#nobody who talks to me like that would follow this blog
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scintillyyy · 1 day ago
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Hi. I love every second of your blog going "Fuck Chuck Dixon. All my homies hate Chuck Dixon." concurrent with "Dixon could often be remarkably competent as a writer with legit interesting ideas." Please never stop writing metas.
listennnnnn i hate dixon he's awful. he's also written stuff i really enjoy despite the many glaring faults.
the thing with dixon that i'm always trying to suss out tho. like, i think because current day dixon has been radicalized in a truly awful and horrendous way, there's a lot of desire to place his current day radical beliefs onto every aspect of his past works and blame everything on him and him alone as this one terrible writer who ruined all characters for ever and ever just because he's a conservative. but like. i think that because he's an awful person it's easy to place blame on him retroactively for some things that weren't necessarily solely a product of his conservatism or his fault alone.
and mmm. i never ever deny the conservatism present in his works. it's present in his robin book with tim, it's present in his nightwing book with dick, and it's present in his batman books with bruce. but people sometimes act as if he was working in a batoffice that had the current day issues it does where writers are given a carte blance to do whatever they want with all characters with little regards to continuity or character growth. that did not happen during his tim under denny in the 90s--denny o'neil was known for running a fairly tight ship (i can't find the interview but there's an interesting retrospective interview he does wrt jason where he talks about his failures as an editor and how he was too hands off and not firm enough allowing writers to do what they pleased which led him to become a much stricter and firm editor following jason's death because he learned from the experience). dixon in that interview i posted made it clear that o'neil wouldn't even let dixon touch the joker until dixon had demonstrated to o'neil he had a grasp on the character that o'neil approved of. dixon would not have been allowed to do whatever he wanted with characters like robin/tim. without o'neil putting a stop to it if he had gone too far. and for the record, o'neil was a big old bleeding heart liberal that, at the time at least, dixon is noted to have gotten along with very well despite their political opinion differences even at that time. dixon says he was an avid read of grant's work on batman. he's awful now, but at one point he was probably younger and a bit more willing to entertain ideas that weren't his own too.
so when i look back on his work as a historical work, i'm always trying to tease out the following - is this representive of dixon's brand of conservative views in particular or is it representative of a different, overall more conservative time era. and there's a lot of things that fall under the second umbrella that get attributed to the first tbh. listen i love no man's land and understand that despite my love it is full of copaganda and downright conservative ideals by today's standards. but NML wasn't written solely by dixon to push a uniquely conservative pro-cop view--o'neil approved of the story and was the editor of the office at the time. rucka was a huge player in helping tell this super pro-cop story (he even wrote the novelization!!) and nobody ever really puts blame on him for these things the way they do dixon afaik. NML being written in a 'democrats trying to be tough on crime' era absolutely means it's not solely the fault of dixon and his evil conservatism, but he often gets the flack as if it were despite the fact that he was getting these stories okayed by people on different ends of the political spectrum than him + these stories were not his evil conservative brainchild alone.
so these are the things i'm thinking when i read through his works. and maybe that gives me a rosier view than it should, but a lot of my thoughts come from "what can reasonably actually be attributed to showcasing what dixon's views actually are" vs "what might actually not be his fault and his fault alone".
and when i say that tim generally isn't the one who showcases his personal views, i'm not trying to minimize the fact that there is inherent conservatism baked in to his character along with everyone else written by dixon, i'm saying that we need to be realistic and realize that dixon did not have as much freedom to do with tim what he had freedom to do with tim's side characters. tim, after all, had to ultimately fit in o'neil's batbible framework of what he was supposed to be because tim was ultimately an IP character who was part of a batman and robin mythos that o'neil was very, very protective of in the 90s given his previous failures to maintain control of the ship. so when you consider dixon's particular conservatism in tim's books you need to consider that the vast majority of it came from the characters surrounding tim (such as his dad, dana, steph, etc) because dixon had more freedom with those sorts of characters, rather than tim himself who often doesn't have any particular opionion of his own--he's just reacting to all the different opinions being presented to him. and that's not to say that those character should be evil conservatives forever and ever--in fact, i personally think they shouldn't. but take the racist and classist inner city kids are bringing guns to school storyline in robin #25-26. as a whole it's a conservative story. o'neil allowed dixon to do the story in the first place when he could have said no. in the story tim wanders around not knowing what to do about karl bringing a gun to school--which is why he has to go to his dad and dana, who represent "go to the cops/don't be a narc options"--his dad is the one who tries to talk to karl's dad--karl is the conservative one who thinks that they need to protect themselves from inner city kids compared to tim who thinks that guns shouldn't be in school. but tim also thinks that they shouldn't go to the cops and wants his dad to handle it by himself, but eventually comes to the realization that he should have gone to school administration to begin with. in these issues, steph is also the one who dixon uses to link karl's shooting to the inner city kids who are getting bused in to the suburban schools--we talk about that panel of steph declaring herself the protector of the suburbs, but also that panel in context is within the confines of the story--steph is essentially saying "maybe the suburbs need a spoiler (to protect themselves from the inner city people coming to bring crime out to them)" which absolutely is a conservative dixonism that you can pinpoint to his particular kind politics in comparison to the milquetoast of tim's "i don't know what to do/talk to a trusted adult to get help before tragedy happens PSA/overall conservativeness" that happens. that the story itself that exists in tim's book is conservative, yes, and i won't deny that tim also has a few conservative dialogue here but to me the difference is that o'neil would not let dixon use tim drake to go on any overtly political rants or represent any specific ideology *himself* that could make him controversial with readers of the time given how protective o'neil was of not repeating his previous mistakes. you're generally going to find the more egregious dixonisms outside of tim. like "robin 1993 is a conservative book that has a pro-life storyline" (true) =/= "tim goes on an anti-abortion rant" (not true, literally never happened). tim shares blame because ultimately it is his book that presents a conservative worldview but tim as a character tends to exist as a more moderate (not completely, but more) character to have other characters present options and opinions to him rather than he himself saying he has those opinions. robin cannot take sides like that. o'neil wouldn't have let that happen.
and like. when discussing dixon my goal is never to completely absolve tim of dixon's writing. i just don't often see a need to completely rehash the tim-conservatism points because it's been discussed already over and over again to the point there's a pretty widespread misconception that tim is the ultimate dixon conservative mouthpiece who is solely at fault for all of robin 93's conservatism when actually there's a lot of other interesting places dixon's conservatism presents that are almost never discussed in comparison. my goal is not to be "tim's not at fault" or anything but it is to seriously consider and think about where i see dixon's personal opinions shining through more overtly based on what i know of the conservative mindset (as much as i don't agree with it). dissecting dixon and how he writes in consideration of his beliefs is fascinating and fun to me.
anyways he's awful.
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psshaw · 4 months ago
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The one downside to Joking About A Video Game In Public is that occasionally, you hear from gamers... and I don't mean the typical people who are telling me things I genuinely didn't know, or who are just happy to joke around and chat! I mean that so far my sideblog has accrued 3 of the 4 horsemen of missing my joke so hard that I end up feeling a little insulted:
Person who acted like I was failing ethics for saying "awww I wish I could have adopted him" about an abandoned egg that I'm pretty sure you can canonically adopt
Person who thought I needed them to explain that a character who was being tortured into madness doesn't "consent" to the torture
Person who saw me say "I would love X if she had a different voice" and went into what I can only assume was a simp fugue explaining why she HAS to sound like that
And I never know what to say... I always wanna give someone the option to re-read everything and realize I'm not taking this as seriously as they are, but then they keep going and by then it's WAY too embarrassing when I stop them
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oceanwithouthermoon · 9 months ago
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i think its weird that i have to make this disclaimer but the internet is crazy so wtvr,, anyway,,
if i say i dont like something, that doesnt mean "that thing is bad and nobody should post it.."
