.

Jeff shared a pained look with Gareth over the table as Grant pounded him on the back.

“I do not have an ass fixation, Henderson--”

“Okay.” Tiffany clapped her hands together, the sound ringing out throughout the drama room.

“Here’s the deal. Summer break is two days away. Steve is right--most of us here are working, if not preparing to go to college. No one needs to go snooping around where we aren’t wanted, and we definitely do not need anymore injuries. Kapeesh?”

Henderson immediately turned on her. “So we’re just gonna trust the guys who fucking started all this!?”

“Given they also have better ways of handling it, yes. We are. Hopper told them about Stewarts goo, they sent some suits in to kill the manticore, and thanks to El’s heads up we caught things ahead of time for once. Can’t we just enjoy that?” Steve was beyond worked up now, repeatedly running his hands through his hair, only to fix it, pick at it, and then repeat the process again. “For fucks sake Dustin, Eddie just stopped limping!”

“I don’t think it’s over.” Mike muttered angrily, pushing a finger against Tiffany’s water bottle.

She grabbed it before it toppled over, glaring at him.

“El, do you feel anything?” Steve spoke like he was invoking a god and not an undersocialized twelve year old.

“No.” She admitted, after a long almost uncomfortable pause. “I do not.”

Steve pointed at her victoriously. “There you go!”

“But--”

“No more buts!” Steve shrieked, before seemingly to realize he’d done so. He coughed, and then said; “I thought you dorks would be storming in here trying to get Eddie to DM for you, not harassing us about the Upside Down.”

“You guys are playing D&D?” Lucas asked, as if he hadn’t been salivating over the spread for the last five minutes.

“I really like your cleric.” Will said quietly to Jeff, having leaned over to look at his character sheet at some point during the argument.

“Will, aren’t you a Dungeon Boss?” Steve asked, to the horror of those around him. “Why don’t you go sit by Eddie, I’m sure you’d enjoy seeing how he does stuff.”

A wince rippled through the members of Hellfire.

There was simply no way Eddie Munson, a man known to be possessive at best, would ever allow any of them to even glance at his notebook, let alone his entire spread laid bare behind his screen.

Those were his secrets--the result of too many late nights and an easy contributor to his failing high school yet again--and this was the grand finale.

Steve sitting next to Eddie had been miraculous enough--and that was with Eddie actively demanding he sit there, in a vain attempt to drag Steve out of his issues.

Fearing the worst, Gareth snuck a glance at their glorious--and notoriously ridiculous--leader.

Eddie sucked on his teeth, the noise painfully loud in the abrupt silence, eyes on Byers the Younger before they drifted back to Steve.

Who clearly had no idea he’d put his foot in it.

Tiff looked ready to break a pencil, eyes glaring a hole in Eddie’s head as if daring him to disappoint the group's golden retriever while Grant, Jeff and Stewart had all magically found something else to look at.

Gareth himself hunkered down, waiting to see how this would play out.

One more painful, pulsing second and then Eddie seemed to come to a decision, rolling out his hand and gesturing Will closer.

“Indeed Baby Byers,” He dropped into one of his many DM voices, something deep but alluring. “come closer and learn from the master of masters. Perhaps you’ll find something here to take back to your own campaigns. Something truly…terrible.”

He waggled his eyebrows at Dustin as Will’s Party groaned, though none of them put up much of a fuss once they saw the sheer smile that overtook Will’s face.

With the unique combination of embarrassment and pride, Will took his place next to Eddie.

Steve beamed in the corner, clearly pleased with himself and it was not lost on Gareth (or anyone else in the know) that Eddie preened only after sneaking an obvious look at Steve’s face.

“God he has it bad.” Stewart muttered, only to hiss when Jeff not so subtly jabbed him with a pen.

Gareth just shook his head, and gave Eddie a grin that said he would absolutely be getting shit for this later.

“Stevie, be a dear and fetch more chairs would you?” Eddie drawled, as he settled back into his throne, baby Byers happily checking out the items he had laid out behind his DM screen.

Which Gareth supposed was Steve’s punishment for inviting the kids along, but then, Eddie may as well have been bossing the jock around all day regardless given the look of the place.

(He’d certainly taken advantage of doing just that while his leg had been healing.)