i swear literally every time i even mention that i dislike something, people will go "wow does that mean u fucking hate me cuz i post that thing? ur a fucking stupid bitch and all ur opinions r wrong" LIKE ?? er.. no. just because i say i dont like certain characterizations of certain characters (the saiki k fandom is CRAZY about this cuz i can state an opinion on literally any character and a group of people will still go 'well only we're allowed to post our opinions about them because we're always right!1!1!'), or certain ship tropes (mentioned my hatred of toxic yaoi maybe once or twice on here months ago and people STILL get mad at me as if i said toxic yaoi lovers r evil or something), or certain ships, or WHATEVER, does not mean that i HATE the people who are posting them or that i think they shouldnt post them at all, NO, im just posting about my personal tastes on my personal blog and it would be extremely weird and hypocritical if i decided that i was the ONLY person that was allowed to do that,,
i think the only reason people assume that is because there are a lot of other people on here who ARE like that, and a lot of people toe the line between posting that they dont like something and posting that they think everyone who likes that thing is stupid, annoying, and wrong,, so i guess all i can say is, sorry for whatever made you make these assumptions but they arent true about me so plz leave me alone ʘ‿ʘ ur doing the same thing to me that ur accusing me of but i didnt do it in the first place so ur just actively being a dick for no reason
#crazy that the mindset some people on here have is that theyre the only ones allowed to post their opinions#ive repeated this a lot on this blog but i rlly think people forget that the person on the other side of the screen is in fact a person#if ur harassing people and publicly making fun of them then ur just as bad as any real life bully#that shit isnt as funny or harmless as u like to pretend it is#not once have i ever targetted anyone or went on someones blog to harass them over my opinion#yet people think its fine to do the same to me and treat it as if its like. revenge or something#like ? me saying 'i dont like toxic yaoi' is not equivalent to someone going on someone elses page and going 'how tf do u like toxic yaoi'#I DONT CARE !! all ive ever done is sit in my own little bubble and had opinions and that makes people mad#honestly though the people who will publicly talk and post abt it are significantly meaner#and i want to act like im not bothered by it because i know most of them r just angry that someone has a different opinion#and they want all their followers to bandwagon off of them (idk why maybe for validation or whatever-same reasons anyone would bully)#but seriously if u actually do think that something i said was out of line and crossed thise boundaries- just fucking tell me ?#im a person bro. ur solution to disagreeing with me shouldnt be 'lol im gonna post abt this and make everyone harass them'#have a conversation with me dude i dont bite ? if u cant talk to me like a person then just dont fucking say anything wtf#its so cowardly to be like 'well no i didnt wanna say anything to u cuz i didnt wanna be rude.. so instead i publicly made fun of u!'#LIKE WHATTTT STOPPPPP </3333#ok anyway this post wasnt supposed to get THAT serious.#MY POINT IS just be considerate of other people and dont base ur hatred off of assumptions#ur deflecting the blame onto someone else because u dont want to admit that ur just a fucking bully lol#being inconsiderate on here is something ive also been guilty of back when i first joined the fandom and was clueless#but grown ass adults who have been on here way longer r still doing that shit which is crazy#and i cant say anything because they have so much leverage over me and idk if its on purpose or if they dont even realize#ok im putting fandom tags cuz i want people to see this sorry. this is my one post thats actually targetted but its at a lot of people#so if u look at this and think 'hey i do that' pls evaluate urself<3#i mean its also targetted at everyone who does this anonomously so i dont know who it is OKOK IM DONE BYE SORRY HOPE THIS IS UNDERSTANDABLE#watch nobody read this fr#saiki k#tdlosk#the disastrous life of saiki k.#meows post
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remember-ur-alive · 5 months ago
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CHAT I MISS MY S^W YA0I
#I GOT REMINDED OF AN ASK I SENT BC OF GVNPLAY @DAVIDCRIES I MISS YOUUUUUUU#I don���t even know what happened to them but they disappeared off of the following of my old ns/ft blog and I can’t find them :(#(I know one letter was like an x or v instead I cannot remember for the life of me)#fuck it we ball im writing the ideas I remember here#str^hm and amanda au. obv#str^hm and amanda n<cro <3 this was one of my favorites bc it was toxic and major angst#l^wrence catching adam taking pictures of him (i dont remember what he did to him but it was silly and torturous ✨✨)#SIZE QUEEN H0FFMAN. THE CUTTING OFF A CERTAIN PART H0FFMAN ADJSDHDHDD#b0bby dagen s0unding with a stiletto <3 im not even into that i think my instincts against pathetic men (IAPM) just kicked in#l^wrence and his wife double d0mming adam. the way he literally would be happiest with two of the toughest d0ms i wrote#(they had a fantasy where alison punishes adam for him and l^wrence che^ting teehee. it had me wound up for days)#oagh there’s so many. I even know im missing a lot of them I was 24/7/365 hypersexual at that time ok#THE LOGAN/H0FFMAN STUFF. I STAND BY IT THEY FUCKED NASTY IN THAT WAREHOUSE. PROBSBLY LEFT MARKS AND STAINS NOBODY TALKS ABT TOO GRIMY MFS#OH. L^WRENCE MAKING FUN OF A SVBS STUTTER. I KNOW I WOULD CRY IF THAT HAPPENED TO ME (which is the point but whatever) BUT CMONNNNNNN#adam grinding on the end of l^wrence’s cane I think was either mine or just one of my favorites#l^wrence putting an escaped victim back into the trap to sit and watch them die <3#ST^LKER L^WRENCE 🥰🥰🥰 WHERE HE THREATENS YOUR FAMILY INTO CONVINCING YOU TO DATE HIM#amanda knifefvcking someone with the blade <3 again I stand by that#WAIT MY GVNPLAY THING WASNT EVEN GVNPLAY. WAILS I NEVER WROTE THEM WITH GVNPLAY??????????#ok whatever. last one is zepp thighfvcking someone at kn1fepoint <3#in conclusion. I am a normal person with normal fantasies who can be trusted with adult characters (as sirens go off in the background)
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e77y · 9 months ago
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Recently developed such a bad platonic/friendship crush (idk the word for it... I think there's a word??) on this one person I've barely spoken to 😭 Idk what is is... I just want to be their buddy... I want to do silly activities............ Send me memes and read my fanfics............................
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philautia-agape · 4 months ago
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She veemo on my woomy til I splatoon
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#splatoon#ive been sitting on this ask for months#partially because 'how dare you send me an ask thats funnier than anything i post'#which is technically true in the sense that i never make any original posts ever. i just reblog other people's stuff#which really begs the question like. Why was this ask sent to me instead of one of the splatoon fanartist i reblog stuff from#was anon worried about making a sex joke to one of the splatoon microcelebrities here on tumblr so they sent this to me; a total nobody?#is anon one of those splatoon fanartists who noticed my reblogs; went thru my blog -#and used this ask as a way to gauge how much friend material i am#just the other day i had a talk with a friend over whether id recognize them on anon. is this from that friend??#my initial assumption was that anon sent this so id reply to it somehow or at least post it. but why. i basically dont have followers#im not one of those tumblr users with hundreds of followers whos known to be funny. What audience do you think your ask would get to anon?#anyway i have a minor crisis every time i look at this ask on my inbox#but this time it led to me deciding to finally post this ask. That thing I said about never making original posts?#well maybe its time to change that#i wont but its nice to think of the idea#sometimes i have original post ideas but then i dont want to post them because nobody would see it#i always want to save it for some hypothetical future where i have tons of followers who will see my posts#and yet one has to think. i will never get followers if i dont post#im still not gonna post tho. tumblr is something i look at for fun im not putting effort into this thing
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kavehater · 7 months ago
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It always feels so Stockholm Syndrome-y whenever I find another Eris on this app and think they’re cool 😭
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dilf-docs · 1 month ago
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All Roads Lead To Rome
pedro pascal x younger!reader
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summary: your boyfriend swears he isn't annoyed at your little surprise visit on the set of gladiator II; you might have to help him release his anger, one way... or another.
warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (BARK BARK BARK), smut, p. in v., bit of exhibition kink cause they fuck on his trailer, he swears he's mad but he just wants head, oral (m. receiving), he also uses his armor and skirt while at it bc its hot and not bc i totally want that to happen to me or smth!!!, brat taming, orgasm denial, breeding and daddy kink lowkey, i'm so down bad for him so there's fluff!!! + pedro being whipped cause that's exactly what i want in my men, the cast makes cameos bc i love them!!! use of spanish (i'm latina so don't even try me), pedro wearing a skirt tehee
word count: 3,519 words
side note: i'm about as FERAL and horny as much as one could be!!! damn u pedro, making me walk out in the middle of class and walk on foot to the nearest theather for an early gladiator II screening (bc they're cheaper and i'm a jobless broke student lmao) that mind u it's my first solo trip to the movies but it's okay!!!! nobody interrupt me on my horny dilf hours amirite I TELL U that cinema was almost empty: just me, pedro and hey there's a spot if u wanna join mescal (look at my blog banner IYKYK) so yeah!!!! enjoy this porn lovechild that steemed from it; my pedro renaissance that'd been asleep since tlou dropped AWAKES (u don't get it, i literally watched narcos just for him) i'm so fr i need this man BIBLICALLY!!
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"Lemme guess, that's her, right?"
Pedro looks up from his phone, slightly red and embarrassed. He would blame the color on the sun, and as an actor, fake his way out.
"No idea what you're talking about, Paul"
The young man chuckles.
"I mean, every break we get, you take your chair, sit the farthest and pull your phone with the most ridiculous grin I've ever seen. I'm afraid to tell you, friend, you aren't as slick as you think"
He leans back against the chair, covering his face with his large palm.
"At least I tried" he finds no point in lying anymore, "seems like I'm addicted, but if it wasn't for y/n, I wouldn't touch it"
"I'm curious, though" Paul scoots his chair closer, "who texts who? You or her?"
"Me" he answers, but then corrects himself quickly, a bit ashamed of how that makes him sound, "but it's mostly her first".
"Right" he doesn't sound convinced, rather curious and annoyed, something he's too old and tired for, "I don't believe you"
He's about to lock his phone, but the wallpaper (a selfie with you) would probably earn him another mock from Mescal.
"Too bad I don't need you to"
Before he can do so, the irish man yanks his phone away.
"Give it back!" he shouts, earning a few glances from the crew around them, "what are you, ten?"
"No, twenty-eight" they look like kids bickering. "No need to fight me, Mr. Pascal, they haven't taught us the new fighting choreography yet" he mocks, before the phone chimes; they both stop at the sound.
"What does this mean?" Paul asks. "Malta's nice" he reads out loud, "were you talking about possible future vacations? I might have to tag along"
He doesn't follow the man's joke, instead, looking at the message on your chat. Malta's nice, says the little cryptic message, and yes―it is cryptic, because you were just talking about missing each other and some other corny stuff he'd take to his grave. Not vacations, and certainly, not about the european island, which happens to also be the place were he's filming his latest movie.
"No, we weren't" he replies confused, "what do you think it means?"
"Well, obviously, you boys don't know anything" May pops up from behind, laughing.
"Were you eavesdropping?" he asks playfully, albeit, a little offended.
"No, you guys are just too loud" she replies nonchalant. "Besides, you aren't very good at hiding it, either"
"That's what I said!" Paul backs, laughing on his face.
"Stop being misterious and just drop it"
"It means" she pauses―laughing at her own little dramatic effect, "that you're getting a visit soon"
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When you met Pedro, you were working in The Last Of Us. Nothing fancy, just part of the technical cast of the show: helping with the filming and stuff.
During those months, it was easy to find yourself falling for the main star (alongside Bella Ramsey), especially when you spent months behind a camera, capturing all of his perfect features; learning them by memory until you could draw them without seeing his face.
Yes, you had fallen for the older man, because it was as natural as breathing; easy as being alive―the fall so gentle and so easy, it was hard to know when the feelings started. You just woke up one day, feeling different.
You liked to act up―always had what you wanted, and times had changed (so it's not like he had to ask first): why not? Which is why during your last day of shooting you took some liquid courage on your veins and went up his way. It was at a little gathering the crew you've grown to call family organized, while wearing your favorite and tightest dress, that you approached him.
It surprised you that he even recognized you, but that's who he was: warm, welcoming and caring.
To augment the surprise, turns out he had eyed you already, but was too shy to do anything. Yes, the worlds most famous Chilean man. It did stroke your ego, and maybe that's why you feel like most of the time, you've got the upper hand on your relationship, despite the years in between.
Still, you feel like the last message you just sent was a bit too blunt. Now you sit at the tiny airport, pondering your next move.
You know your boyfriend isn't exactly the type to scold or get mad―despite his strong figure, but going against the only thing he asked you might test him. Which is why you feel nervous, despite the happiness around you, everyone in the airport looking straight out of a picture perfect summer edition magazine.
And your theory is proven exactly right when you arrive impromptu at the Gladiator II set: making heads turn and guards almost kick you out, thinking you're a fan.
"You don't get it!" you protest, "he's my boyfriend".
"Sure", they laugh on your face. "you're not the first to say that".
"She's not lying" oh, how you love that gravely voice. But not today: not when he sounds like a parent scolding a naive child. Not when his eyes bore into you, slightly irritated.
So now he's dragging you among the set, right to were his trailer is.
"Aren't you going to introduce me?" you ask, puffing your cheeks out in annoyance. He keeps dragging you by the arm, without sparing a glance in your way. Who does he think he is? "I wanted to tell Paul he made me cry―twice. You know I don't play about Normal People and Aftersun"
"But you do seem to play about my orders" he grunts out, opening the door to his trailer. The sunlight reflects against the white, slightly bothering your eyes with its shine, contrary to your boyfriend's gloomy behaviour.
"Are you being serious right now? You're not my dad to scold me. I just wanted to surprise you" you stand still, refusing to get inside. Pedro knows your character tends to be stubborn, and thought he finds it hot to reel you up sometimes, there are other times where he can't just stand that juvenile spirit of rage you tend to have when things don't go the way you want them to. "What's gotten into you?"
"I could ask you the same" he mocks. "Get inside. Now"
"Rude" you scoff, but obey regardless, and he breathes out relieved you didn't do a scene like last time; he still can't show his face on that restaurant to this day.
"I thought you'd be happy to see me" you say a tad bit dissapointed, and Pascal feels the pissed off feelings clouding his brain start to dissipate.
"I do, amor" he sighs, "just hate to see you do things I tell you not to; waltzing in here like you own the place".
You don't see the mistake, though. What's wrong with wanting to do a little surprise? It's not like you were a stalker or something; just a very clingy girlfriend who happens to miss her boyfriend.
"So, you're not mad?" you venture, "tell me you're not embarrassed"
He looks at you, the fondness of his gaze betraying him.
"I'm not the one wearing a skirt while trying to sound intimidating" you joke while caressing the crook of his nose, knowing you always get on his good side. Being mad isn't something that lasts, "if anyone should be embarrassed, that's you"
"Are you saying I shouldn't wear one because I'm a man?" your boyfriend looks offended, "Have you forgotten the movie I'm starring in? People feared the skirt-wearing Roman army"
"Well, I'm not intimidated" you stand defiant, and something dark tints his brown eyes. You can feel the excitement begin pooling in your stomach.
"You're not?" he grips your wrists and yanks you to him, then holds your chin, tilting your head between his calloused fingers. "Well, cariño, you should be"
Your body slams against one of the trailers walls, and you have to suppress a whine.
"You must be punished for what you did today"
You give him a doe-eye look, pretending to be all innocent, as if you weren't enjoying the punishment.
"I don't know what you're talking about. I've been a good girl"
"You know exactly what I'm talking about" he clicks his tongue, "don't play dumb with me"
"I just came to visit you" you murmur, voice husky against his ear. He grunts, and with the proximity, his hard-on rasps against your bare legs, only partly covered by the flowy summer dress you're wearing, "is that so bad?"
"It is. Has sido mala, cariño" his hand travels down under your dress, carresing with his large palm the silhoutte of your ass. The rings on his fingers create a shock, cold metal against your warm sun-bathed skin. "Naughty girl"
"I promise I'll be good, papi" you purr, using that honeyed voice of yours that makes it hard: hard to say no and hard between his pants.
Pedro sits on a small couch he has inside the trailer, guiding you with his hand enveloped around yours, motioning you to follow with a care so soft, you'd doubt he's about to do to you what he is about to do to you. He pulls you across his lap, smiling (God, you love his smile) as your stomach presses against his tights.
"Don't worry" he breathes low, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll make you a good girl. Tell me, aren't you?"
You swallow, "I am"
He moves the panties easily to the side, rubbing your pussy a little. He then spanks it softly, making you mewl at the sting.
Pedro continues to trace over it, "Are you sure about that?"
"N-no" you shiver in delight, resolve dissolving as quick as it came. "I'm naughty"
"It's good to be aware" he murmurs, "Dilo otra vez"
"I'm a naughty girl"
He lifts your head by your hair. "Tell me what you did"
"Disobeyed your orders, coming to the set" you whisper. He lets go of your hair, his hands traveling down again, slowly teasingly rubbing your pussy while he humms.
"You were a little brat, amor"
You whimpered and mewled in delight. "I was a very naughty brat"
He pushed his fingers inside you, plunging his fingers into your pussy.
"Look at you. You're soaking wet" he pumped his fingers in you, making you moan, "Is that why you came to see me? Couldn't wait any longer for daddy to be inside of you?"
You bucked a little, making him stop. He drags his fingers out, causing you to beg for him to go back.
"Answer my question you greedy thing" He leaned closer to your ear. "Did you need my cock this much?"
You whimper, "I do! Missed you so much"
He pushed his fingers back into you, provoking a moan out of you.
"You're always so needy for me" your core tenses, making you shiver. "How badly do you want me? Tell me"
You whimpered "Badly, papi"
"Say it" his face contorts in satisfaction at your pathethic display; crying little mess, "Who's cock, fingers and mouth make you feel good?"
You can't think at this point, your brain fuzzy and pussy hot, leaking. You kiss his lips, moaning against them, "you!"
"Just me, yes? Nobody else can make you feel this good?"
"No one!"
You involuntarily roll your hips to aid you in pleasure, yet Pedro stops you just before you can reach your orgasm.
"Little brat." he tuts, making you groan. "Did you think I'd let you? You were naughty today, baby"
You huff in annoyance, used to having your way.
"That's your punishment"
"But I'll behave" you mewl against his ear, "I promise"
“Good, because I'm planning on fucking your brains out” his hot breathe whispers in your ear seductively, trying his best not to slur the words at the drunken haze that your arousal provokes in him, "but you have to help me first"
You get on your knees, looking at the garment he's wearing. The skirt and general costume makes this all the more hot, mouth watering at the sight. You raise the skirt, glancing at the briefs; just seeing his dick strained against the fabric makes you wet in anticipation.
He sees the pleasure bore into your orbs, and before you do any dirty idea of yours, he's already warning:
"You have to take this off, what if we-"
"Alright" you cut him off, "but the skirt stays"
"Sigue, pues" he growls, voice low yet demanding, following you in your little game.
As you pull the briefs down, his erection springs out enthusiastically, slapping up against his lower abdomen. You shifted your gaze up to meet his, his eyelids heavy and his proud smirk driving you absolutely wild.
"That's right" he chokes out, "show me how much you missed it"
You give him a proud lick, and Pedro hisses at the moment his preseminal fluid goes in between your hungry lips.
Your tongue darts to the head of his cock, running over it several times before bobbing your head down, taking most of him in your mouth. He keeps praising as you pump the base of his cock with your hand. Your head bobs, yet you peek up to hear Pascal's little sounds and facial expression, a motivation so intimate in the way his brows furrow and eyes roll, mouth agape at your movements while his lip suck on those pretty lips of his. It makes you keep going. With every bob you take as much of him in your mouth as you can, before slowly moving your way back up to the tip, increasing your suction the closer to his head you got. A throaty moan escapes the man above you when you now focus on the final lick, making him closer to coming, all while maintaining eye contact the entire way through.
"Don't do that" he rasps, yanking you by the hair again, as of punishment, but he knows you enjoy it, "you promised you'd be good"
You can't answer, so instead, you reach the head of his cock again, and now his eyes roll back, mumbling profanities that sound like heaven.
"Do you want them to hear us, brat? Qué necia eres" he manages to chastise while moaning.
You feel his dick stuck in your throat, and the way he's about to come; you think that after some time dating, you know him well enough.
You're about to leave with your mouth when he stops you.
"No" your eyes open in shock, "what? Did you think your punishment is over?" Pedro laughs, "don't look at me like that. Like you have never done it before"
He keeps you in place by the hair, the rings prickling against your scalp. You feel his muscles tense up, and before you can think anything else thick and hot shots of cum invade your mouth, making it sticky and warm.
"Don't pretend you don't like it" his voice goes dark, husky. "Swallow it all. Te han enseñado a no desperdiciar nada, ¿verdad? Show me your good manners, then"
When you pull out, your throat feels raspy.
"You gotta reward me" you cough out.
"I promised, didn't I?" his fingers trace your face delicately, with adoration.
"It's all about duty, General Acacius" you purr, and the dick springs out again. Hard.
"Princess..." he warns.
"For the glory of Rome" you joke and laugh, then cough, as your throat is still sore.
"Have you been reading my script?" as you avoid to answer, he just chuckles, "ay, nena"
"C'mere" he motions, and you sit on his lap again. Pedro lifts your dress, exploring the curve of your ass. There's anticipation as he hooks his finger around the waistband of your panties, pulling them down to access your core.
"Fuck" you squirm at his touch, grinding your freed cunt against his hard cock. He grabs you by the hip, adjusting you right on his lap.
"You taste so good" he kisses down your throat, ending at the chest were your tits peak.
"Want them?" you offer, pulling your dress down. He kisses them, gently nipping at your perked up nipples.
A wave of pleasure courses through you, and with whines and moans, you show how desperate you are, the hunger making the meal taste better. After all those weeks missing him, you just want him to fuck you senseless.
His lips are rosy and swollen against yours, mouths clashing; starved of the yearned contact. Truth is, no matter how much you know how to touch yourself, it'll never be the same as having his hard cock tear through your tight folds.
Pedro easily aligns his leaking cock with your uncovered pussy, all while mantaining the kiss. He pushes down on you, your dripping cunt taking all of his rock-hard cock, fingers holding onto the soft brown grey sprinkled locs.
"Pedro" you cry out his name, full of ecstasy as the stretch burns so sweetly. His low grunts only fuel your desire.
You trace with your eyes his body, now bare without the upper part of the costume: his pecs and abs, flexing with every pump. With now free hands, your fingers travel to softly caress his stomach, even if your tits are jiggling and the pace is rather frenetic.
"I miss your tummy" you pout.
"I miss eating too" he whispers out, tiredly. He's reminded of his old age, forgetting about it as soon as you two kiss, because you bring out a stamina he thinks he doesn't have anymore; almost animalistic. His bones creak and adding the tiring filming day under the hot sun, he feels his body start to give up, the orgams closer and closer.
"No matter how you look" you clash your lips onto his, the adoration translating through the smile you press against, a trail of saliva that symbolizes how interwined you are, "you always look so fucking good"
He blushes, feeling like a stupid school boy with a crush. What did he even do to deserve you? Never thought a pretty young wild thing like you would even spare a glance on his way, but now you're taking all of his cock inside with such greed yet loom into his eyes with a love he's only dreamed of.
You're real, and his.
As soon as those words leave your mouth your orgasm spills over him, some of it dripping onto the skirt, making him curse. You can't stop, still meeting his thrusts halfway, despite your trembling body after reaching your high.
"Mierda" he groans against your mouth,
You feel yourself collapsing on top of him, the weight of the jet lag catching up.