That was their mess though, and Gareth happily put all thoughts of monsters, murder, men in black and every other awful M word aside to inside pull out his luckiest D20 die.

“Hellfire,” Eddie boomed as the all finally settled, “It's time to show the kiddies how it's done. Let’s roll!”

“And Dustin bitches at me for my puns.” Steve loudly complained as he came back into the room with chairs.

Eddie shushed him again.

#Ive pretty much lost the tag list for this #so if you would still like to get tagged for updates #lemme know below #steddie #the party #Hellfire adopts Steve #Look they lived #Eddie isnt even limping that bad promise #Hellfire finale #0o0 fanfics #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve is hellfires collective golden retriever #kids continue to be just The Fucking Worst in terms of annoying Steve lmao #they are taking YEARS off that mans life

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egophiliac · 7 months ago

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LEON

LEON YOUR EYEBALLS

#art #ride kamens #ride kamens spoilers #ride kamens episode 14 spoilers #can't believe i made a joke about it being his eye color AND THEN #i did see his updated sprite before i got to 13 but i didn't even notice it at first...#at least he also got a funky little face marking to go with it #shine on you super shitsuji!!!!#anyway I AM FINALLY CAUGHT UP #on main story anyway i haven't played the tower emblem event yet :')#but man i am loving this game #i was not expecting it to be a full-on mystery! with intrigue!#who is lying! who is telling the truth! who THINKS they're telling the truth but isn't!#punctuated by the most delightful nonsense like the unbreakable magic superhero covenants #where you gotta touch rings in the magical wedding chapel dimension that we teleport to sometimes to talk to our dead dad #(OR IS HE???????)#NO IT'S GREAT (and it does make sense in context i just love it)#still 50/50 on yellow beyblade man secretly being our dad but i can't get into theories now i don't have enough tags #man this really has the essence of what i love about rider ❤️#so far i do think agata is my favorite #but then there's leon...#let me put it this way: i would tell agata a hard truth about himself if i thought he needed to hear it #but there is no amount of money in the world you could pay me to say anything even slightly mean to our sweet leon #LET 👏 HIM 👏 HENSHIN 👏#WAIT SHOOT is it too late to redo my survey answers i need to demand that i be able to put hats on leon

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every-sanji · 2 months ago

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#one piece #sanji #black leg sanji #everysanji #sbs #this is going to be entirely unrelated to the sbs above here bc i havent seen reservoir dogs #but i feel like i havent done a little tag life update in a minute #as of time of queuing this the season has been going for about a week #work hasnt been too bad we're normally done closing by like 3:45 but we still have to wait for the bus #which doesnt leave until almost 5 which. i get it.#like the lifties dont get done til after 4 and same with retail and such #bc rentals arent due until 4:15 so they have to stay open for at least that long #but man its not fun just chilling in the lodge for over an hour until the busses start loading #but the work is fine i'm enjoying it enough #hopefully by the time this posts i'll have been able to start taking my ski lessons which i'm super excited for #i want to learn to ski so so bad #also!! i managed to befriend one of the ski instructors on accident #he's from the same area i am as well so we talked a lot about that lol #but he's sweet i like talking to him #i made a comment about how my brother was getting so old bc he turns 18 in june and he went #so what does that make me #sorry but you are 21 you are baby to me (a whole 24 years old)#the difference is i've known my brother for his whole life and you for all of like. three days #but yeah that's mod's life so far its been chill #but man i get winded just climbing the stairs up to the lodge every morning #tbf we are at like. 11000 feet above sea level so like #the air is suuuuuuuuper thin #also we're right along the continental divide too #its beautiful 10/10 would recommend #also editing this on 11/21 to add the steve buschemi screengrab

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jash-updates · 9 months ago

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Most normal energy drink consumer