"Getting tired, baby?" he coos. "Shit, and I thought I was old"
"You are" you reply back; you can never not have the last word. And he lets you, because, God, doesn't he love you? He pretends to look offended by it, but the way your eyes shine tell him you didn't mean it that way. "You and your white hairs" tracing over his moustache, a soft hand combing through his locks, "These wrinkles... don't you know how much I love them? how much I love you?"
"And you have no idea how much I love you" he squeezes his eyes shut, feeling it coming through. "God, wanna make you mine. Sólo mía" his pace slows. It's coming, and yes, you will take it all. "Wanna make you a baby, mami. Want you to take it all like the good girl you are"
When he comes, filling you with burning hot cum until you feel like you might burst, you're numb. But there's a feeling so content that pools warmth in your chest, that you can't say anything else, resting your head against his bare chest, both covered in sticky sweat.
"No sé cómo voy a explicar esto" he speaks through ragged breathes, and you can only smirk, "a squirted and cummed roman skirt".
"That isn't my problem" he scoffs, and you feel your head rise against the movement, earning a laugh out of you, "I'm not part of the movie"
"You'd sure think so, with the way you walked in here"
You roll your eyes, face hidden against his chest, "can you let that go?"
"You're right" he pulls you closer to him, hand enveloping you behind your bare back. The quiet doesn't bother you as you lie closer to his chest, his heartbeat the only thing you need to be at peace, "I think punishment time is over. Think you've learned your lesson"
"Then, how about we go out? I've heard Malta's beaches are pretty"
"Relájate, cariño. Seems you've gotten your energy back" he quips, then kisses your forehead. "We need to wait for everyone to get out"
"That embarrased you are of me?" you joke.
"No" he can already imagine his fellow cast members making fun of him, starting with Paul and Joseph when they see you and Connie who will totally notice the fun sticky stains on the costume, "but embarrased of the explanation I'll have to give"
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fereldancore · 4 months ago
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I don’t blog about sports, but early this morning my favourite athlete Johnny ‘Hockey’ Gaudreau was knocked off his bicycle and killed along with his younger brother the night before their sister’s wedding. He had just turned 31 years old, married his next door neighbour and had a toddler daughter and a 6 month old son (who were planned to be flower girl and ring bearer at the wedding).
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I adored Johnny because he was a such a small streak of lightning in a game full of huge dudes who were regularly a whole foot taller than him. His skills were just fucking phenomenal and he was so exciting to watch. I screamed with joy and cheered him on so loudly I lost my voice on many occasions. He represented his country for International Competitions and is the highest US point scorer.
I could get technical and talk about my favourite goals of his, his stickhandling, dangles, on ice spatial awareness etc but it is all on film for anyone to see, just too much to choose from. Nobody moved like Johnny Hockey.
As a person he was a sweet, kind guy who was universally liked in the sport and beyond. I do not follow celebrities on social media, but on hockey forums there are endless stories of his voracious love of mac and cheese (so much so Kraft put him in a TV ad) and skittles candies that he had a hockey stick covered in them and auctioned for charity.
In interviews he always talked hockey and his family. Whenever asked about new contracts and paycheques he would just shrug and say ‘yeah I bought my dad a boat so we can go fishing’ or ‘I just got a cool new wheelchair lift installed in my holiday home so my cousin can come and spend time with me’, or change the subject and talk about his dog, his wife and kids or The Birds. He was a real gem of a gentleman, modest and always ready to give credit to his team and dad (legendary NJ coach Guy Gaudreau) who motivated Johnny to skate as a toddler by placing skittles candies on the ice for him to fetch.
I’m am so sad for him, his family. This is just a blurb of feels about someone I counted down the days for until I could see them make magic on ice. I wish I could write a good tribute, dammit. Thank you Johnny Hockey.
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snakeeyesdraws · 1 year ago
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sometimes I like. think about making a Mario sideblog to see if that would help with the anxiety of posting art or talking about smb in general. but then I sit here like "ive already made mutuals and connections on this blog so moving to another blog is useless" even tho I dont really fuss over notes/attention on my posts. but its still a big enough mental block that I immediately delete any attempts to make a smb blog and the thought cycle keeps looping. (Patrick star voice) the inner mechanisms of my mind are an enigma
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gaystardykeco · 2 years ago
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fun wednesday night activity: thinking about all the ppl who left me and how much better their lives are because of doing so
#like damn. i really am a person that only makes ppls lives worse!!#every single person thats stopped being my friend is so so much happier than they ever were being my friend!!!#nobody fucking misses me or thinks of me or regrets anything!!! im a problem and a burden and a causer of harm!!!#i like to imagine ppl that used to talk to me read this blog bc they want to know whats going on in my life and miss me too#but ultimately i know that isnt true like if they follow me they might see a few posts but no one is looking at all of them#i stopped telling ppl what was happening in my life and they stopped caring. bc probably they did not care in the first place tbh#i still follow all these fucking girls from hs on social media and keep track of whats going on in their lives#they havent thought of me in years i guarantee it#and im still sitting here at age 23 thinking about how much better my life would be if i hadnt been so awful at 17 and lost all my friends#anyway sorry for this annoying dramatic post im just like. so tired of not feeling loved no matter what i do and how hard i try#no one will ever care about me the way i care about them and it will never be good for anyone to have me in their life#and im so fucking tired of being this fucking intolerable and awful of a person#i just sit here every day trying to convince myself i dont need to talk to anyone or have friends to survive#but like thats not true lmao i am so lonely i miss talking to ppl so much but everyones moved on#everyone saw what a bad person i am and how much i hurt ppl and cut me off and moved on again#and this is just going to keep happening to me every time i make friends or try to not be alone bc who i am is the problem and i cant fix i#anyway sdlfkjsd sorry i know i sound pathetic and ridiculous jdskf i just need to put thoughts somewhere#and this stupid blog is the only place i have to say anything bc im so completely fucking alone
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daincrediblegg · 9 months ago
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no you know what I'm going to scream about the stuff I talked about in the tags of this post publicly
I'm tired of the well-meaning "don't feel bad if your work only gets 20 notes your genius is what counts and do it for you!" bullshit. I've had a good handful of friends who have straight up DEACTIVATED in recent months because their work was not getting reblogged AT ALL. No, it wasn't from lack of not being well-liked, no it wasn't from lack of trying to make sure it was getting out there to the people they knew would engage with it. It was because no matter how much they were praised privately for their work, when push came to shove, absolutely NOBODY reblogged it and gave it the audience that it was due, and I'm tired of people shoving the "unsung genius" narrative as an excuse for it. Nothing excuses that. And the boop event really proved that.
because I know given the opportunity, indiscriminately pressing a button (sometimes 10 thousand times, as I did) is not beyond this website's capability. y'all loved doing that. and look at what it wrought. nothing but love and affection and happiness. just from a couple of quick clicks of a little paw button. sure. nobody knew who you booped but the other person (which is how likes used to work on this website, btw). there was an element of anonymity to it. but that is kind of the core of this website that no other social media platform still has: the ability to be anonymous. and hyper-curating a blog on here like you might on twitter or instagram to project an image is simply not viable. and hey. you wanna know a secret: literally nobody cares what you post or whether it goes with the "theme" of your blog or not. yeah. I know. CRAZY concept in this day and age. but literally. I myself have reblogged things that have had nothing to do with whatever I am currently fixated by and you know what happened to my follower count? not a damn thing. in fact, I actively try to reblog things specifically BECAUSE it's my friends who made them (even though I'm not always good at KEEPING UP WITH HOW MUCH THEY POST @prismatica-the-strange will NEVER GO UNRECOGNIZED by me).
And you know what fucking sucks? I have to deal with this too. surprise right? you ever wonder why I reblog fics or art I post like 20 times the day that I post them? do you ever wonder why I ask about tag lists and beg for asks all the time? IT'S BECAUSE EVEN I GET LIKE. 5 LIKES ON THE THINGS I POST. AND THE REST OF THE REBLOGS ARE MINE SO I CAN MAKE SURE THAT PEOPLE WHO WANT TO SEE WHAT I MAKE GET TO SEE IT. and I say that knowing that I'm certainly not an unpopular blog, or an unpopular writer. I know that people love the stories that I create. Hell, half of the people that I've talked to about lady terror have told me that they consider her to be canon (AND EVEN SOME!! THOUGHT SHE WAS!!! WITHOUT EVEN HAVING WATCHED THE SHOW! WHICH IS STILL SO SO WILD TO ME!!!) But especially in the last 4 years (which really dates this phenomenon), my posts, no matter how well received they've been amongst people I've talked to about them directly, I still go into the notes and at least half (often more than half) are MY reblogs to make sure people saw what I posted. and it happens every single time, and I can't tell you how much it crushes me considering that it used to be that I would be able to post it only once, and people would reblog it sometimes even HUNDREDS of times.
It's not about popularity. it never has been. it's not about anxiety. or shifting website cultures. even if you lurk, the simple fact is, that if you want people to keep making what you love. you have to reblog. your theme won't suffer because you reblogged a fanfiction that you really admire. your posting won't be ruined because you reblogged some fanart from someone in a different fandom. really. I promise. and if people do unfollow you for that? who needs em. followers come and go but you should NEVER have to cater to them. on this website it has ALWAYS been the other way around. lean into it. make it yours. put stuff you ACTUALLY WANT to be seen and that you love and appreciate on your blog. no matter how old it is, how new it is, no matter how niche or off-theme it is.
so please. if you really want to show your appreciation for someone's work? you reblog. it's really as easy as that. check the tags. add some when you reblog if you like. but please for the love of god reblog. it's as easy as booping and even more rewarding for the people who you reblog from. if you want to let someone know that their work is genius and appreciate it? show it. reblog. then DM them if you're too nervous to say what you want to say but not in a public forum. but for christ's sake. REBLOG.
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reignpage · 1 month ago
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Basketball Captain!Toji
Detroit Pistons: reaching for the ball
Warnings: 18+ minors and ageless blogs dni, bts of a modern au!smau (part 2 of Toji's series), can be read as a standalone but makes most sense with the context, cursing, mentions of blood and violence, general stupidity at a party, just one long foreplay really, not proofread
You really shouldn’t be here. 
Not a party full stop, not trying to enact petty revenge against your shitty ex, and certainly not with Toji Fushiguro, captain of the basketball team, and resident fuckboy. 
He’s taken you by surprise at every given turn. You hadn’t expected him to ask for your number from his friend, you hadn’t expected him to reach out just to complain about his placement on the List of the hottest men on campus, and especially did not expect him to let you into the gym just because it was raining, though he did shrug off your incredulous look with a nonchalantly delivered jab. 
“Y’ were ruining my view with y’r ugly crying face.”
And somehow, you had let him convince you to use him to make your ex jealous, to show him what he was missing out on. 
Now you, the girl who never drank, never wore short skirts, never stayed out too late, followed every rule to the letter, is now sitting firmly on Toji’s lap, slotting in perfectly like a puzzle piece, at a frat party. 
It’s like you’ve somehow ended up in an alternate universe or woke up in someone else’s body. Maybe you’re in a dream. Except the searing brand of a heavy hand on your bare thigh is disproving any of those theories. 
“You enjoying yourself?” His voice is low and gruff, you feel it vibrate against your body, lulling you into a sense of comfort. The rough denim of his jeans is warming your skin, his solid chest keeps you grounded, and his thick arms have you all wrapped up, balanced securely and protected from the night air.
You nod, head buried in the crook of his neck. Once in a while you inhale his musky aftershave, relishing in that freshly showered scent he always had. “My sources say Gojo throws a party at least once a week.”
“Guy likes to party,” is all he says.
There have been flashes of his white hair around the large house, disappearing among the crowds and into different rooms. He had greeted you when you first walked into the garden to make your way to Toji with a beer in hand like your partner in crime had instructed you. 
Gojo was nice, very friendly, a little loud, but you knew that already. As the writer for the gossip column, you know every thing there was to know about everyone worth knowing. Which is ironic since you’re nobody and you knew none of these people personally. But the frat president knew you. He had greeted you like you were long time friends and pulled you into a tight hug.
“Hey, look who it is! My favourite person in the world.” He slung an arm over your shoulders and cheered with everyone else, seemingly oblivious to the heat rising on your face. “Thanks again for putting me top of the List. Nice to know people have taste.”
And then Toji was grumbling and wrestling you out of the rowdy guy’s grip to a quieter part of the house. He told you to explore the place, get familiar, freshen up your makeup ‘or whatever else chicks need’, and to text him if you find your ex first. 
Now, here you are, making yourself comfortable on his thighs, goosebumps rising along your skin at the feel of his long fingers creeping up your leg and just teasing the hem of your ridiculously short skirt. 
Some people would come over, once in a while, to talk to Toji. They’d say hi to you but they were mostly interested in knowing how the captain feels about the upcoming games. A few girls would stumble over, giggling and twirling their hair but they leave pretty quickly once they see Toji’s eyes fixated on you. 
You have got to give him credit; he’s totally committed to the bit.
Perhaps a little too committed with how he’d frequently whisper right in your ear, warm breath trickling your neck. 
“You look damn good tonight, ma.”
The way he says it, the low groan that he teases you with, makes you press your thighs together. It’s a completely inappropriate reaction; you really should not be feeling tingly from his flirtations. He doesn’t mean them. Toji is just playing the part, trying to goad your ex into a fight so he can ‘ruin the vibe’ at Gojo’s party. 
Because, for whatever reason, Toji had beef with the man that seemed completely one-sided, if the hug the frat president tried to throw to the basketball captain was anything to go by. 
You stutter out a ‘thanks’ and ignore the heat rising to your cheeks. 
Toji huffs a laugh, tightening his hold on you before he leans back in the patio chair, taking you with him so you’re resting on him. Your skirt’s definitely ridden up your ass by now, but his large hand wraps around the flesh there like second nature. 
Despite the chill in the garden, you’re content in his arms. The man runs hot.
It’s easy to get lost in his body; the man is built like a Greek god, all muscle and strength, carved straight from marble. And it’s precisely because he’s so firm and hard beneath you, that you forget your ex is just a couple metres away, leaning against a brick wall with a red cup in hand, glaring at you two. 
“Dunno why Gojo let that guy into the frat when he’s so fucking ugly,” Toji grumbles. 
You laugh. 
Once upon a time, you thought you were lucky to be with him. That he was the catch and you were punching up; he certainly made you feel that way. Always reminding you that he could have any girl on campus, that the barista at your local coffee shop had given him her number with a smiley face, and that as a member of one of the most influential fraternities in the country, he could have any job he wanted. 
But as you throw a glance at him, you realise all of that was false bravado. A Napoleon Complex, most likely. 
And not once, since Toji picked you up, have you felt less than. He compliments you so frequently, so spontaneously, and so earnestly you can’t help but believe him. 
“Why do you hate Gojo, by the way?”
The captain glances down at you, a slow smirk emerging on his face and you gulp at the sight of that scar stretching. You want to know more about it, simply because you’re a journalist, it’s in your nature to be inquisitive, and definitely not because you want to trace the skin there whilst feeling his voice rumble through his body and into yours. 
With a shrug, he lifts his beer to his lips, and admits, “Don’t really hate the guy. Just wanna knock him down a peg or two.”
“I stalked Gojo for about two weeks just for a statement one time, y’know.” You stare at the people hooting and hollering over a table of beer pong, watching their jumping bodies, so light, so free like there isn’t a whole world of problems beyond the frat house’s territory. “When I finally cornered him after his lecture, he laughed and said I didn’t have to do all of that. I could have just texted him.”
Toji huffs an amused laugh. “That’s what’s annoying ‘bout the guy. He’s nice. Real fucking nice. But — and this is off the record, doll — guy’s got problems. And yet he’s always smiling. Just pisses me off, sometimes.”
And to that you just nod. You get it. There are some people out there who just seem to have it all, and you resent them for it, but they never hold it against you, and you resent them even more. 
“How did you become friends with him anyways?”
“Just kinda happened.”
If you have to hazard a guess, you’d probably say it happened through the fact that they all run in the same circle. Big personalities like him and Gojo and Sukuna, are hard to miss. They’re the kind of people want to be around. Everyone knows Sukuna and Toji have been roommates since first year, allocated on a random basis at first, and they hit it off instantly, opting to room together since then. 
With a sweep of the backyard, you enquire, “Where is Sukuna?”
“Somewhere, I’m sure. Guy doesn’t really like parties, actually.”
You gasp. “But my sources say he attends most of them.”
Toji places the bottle in your lap and you cradle it like it’s a treasure. He runs a hand through his hair and leans his head back with his eyes closed like he’s soaking up the moon’s rays. Earlier, you had told him you felt bad you were holding him back from enjoying his night, but he just patted your ass and said ‘it’s good to slow down, sometimes.’
“He does, but I think guy just likes to know all the drama. Likes to cause them too, the prick.”
You poke his chest. “Sounds like someone I know.”
He peeks at you with one eye, small grin on his lips.
“We’re a match made in heaven, doll.”
The conversation fades and you just rest your head on his chest, listening to the steady thumping of his heart and desperately trying to ignore the shiver that threatens to wrack up your spine with the graze of his thumb against that sliver of skin between your skirt and top. 
Toji’s holding you like he’s been holding you since the dawn of time. There’s no awkwardness, no uncomfortable shuffles to accommodate your weight, and he doesn’t even look the least bit bothered that sometimes people will point and whisper at the star basketball player and some nobody cuddling up in the corner on a swinging bench. 
You sense movement in the corner of your eye and spot a girl cozying up to your ex. He looks at you with a smug face. 
“How did you know my ex would care?”
You stifle a gasp from the sudden clench of his hand over your waist. It was forceful but gentle, invoking flashing images of him towering over you, wrangling you into position. He could easily bend you over and take what he wanted. Toji is big and muscular, yes, but he’s also an athlete. There’s no doubt in your mind that he has the stamina and endurance to go all night and not break a sweat. 
Shaking your head slightly, you bring the beer to your lips absentmindedly, taking a swig that leaves you blanching. How anyone could drink this, you’d never know. 
“No guy wouldn’t care that his ex moved on pretty quickly. Plus, insecure little shits like him need to think that they got the better end of the deal. He needs to know you’re all sad and stupid over him so he feels important.”
Wise words. 
It surprises you slightly. 
Of course, most students at Eden are smart — being one of the top universities in the world means having high standards. But no one would ever go to a frat-party attending jock for advice, much less dating advice, and expect insightful revelations. You feel guilty for underestimating Toji. He’s actually pretty smart. 
“Look, he’s got a girl on his arm and yet he keeps looking at you.”
It’s true. 
You can feel his leery gaze sweeping up and down your body, and it makes you want to throw up. So you shuffle closer to Toji, impossibly closer, and he lets you. 
“You look hot, doll. Just gotta own it, yeah?” His breath fans over you and it sets your skin ablaze. One hand rubs at your thigh, relishing in the soft, smooth skin and the other is gripping your hip. And beneath you, there’s something you’ve been giving your best shot constantly to pretend isn’t there. 
Toji Fushiguro is hard. 
And big, by the feel of it. 
You already knew that, of course. You get lots of anonymous tips through your ‘Insider’s Line’, as you like to call it, voicing in exhilarated pants about recent escapades. It’s a hotline anyone could call. You’re the only person who has access to the voicemails that get left behind. And it’s never usually a tedious process to sift through the prank calls and the boring confessions to get to the juicy details about the ongoings on campus. 
Many of those voicemails are to do with Toji. Whether that was about how he ‘so hot’ they could just ‘die or, like, combust’ or variations of ‘oh my god, that dick is fire, for real.’
You are not a prude. 
You have too much exposure to much more graphic descriptions of people’s adventures to be shy about sex, not to mention, you’re an adult. A virgin, but still an adult with friends who are not shy about their sex lives, to put it mildly. In fact, you’ve got a certain art student friend who loves to rant all the ways she’d like a certain vandal to ‘paint’ her with his ‘artistic essence.’
Whatever that means. 
And yet, despite all your pieces on the wildest, most inappropriate topics like ‘the hottest sex position right now’ and ‘is six inches really enough?’, you find yourself blushing at the realisation that the captain of the basketball team is sporting a boner that he doesn’t care to hide. 
You clear your throat and with a whisper, you say, “I hope I’m not making you…uncomfortable.”
You wince at the awkward wording. What are you? A child?
Toji grunts. 
“You referring to my boner, ma?” When you nod embarrassed, he taps your thigh with two fingers. “It’s your fault so you gonna lend a hand or what?”
If he was anyone else, literally anyone else, you’d be outraged. No man should talk to a lady like that and insinuate that they have a responsibility over someone else’s bodily reactions. It’s backwards and uncouth!
But…
Toji Fushiguro is not anyone else. 
You know he’s joking; he doesn’t seem to have any qualms in making stupid jokes with you because he knows you write filthier things. He’s tested your boundary many times in the past couple days and you’ve grown accustomed to his humour. 
And even if he isn’t joking, you have no problems with taking the opportunity. 
You shouldn’t.