#new tags time yippee #cj updates #so there's some old-ish tags here lol #i had this saved for a while actually. just didnt know if i wanted to post goofs yet #old tags:#i will say i personally cannot make fun of him for that #as i was [still am even] overly invested in drinking mnt dew #they used to sell a full liter mnt dew bottle for like a dollar at the stores near me & id take one to school a lot an drink the whole thin #[Sometimes id be able to get a whole 2 liter. Tho I couldn't drink the whole thing during the day [mainly just to save it for later rlly]]#which i would then have after the can id get every morning.....#im better now i swear #tho it was always very funny when i had a class with a friend where id slowly pull the very long bottle out from my bag #the face they would make is always so funny to me still #so i have a feeling i know *exactly* what face his teacher made #either like a mix of astonishment & confusion or its just disappointment #a “why are you like this” typea look #its great #however his story is still horrifying #i drink monster a bit & like one can is enough for me for a day [if i can finish it even]#maybe if i clutched onto that instead of mnt dew during school years id be just like him then #im in the good timeline thank god #rant over lol my bad

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kitkatsgalore · 8 months ago

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you have my soul, you have my heart ♡

#LUCY #Band LUCY #Shin Yechan #Choi Sangyeop #Cho Wonsang #Jo Wonsang #Shin Gwangil #LUCY fanart #take 2 because i'm a distaster and posted this on the wrong blog haha #still figuring how out to tag these lol #kitkatart #i did it!! it's finally done!! on time!!!#well maybe not on time but in time lol #2022 encore concert live clip of flare my love #flare really is one of my absolute favorite songs #no matter how many times i hear it i fall in love with it every time #but this version in particular is so magical :)#i was thinking i might make a few freebies of the individual member versions for the vancouver show #do you think people would like that? i've never made freebies before so i'm not sure!#i think i'd be too shy to post about it and then hand them out but we'll see haha #okay back to chores and concert prepping again #i cannot believe i'm going to two lucy concerts and then have a work conference like two days after #i was only going to go to one concert but was convinced to go to a second at the last minute. to be fair it didn't take much convincing #this really did take forever but part of that is probably bc i haven't drawn anything real in like more than a year #also was i testing the procreate layer limit or was the procreate layer limit testing me lol #okay i'm done now i'll stop yapping :D #i hope you're all doing well!!#UPDATE: i did pass these out as freebies and also to the lucys AHHH #I will never be over seeing them live and getting to meet them oh my gosh #they were soooo amazing and so so so sweet 🥺 other walwals at the concerts were also so nice!!

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2hoothoots · 2 years ago

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i was having a chuckle to myself last night about Gristol, and how his plans are basically:

Restore Ford Cruller's memory

Find Maligula

???

Profit

but then... of course they are, right? this is Gristol we're talking about. Fatherland Follies drives home again and again that he's still operating on a child's logic, a warped and reductive version of the world that he never bothered to grow out of. both of his memory vaults center on the images of his childhood, this idealized version of the past that he clings to no matter what. and that's still how he remembers Maligula, too - as this saviour figure, who rushes in to help him when he's in trouble.

[ID: Two slides from Gristol's memory vault, Glory to Grulovia! Left: Gristol clings to Maligula's back as she summons waves to sweep away his assailants. Right: Gristol and Maligula waving from a balcony as the people cheer. Gzar Theodore brandishes a dagger in the background.]

like so much else, Maligula represents a return to this idyllic childhood - to the peace and simplicity of his youth, when he was free from worries and responsibilities. in his mind, he doesn't need to make any further plans - once Maligula's back, everything will go back to normal. Maligula will make everything better.

...is what i thought, but then i remembered this line:

[Screenshot source. ID: Gristol, in Truman's body, bows on his hands and knees in front of the newly-awaked Maligula. The caption reads: "Yes, High Priestess! I am here to correct the mistakes made by my father!"]

and that's kind of interesting, right?

to be clear: this happens directly after Maligula sees Helmut-in-Gristol's-body, and recognises him. her line before this is:

"Little Gzesaravich! Have you come to pay for your father's sins?"

my first thought was that Gristol hadn't expected to still be in Truman's body by the time he managed to find Maligula, and this was him trying to placate her and buy some time until he could explain the situation. but watching the cutscene back, that's clearly not what's happening here. Gristol is answering as himself, and his response of throwing himself to his knees before her is, as far as i can tell, genuine.

so what is going on here?

in Fatherland Follies, there's this line in the ride narration that stuck out to me:

"Why didn't the Gzar help Maligula in her time of need? No one knows, but historians agree - it is Gzar Theodore's biggest failure."

other lines mention Gzar Theodore's "mistake", and it's wording Gristol himself echoes in the screencap above. evidently, he believes that his father abandoned Maligula, leaving her to her fate at the hands of the Psychonauts, and it was that mistake that lead to them being driven out of the country - that mistake which he seeks to correct. maybe he even feels like he has a debt to repay to her for his family turning their backs on her all those years ago.

the 'High Priestess' thing, though - that's kinda weird, and threw me for a loop the first time i played the game. it took me until my second playthrough to connect the dots, and remember how the room in the Lady Luctopus - Gristol's room - was full of Delugionist scribblings and symbols.