You just got broken up with the other day and it’s unwise to get personally involved with a person you write so frequently about. Bias must not be tolerated is your mantra. 
Yet, your thighs are pressed tightly together, your nipples are poking through your top and you know he can see them, and if you were to slide a hand between your legs, you’d likely find wetness that is unbecoming of a lady. 
Wait. 
Among hundreds of voicemails, didn’t you receive one about how a guys likes girls sitting on his lap so he could feel their pussy?
Can Toji feel your pussy clenching, moistening and fluttering on his thigh?
You tilt your head up with a panic and you’re aghast. He’s already looking down at you with a challenging raise of his brow and a smirk playing on his lip. He knows what you’re thinking and he sees the question in your eyes. 
Toji flexes his thigh in an answer, pressing it harder against you, and the friction is delectable. It leaves you reeling, hand clutching his chest for stability. His arms tighten around you, and he’s sitting up, no longer lazily lounging, but now drawing closer, muscles tense despite his calm expression. Green eyes flicker up and down your face, settling on your lips with a hunger you surely match. You’re entranced. He smells clean and fresh with a hint of something burnt, a maturity you want to explore. His scent is filling your head, washing away the smell of cheap liquor and weed. 
Then, a foghorn like whoop pierces the mist. 
Some guy had climbed the balcony and is threatening to jump into the empty pool. Everyone crowds around, laughing and cheering. 
The moment is lost between you and your new friend, but he doesn’t let you up. In fact, he isn’t even looking at the idiot — not like you are, thinking about piece you could write about party culture — but rather at his stupid roommate, who stands on the other balcony, leaning against the railing as he looks on at everyone in disgust. 
Perhaps it’s the sheer fact that they’ve been friends for a while, and so he knows Sukuna’s inclination for inciting violence and general nonsensical behaviour for his own sick satisfaction, that makes Toji so damn sure this is his doing. Or maybe it’s the fact that he knows his roommate has developed a fascination with pushing a certain someone’s buttons. 
And when his phone pings and he receives a text from his pink-haired teammate, he knows it’s both. 
If the fucker stains Gojo’s pool with his blood, you think he’ll complain to the Prez?
Toji doesn’t bother answering, he just pockets his phone again with a tsk. He’s totally gonna hide the guy’s car keys in retaliation later for ruining his moment. He was so close to getting a taste of a certain gossip columnist and the opportunity was gone and excusing herself to go inside for a blanket. 
When she disappears from sight, weaving through the crowd still egging the loser on, the captain groans into the sky, squeezing his throbbing cock to adjust it. It’s gonna be a long night, he thinks, but then smiles to himself when he notices your dumbass ex still glaring with as much hate as the little guy can muster, and he knows he saw the whole thing. 
Now, all he can think about is you returning as quickly as possible so he can pick up where he left off. He’s gonna push all three of you as far as possible tonight: the ex will know he’ll never be man enough for a woman like you and that’s why he couldn’t get you wet; you’ll learn to let go, trust the pleasure and embrace it; and Toji?
Well, Toji’s gonna learn that the quietest girls are usually the ones with the most to say. 
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chaos-in-deepspace · 7 months ago
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L&DS Boys: Pool Day | Fluff
Ngl I wrote this in less than an hour and a half. Been chilling in the pool a lot these days and needed to write something for it. Now I want y'all to make sure and read Zayne's part and pay special attention to it, okay? Listen to what he says. I'm serious guys, listen to Zayne.
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♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+. ♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Warnings: N/A ♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Pairings: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader
Blog Information | Masterlist
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Xavier
The cool water lapped at your skin as you sank your entire body into it. A sigh of relief escaped you as you instantly felt better. The summer had just started and already it had been record high temperatures. Thankfully your apartment complex had a nice pool, and since it was one of your rare days off you took advantage, silently thanking the world that your apartment had mainly elderly and hunters so today nobody else was at the pool.
To make matters even better, you managed to drag your sleepy neighbor out with you. You had promised him pool snacks and the new lounge floats you had gotten. Unlike the inflatable ones, these were fabric of sorts and you just knew they’d feel absolutely amazing the moment you two got into the pool.
“Are you ready?” Xavier asked, placing a hand on the small of your back. You let out a small yelp, not used to him being able to touch your skin so easily like this. You looked over at Xavier in his own swim clothes, almost wanting to blush. Of course this man would be the one who chose a speedo over something else.
Still, you began climbing up onto one of the two floats you had. Your body dipped into the water below you and kept you cool and you let out a content sigh. You watched Xavier follow suit, getting comfortable. The lounge float was just as comfortable as you had come to expect and you were living for it.
You put on your sunglasses as you relaxed and turned to Xavier, “Hey Xav?” You called out, making the blonde man hum next to you, “If I fall asleep, you have to promise to wake me up.” You said, knowing you were playing a risky game at the moment.
“Only if you promise to wake me as well.” Xavier said and you could hear the small yawn he let out. You rolled over to your stomach and realized this position was even better.
“Xavier, if I fall asleep and you fall asleep then we’re screwed. Someone needs to be responsible.” You comment with a light chuckle. You watched Xavier paddle his float over to you. He hooked his leg over part of your float and grabbed your hand, making it rest on his own.
“If we stick together like this and keep talking, then we have a better chance at staying awake.” He noted. Well he certainly was right, and being this close to Xavier was certainly a treat. You could ogle the plains and valleys of his well sculpted body perfectly like this.
Sadly it seemed you two forgot one very important fact…how you two always managed to pass out during naps while talking. You don’t even know when you fell asleep, or how long you were passed out. All you know is when you woke up you looked at Xavier. His pale skin was currently a bright red as he laid on his back, sunglasses on and you knew you were screwed.
You didn’t even need to see your back to know you were burned. Your skin felt hot and uncomfortable and if you could see it you’d notice just how angry it looked. You went to poke Xavier, flinching to yourself when you saw the spot on his cheek you poked turn white then back to red.
Xavier groaned as he opened his eyes and turned to look at you. Even with his sleepy vision he could see your current condition. He let out a gasp, going to sit up and forgetting he was on a float as he crashed into the water below him.
You couldn’t help but laugh as he came up, shaking some water from his hair. Without his sunglasses you could see the sunburn went around his eyes, “Xavier…we fucked up.” You said after a moment.
“I can…see that.” He said, looking over your back then down to his chest, “We should head indoors.” He said, going to grab your hand gently. You got off of your float and Xavier grabbed both of them in one arm while still holding your hand. You followed him to his apartment and you noticed how he had a serious look on his face as he forced you through the corridors of the complex. Your complaints about leaving a wet trail from the floats and your body went unheard.
You had to admit the moment you got into his cool apartment you felt a bit better. Xavier finally let go of your hand and dragged the floats to his bathroom, probably to let them dry in the shower. “Sit down on the couch, but be careful.” Xavier said, his calm voice echoing through the apartment.
You had no idea what had gotten into him, but you did just as instructed. You winced as you sat down, your sunburned ass stinging with the smallest movements. When Xavier came back, he was holding a large tub of something.
“Lay on your stomach.” He said and you were still confused as you did just that. He walked behind you and soon you let out a long, drawn out groan of relief. The item in his hand was a cream or sorts and was cool. It soothed your irritated skin as he gently began massaging it into your skin.
“What’s that…?” You groaned, knowing it was familiar but you were still tired from your nap and couldn’t think properly.
“It’s some aloe. I had some just in case.” He said, his small laugh was like music to your ears, “I apologize, you’re burned because I couldn’t keep my promise.”
You hummed and looked back at him as he began working the aloe into the back of your thighs, “We both failed, Xavier. Maybe if you kiss it better it’ll heal for me.” You joked. You hadn’t expected Xavier’s cool lips to press on your burned shoulders. It did feel nice as you melted into it, his lips trailing gentle kisses over the worst burns. He then continued to put the aloe over all those areas as well.
“You’re probably more burned than I am anyways. Did you even use sunscreen?” You comment after a few moments of silence. You had made sure to put some on before heading to the pool, but after hours of the sun even the sunblock wouldn’t be able to keep up without being reapplied liberally.
“I’ll be fine, I just need a nap.” He said, his large hands finishing their massage on all the pieces of skin you were burned. You slowly sat up, but Xavier went to push you back down, “And so do you. But first you need water.” He commented.
You smiled over at him and grabbed hold of his hand as he tried leaving, “Not so fast. We need to take care of your burns.” This time he didn't stop you as you sat back up. You saw the jar next to you and looked back at him. “Lay on your back, I’ll put some aloe on you.”
“That’s not necessary.” Xavier tried to protest with a pout, but you weren't having it.
“Xavie baby.” You said, calling him a nickname that always got him to blush, “Let me take care of you. Come on.” You said, motioning for him to do as you said. He let out a sigh and finally laid down.
You smiled, looking down at him as you covered your hands in the green goop. Today might’ve had a few failures, but being able to rub down Xavier’s body was almost a reward in itself. You then saw Xavier look off to the side then back to you.
“Perhaps if you kiss it better it’ll help them heal faster.” He said, using your words against you. You chuckled as you leaned down, kissing his cheeks before he grabbed your face. You were confused as he brought you in for a proper kiss.
“It hurts the most here.” He said after parting, running his thumb over his own lip. You chuckled, pressing another kiss there.
“Then it looks like I’ll have you pay extra attention to it.” You said, then kissed him again. Perhaps the sunburns weren’t that bad if this was the aftermath.
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Zayne
Why Zayne never used the pool at his luxury apartments was beyond you. There were never any children running around, and oftentimes during the weekdays people were at work and couldn’t relax over there. That meant on your days off, it was just the two of you and a very nice and well kept pool. Yet whenever you brought it up, he would always say if you wanted to go he would, but he’s not planning on going by himself anytime soon.
So as soon as summer hit and the heatwave was at an alltime high already, you were dragging Zayne towards the elevator to head down to the pool. Your excitement was evident as Zayne adjusted the pool bag he had prepared. It was a large side bag and you were certain he kept a little bit of everything in there.
When the elevator hit the bottom level, you grabbed hold of his hand and began literally dragging him, “Come now, the pool won’t be going anywhere.” Zayne tried to assure you, but you weren't having none of that.
“The pool might remain, but every second spent dawdling is a second wasted.” You comment, “Time leaves us constantly so we need to catch up.”
He sighed and shook his head. As soon as you left the air conditioned building it was already sweltering hot. You could almost feel sweat clinging to your skin as you made your way to one of the pool chairs. Zayne had already opened the umbrella and laid towels down for the two of you.
Meanwhile you stripped off your pool cover and were about to run straight into the water. As soon as Zayne noticed your movements, he thought fast. Two large hands cupped under your armpits as he brought you up like a naughty cat trying to sneak off. You laid limp in his grasp as you processed what happened.
You slowly turned to him with a pout, “Zayne, what the ever loving fuck?”
“Eloquent with your speech as usual.” He teased as he went to set you down under the umbrella covered chair, “Aren’t you forgetting an important step?” He asked and you sighed with an eye roll.
“Nope.” You popped the ‘p’ as you looked away from the man.
“Perhaps I should remind you that sunscreen is necessary. I agreed to come to the pool if you made an effort to protect your skin.” He said and you groaned, “I’m sure you’re aware that a light skin tone only has a natural 4-5 spf, while skin with higher melanin has the max of 13.5 spf. That means no matter your skin tone, you still need to protect your skin.”
You couldn’t help but giggle, “Oh please keep talking about medical things with me, Zayne.” You joked and he shook his head.
“Your skin is the largest and one of the most important organs of your body, please treat it with the respect it deserves.” He said, grabbing the sunblock he had brought with him, “Now come here, I’ll help you apply it.”
“I can do it myself.” You protested, but he was already putting some of the cream into his hands. He looked up at you from his prescription sunglasses.
“I’m sure you could.” He said, “However I need to make sure you're covered properly and with enough product it’ll do its job.” He explained with an almost smile on his face. You rolled your eyes before opening your arms up so he could properly get you covered.
You glanced at the bottle and almost choked on your spit, “SPF 100? Isn’t that overkill?” You asked with an incredulous expression.
“Not at all, however we will need to reapply it after about an hour and a half since we’ll be swimming. I’ll make sure to set a timer.” He said and you once again groaned…that was until his hands were on you.
He had purposefully cooled his own hands as he began massaging the product into your arms, chest, stomach, and legs. His hands glided over your body respectfully as he made sure you were properly covered, eventually having you turn around so he could apply it to your back. You jumped when his frigid hands pressed on the back of your neck.
“H-Hey!” You whined and he just chuckled.
“My apologies, I’m just being thorough.” He explained as he worked on your back now. Once your body was covered you turned back to face him. You hadn’t expected his large hands to cup your face as he smeared some of the sunscreen there. Your hands went to wrap around his wrists as you tried backing away, but his grip was firm, “Stop fighting, unless you want a sunburned nose.” He scolded.
You finally huffed and relaxed into his touch. You were startled when he left your face, only to come back and press something over your lips. You opened your eyes and noticed he had a lip balm, one that also had some spf in it. You smacked your lips, noticing how it tasted sweet.
“Better?” He asked and you nodded.
“Yes, but.” You said and he hummed. You tugged him over to you, placing a kiss on his lips. He didn’t fight it, leaning in as your lips met his in a short and cute kiss. “You needed some chapstick too…”
“I appreciate you helping me put it on.” He said with an amused huff.
“Can I swim now?” You suddenly asked after buttering him up; already you were getting up. He gripped your waist and dragged you back down.
“Wait twenty minutes after applying sunblock before being exposed to the UV rays.” He said and now you just knew he hated you. You looked at him with pouty eyes and he just smiled at you, “Would you like to help me apply sunblock to help pass the time?”
Now you perked up at that offer, your hands already twitching as you nodded your head. He took off his own cover up and exposed his chest and you had to fight the urge to lick your lips at the sight. How he managed to be in shape while overworking himself was a mystery, but damn were you grateful for it.
You put some sunblock into your hands, running them over Zayne’s chest first and oh my goodness how were you going to be able to survive this. You could feel every single muscle of his as you massaged it in, looking up at him from time to time as you tried to remain focused.
Your heart was beating out of your chest as you realized how much you wished you weren’t out in public right now so you could squeeze his chest. You remained professional though and applied the sunblock liberally, and were almost disappointed when it all ended. Still, you both were now covered and you looked over at Zayne’s phone. He had already set a time and it said you had fifteen minutes before you could jump into the pool.
“Zayne, do we have to be a stickler for sunblock rules?” You asked after another five minutes. He looked over at you curiously.
“Are you asking me as your boyfriend, or as your doctor?” He asked and you huffed, rolling on your stomach on the towel.
“I hope you know imma spend the next hour and a half in that pool and I’m dragging you in there the entire time.” You said and he chuckled as he went to his bag and grabbed two drinks. There were two cans of milk tea and when he handed one to you, you noticed how cold it was. You sighed and opened it up, taking a sip, “But I guess this isn’t too bad.” You comment looking at the water.
“My top priority is your safety, however perhaps we can break a few rules. I’ll let you get in five minutes early.” Zayne said, clicking on his phone’s timer. You looked over and noticed you had six minutes left. Your eyes widened as you realized what he said.
You handed him your drink and as soon as the timer had a ‘five’ on it, you were running into the water.
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Rafayel
“Fuck you, pufferfish.” You said, shoving the purple haired man out of the way, “I’m getting in first!” You cried out, your feet hitting the hot cement outside of his personal pool. The man in question was right behind you as he went and grabbed hold of you.
His grip on your wrist had you dragging behind him, “Tough luck, pearl, but the pool is mine.” He said, gaining the lead in his mad dash to the water.
This all started when you had been lounging at Rafayel’s home, realizing just how hot it was. His air conditioner was working, sure, but it was still balmy since you were right by the beach. Sweat clung uncomfortably to your skin as you had glanced over at the artist.
“Rafayel, it’s too humid.” You complained and Rafayel looked over at you. You could see the sweat dripping down his neck so clearly he was in a similar situation as you. He seemed to think something over quickly and then smiled.
“Perhaps I could take a break.” He mused, “I do have a pool out there. That should help with the current situation.” He said and you hummed. The thought of spending the day in a private pool was so nice. You had swam in his pool before, it had a tanning ledge, a hot tub with a small waterfall that bled into the pool, and several pool lounges. He had everything you could ask for really, which was to be expected.
“Let’s do it. I’ll grab some drinks.” You said, hopping off the couch and running to the kitchen. Rafayel called out for you, but you didn't hear him as you raced to his fridge. An assortment of soda and juices were stocked thanks to your insistence he have other things than just coffee and water.
You went for the apple juice, deciding it would be refreshing enough for a day like this. Rafayel had some tumblers that would keep it ice cold while you were outside. As you stood back up you bumped into Rafayel’s chest. You spun to look at him in surprise, “Uh need something?” You murmured.
“I asked if you had a swimsuit.” He chuckled and you realized that you didn’t have one at his place. You groaned and looked at him with a pouty face.
“No…” You mumbled and he shook his head.
“That’s fine, I bought you a few just in case. I’ll grab them for you.” Well isn't he being nice and accommodating. Something was up. Your eyes narrowed as you followed him. He went to his closet and that’s when you discovered the swimsuit line up he had.
They were either very promiscuous, or downright ridiculous. He looked between you and the suits and you groaned. You grabbed a pair with rubber ducks decorating it and looked at him, “You sir, are an asshole.” You said, heading to his bathroom.
“I did nothing wrong.” He said, a hand over his heart as you closed the door and quickly got changed. When you came out you choked on your spit. Standing in front of you was Rafayel, with a matching swimsuit.
“I fucking hate you.” You laughed, realizing now why he had gone through the trouble of getting these swimsuits. It was so you guys could match at his pool, “Wait, so if I had gone for the revealing one…?” You trailed off.
“It’s too late for that now, pearl.” He teased, “But I’ll have you know they make very flashy male swimsuits nowadays, in several different styles.” So the ones he showed you…damn you regret your decision. Still, seeing him in something ridiculous like that was enough to make you less bitter.
“Fine, whatever, let’s just get to the pool.” You said, walking out with Rafayel following you, then you said the most childish thing of the day, “Last one in's a rotten egg!” You then began booking it.
You forgot that the two of you combined was a bad case of competitiveness. It led you to the now, where you both were playing dirty to get into the cool pool. You were screaming at one another, attempting to trip or thwart the other.
As soon as you were at the edge, Rafayel yanked you back. You hooked your ankle around his to hold him in place. However this caught both of you off balance. Next thing you knew, the cool water was enveloping the two of you. You looked at Rafayel under the water with wide eyes as you two realized what had happened.
You broke through the water and began laughing immediately. Rafayel soon emerged as well, grabbing onto your shoulders and pouting, “You dropped me into the water.” He whined and you were still laughing.
“I dropped us into the water.” You corrected him. He couldn’t help the smile on his face at the confession.
“Ya, I guess you did.” He huffed before using his weight to push you down. You could hear his voice clearly despite being under water, “But that doesn’t mean I can let you go without punishment, my dear bodyguard.”
You went to scream but you knew your lungs would fill up. Rafayel then dunked his head under the water and swam closer to you. He took his hands over your eyes, covering them and you felt a soft peck on your lips.
Suddenly you could breathe underwater and you chuckled at his antics. He took his hands away as he looked at you with eyes swimming with mischief.
“You’re the absolute worst, fish.” You said, dragging him closer to you. You pressed another kiss on his lips, and you loved how red his cheeks and ears got.
“How am I the worst? You’re supposed to protect me, yet you let me fall in the water.” He complained, but his arms were wrapping around you as he said so. His nose nuzzled against your own as he held onto you.
“Oh how cruel of me to put the fish back into water. I’m just the worst.” You said with a sigh, “Now come on, I want to soak in the sunshine.” You began tugging him to the surface of the water. Despite his pouting, he allowed you to drag him up.
You went over to the tanning ledge, laying on your stomach and relaxed. “Need sunglasses?” Rafayel said, swimming next to you and splashing you with the water.
“Do you have some?” You asked and he shrugged before his eyes furrowed.
“Hey…how are your feet?” He asked and you looked confused. You sat up and looked to see if you had managed to get a cut on your foot at some point. You didn’t see anything as you turned back to him.
“They’re fine…why?” You asked.
“Good…think you could run and get us sunglasses then? They should be near the front.” He said with a smirk, knowing he got you.
This time you would admit, you did push him into the water…well more like kicked him. He was the one asking for it though as he let out a shrill scream before the large splash of water filled your ears. You regretted nothing.
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Did y'all hear what Zayne said? Apply sunblock 20 minutes before being exposed to UV rays, no matter what skin color you got. Reapply every 1 - 2 hours as well if you're going to be swimming or sweating a lot (or as directed by the bottle). Your skin is a large and important organ of your body so take care of it you guys!