[Screenshot source. ID: left, the walls of the hidden backroom in Gristol's hotel suite, covered in scrawlings of eyeballs and Maligula's name. Right, the pinboard from the hidden backroom. On its surface are photographs and newspaper clippings connected by pieces of string.]

i mean, look at this stuff! he had a whole conspiracy board and everything!

we learn very little about the Delugionists and their beliefs as a whole during the game, but i think drawing the connection here suggests two important things. one: that Gristol was in deep with this stuff. i don't know how he linked up with them - maybe via old family connections, or just good old-fashioned digging (we know he's skilled at worming his way into peoples' good graces, after all) - but it seems likely that he's begun to internalise their ideas, maybe even warping his own memories of events. and two: the Delugionists themselves are, if you'll pardon the pun, pretty far off the deep end.

like... i understand why PN2 didn't go heavy on the "mass-murderer cult worship" aspect of things, in the end, but man this is such a tantalising glimpse into the wider mythos around Maligula. Gristol is proud and haughty and thinks himself above everyone else; the fact that his first reaction seeing Maligula is to throw himself to the ground at her feet says so much about the way he's come to see her. he's not just trying to bring back Maligula, his childhood bodyguard. he's trying to bring back Maligula, the High Priestess of the deluge, the semi-mythical figure whose supporters believe even death couldn't stop. he doesn't even flinch at the way she confronts him, and maybe it's because he's bought in so completely to this deified figurehead, this idea of Maligula; more a living force of nature than a person. and it all comes back to the same place: an abdication of responsibility, not just to the person who protected him when he was little but to this avatar of floods and destruction. Maligula will make everything better.

i'd write more about my thoughts on the Delugionists but that'd be taking a hard turn into speculation, and this is already kind of long and rambling so i'd better end it here. but what an unexpected and evocative line, right? it's some of the only stuff we have to go off of regarding the Delugionists as a whole, but i think it does such a good job of hinting at the wider story - at teasing another layer to the mythos surrounding Maligula, one whose ripples we see throughout the game but which never quite breaches the surface.

#psychonauts #psychonauts 2 #bored waiting at the airport so you get more psychonauts meta from me #the delugionists have been on my mind recently (because i Might Just have an upcoming au lorepost about them and also cults are fun)#so tossing my thoughts up here because people seemed to like the last few times i did this #and also it's my blog and i like to talk :)#related vent i HATE drafting posts in the tumblr editor because if you hit crtl+z to try and undo a formatting change #it deletes like half the post you just typed out #(yes i did it again while i was writing this. yes i'm still salty. why do i even bother)#what else... this is just becoming a disconnected thoughts dump #but if you've seen my posts you knew what you were signing up for when you hit the button to expand the post tags #there's new art coming hopefully this weekend if i can get it finished! it's more mermaid au designs #i'm two and a half weeks late for mermay but it turns out starting a new job and moving house doesn't leave you with a ton of free time #but that's okay it's never too late for mermaids #omg and artfight's coming up next month too! geez #i gotta make refsheets for the fsau trio because i would LOVE to get art of them #and this year i don't have a thesis to crunch on so i might actually have time to participate #oh and then in august i'm having top surgery! will make a proper announcement post for it at some point #i say 'announcement'. it's just a life update but it's nice to share #i'm super excited about it :)#i might end up blogging the process and recovery but obviously it won't be going here lol. i'd put it on my main #idk if anyone would find it useful but when i first started looking into surgery i had like very little idea about the whole process #and it's only through joining a bunch of online support/discussion groups that i managed to find more info and resources #so hey it might be useful to share? we'll see #our flight doesn't land for another fifty minutes so now i'm just writing in the tags because i'm bored #alright i'll proofread this and then post it when i land and have signal again. peace out yall hope your pride month is going well

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