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441 notes · View notes
skythealmighty · 4 months ago
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man. there are so many object shows out there. I NEED TO CATCH UP ON SO MANY why are the4e so many anyway Exclamation Mark (NOT AB) im killing you. he would get bullied off tumblr
#rocket talk #roc save #NOT THE ANIMATIC BATTLE ONE that ones fine #i mean the one in my header #hes an asshole #why do i keep accidentally hitting the number keys lately
(7 notes)
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📉 storyboard-but-better Follow
i cant believe my contestants are so pissy over the second challenge still!!!! it was a coherent challenge i think "survive me killing you" is pretty straightforward!!! besides theyre fine now >:/
⏰ timeisatool Follow
Maybe it's becausw you killed them?
📉 storyboard-but-better Follow
well thats stupid
⚪ fuckingcircles Follow
I KNOW RIGHT!! my old contestants got SO pissy when i killed th3m!! just because theres no recovery... 😒
⏰ timeisatool Follow
You dont have recovery????
⭐ everybody-smile-smile-smile Follow
arent u supposed to be dead
⚪ fuckingcircles Follow
well im NOT so
❗ black-and-red Follow
Ugh, I haven't even killed anyone that much and they're still pissy! Honestly... just do the challenges and you'll be fine! I only threatened them..
⭐ everybody-smile-smile-smile Follow
well i thought i killed circle but ig not! and square but nobody else died idk why everuones so afraid of me... whats so wrong w wanting to make a perfect object show?
⏰ timeisatool Follow
Um
🔥 betterheatsflamesman Follow
yeah theres nothing wrong with that! you gotta do what you gotta do for your object show
⏰ timeisatool Follow
😰😰😰😰😰
⏰ timeisatool Follow
I want to leave this group...
#i thought we were all just supposed to be wacky and weird 😰😰 #mom come pick me up im scared...
(34 notes)
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🔥🔃 betterheatsflamesman Follow reblogged 🪔 slay-style-queen
🪔 slay-style-queen Follow
Hey guys, just managed to get sponsored with my object show idea!!! (No thanks to you Lip Stick lol) wish me luck!! Also go keep an eye out on Village of Objects Official :D
🪔 slay-style-queen Follow
what the FUCK
🪔 slay-style-queen Follow
oh my god how do you all stay sane actually
4️⃣ four-therecord Follow
we don't! welcome to the club
🪔 slay-style-queen Follow
im never doing this again
#:)
(4,294 notes)
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📻 annie-annie-ooh Follow
Who's Animatic?
#It's Your Fridge DJ! #I appreciate all the lovemail and the concern! ❤ #I don't understand some of the asks but thank you anyway!
(725 notes)
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🧪🔃 test-tubular Follow reblogged 💥 fans-fantastic-features
🫵 have-you-heard-of-this-os Follow
Have YOU heard of:
🫵 have-you-heard-of-this-os Follow
Please stop debating on whether or not this "counts" as an object show, this was requested by an anon. If you want to do that on your own time on your own blog, feel free!
💥 fans-fantastic-features Follow
SORRY ABOUT THAT SJEHSKEB will move i promise 🙏
anyWAY on another note i miss this showww 😭 i was so intrigued about it but i guess i understand its cancellation... if anyone wants to come up with a rewrite w me hmu my ao3 is in my desc!!!!
⭐ everybody-smile-smile-smile Follow
just as long as you clarify its unofficial!! (:
💥 fans-fantastic-features Follow
its on ao3 ofc its unofficial
💥 fans-fantastic-features Follow
WAIT A GODDAMN SECON
#Fan we were /on/ an object show and technically famous I'm not sure why you're surprised at this point #Also get off your phone we're at Purgatory Mansion
(11,374 notes)
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anonymous asked: hey greeny can you say trans rights for everyone out there
🟢 greenyguy Follow
trans rights AND trans wrongs. even if you like burger king i still support you <3
#burger king sucks ass tho dont do that to urself
(34,193 notes)
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💥 fans-fantastic-features asked: im SO sorry for the sudden reply earlier, up until your post i thought hfjone was just some weird wild experimental show?? then again i shouldnt be surprised if happy star themselves is on this goddamn site (also sorry in advance for my friend TT sending you asks about alternate universes. shes a science nerd of all types and needs data or sm) if you want i can tell you what i know about your situation in a private chat, ive done a lot of deep dive analysis posts on my blog too and trust me when i say a LOT of the internet wants to help free you and everyone else you have plenty of help available spotty replies tho im investigating smth
🎒 liam-plecak Follow
I... yeah, I'd like that. Thanks.
(34 notes)
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anonymous asked: battery ui is kind of already jailed but still
🔒 your-fav-would-be-jailed Follow
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Battery from Ultimate Insanity would be jailed!
🔋 theft-and-battery Follow
Yeah
#Why did someone earlier send in that Walkie Talkie person? #I approve of the Blender submission though #Hate that guy
(12 notes)
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🎒🔃 liam-plecak Follow reblogged 💥 fans-fantastic-features
🕹 fire-cartoon-schtick Follow
cant have shit in this fuckass hotel 😒😒😒 lens just died 😔😔
🕹 fire-cartoon-schtick Follow
#WHAT THE FUCK #DONT JUST DROP SMTH LIKE THAT AND DIP #ARE YOU OKAY?? #ARE YOU TALKING ABT A GAME???
hi! rhanks for the concern! 😁 i am unfortunately not talking about a game lens is actually dead please help me (dms r open 🙏🙏)
#Since I've gotten a lot of followers recently I feel like I should boost this #I'm busy with my own issues but maybe someone else can help?
(5,204 notes)
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⚪ fuckingcircles Follow
i want my SHOW BACK i want my CO HOSTS BACK i want calculatory DEAD i only MILDLY HATE happy star i dont KNOW WHAT ELSE TO COMPLAIN ABOUT
🥝 gela-not-jelly Follow
🫵 Fanny kinnie
⚪ fuckingcircles Follow
who the FUCK is fanny
#im CIRCLE not a goddamn FAN #who even names themselves fanny anyway
(382 notes)
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⚪battleforcircle asked: oml spiderman pointing meme
⚪ fuckingcircles Follow
you sent me this FIFTEEN TIMES get OUT of my ASKBOX!!!!
📉 storyboard-but-better Follow
why are there two of you...
⚪ fuckingcircles Follow
theres only ONE of me i dont know who this IS!!
⚪battleforcircle Follow
theres three of us just three of us
#idk why either tbh #tumblr just recommended his acc to me one day #he seems fun to annoy tho so ive taken it upon myself to do so #tee hee
(89 notes)
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📶 she-walkie-on-my-talkie-till Follow
Hey so why is a known criminal on Tumblr?
📶 she-walkie-on-my-talkie-till Follow
Hello???
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wilwheaton · 1 year ago
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When you watch The Curse, you are watching two children who were abused and exploited daily during production. No adults protected us.
This was originally published on my blog in August, 2022.
I had a wonderful time at Steel City Comicon this weekend. It was my first time at this particular con, so I didn’t know there was such a huge contingent of horror fans, creators, and vendors who attend.
I love horror, and I was pretty psyched to be in the same place as John Carpenter and Tom Savini, across the street from the Dawn of the Dead mall. Pittsburgh feels like one of the places horror was invented, at least to me.
A number of these horror fans came to see me, and asked me to sign posters and other things from a movie my parents forced me to do when I was 13, called The Curse. I had to tell each of these people that I would not sign anything associated with that movie, because I was abused and exploited during production. The time I spent on that film remains the most traumatizing time of my life, and though I am a 50 year-old man, just typing this now makes my hands shake with remembered fear of a 13 year-old boy who nobody protected, and the absolute fury the 50 year-old man feels toward the people who hurt him.
I told this story in Still Just A Geek, and I’ve talked about it in some podcasts I did on the promo tour, but I’ve never put it out in public like this, in its entirety.
I suspect someone at the publisher would prefer I tease this and hope it drives book sales from people who want to read all of it, but I honestly don’t want to have another weekend like this one where everything is awesome, except the few times people who have no idea (and why should they) put that fucking poster in front of me, and all the fear, abandonment, and trauma come flooding back as I tell them that I won’t sign it, and why.
To their credit, each person was as horrified as they should have been, told me they had no idea (if they didn’t read my book why would they), and quickly put the poster away. They were all understanding. I am grateful for that.
But I really don’t need to tell this story over and over again, so here it is, with a child abuse and exploitation content warning, so I can just tell people to Google it.
After Stand by Me, everything changed. The attention from entertainment journalists, casting directors, and especially teen magazines came pouring in. The movie was a generational hit, beloved by critics and audiences alike, and every single one of us could pick anything to do next.
River’s parents and his agent got him Mosquito Coast, with Harrison Ford, as his next movie. I also auditioned for the role, but I knew even then that River was going to book the job. He was perfect, and I’d have to wait a little bit for my opportunity to come along.
I went on a lot of theatrical auditions after Stand by Me. I had tons of meetings with directors and the heads of casting at every major studio. It was all a very big deal, and I felt like we were all looking for something really special and amazing as my follow-up to Stand by Me.
At some point, a couple of producers contacted my agent with an offer to play one of the leads in an adaptation of H. P. Lovecraft’s “The Colour Out of Space.” The script was titled The Farm. (It would, of course, be changed when the film was released).
I read it. I did not like it. It was a shitty horror movie, and I saw that right away. It was the sort of thing you rented on Friday when the new release you wanted was already out of the store.
My mother, already an incredibly manipulative person, used every tool at her disposal to change my mind. My father threatened me, mocked me, told me “It’s your decision” when it clearly wasn’t. It was all so weird; I didn’t understand why they cared so much.
I told my parents I didn’t like it and didn’t want to do it. I clearly recall thinking it was a piece of shit that would hurt my career.
It wasn’t the first thing that had come our way that I wanted to pass on, and every other time, it hadn’t been a very big deal.
Sidebar: I was cast in Twilight Zone: The Movie, in 1983. The film tells four stories, and I was cast as the kid who can wish people into cartoonland. It was a GREAT role, in a movie I still love. (Note that Twilight Zone had four directors. One of them got three people killed. The segment I was cast in was not that one. I mention this because too many people zero in on this to deflect from what this whole thing is actually about.)
But I was CONVINCED by my parochial school teacher that if I worked on The Twilight Zone, which she had determined was satanic, I would go to hell. (This woman and her bullshit played a big role in my conversion to atheism at a young age, but when she told me that, I was all-in on the supernatural story they taught us in religion class.) I was so scared, more scared than I’d ever been to that point in my life, I cried and wailed and begged my parents to not make me do the movie. And I never told them why, because I was afraid my dad would laugh at me for being weak and afraid. My agent tried to talk me into it, and I wouldn’t budge. It’s the only thing I deeply and truly regret passing on, and I really hate I made that choice for such a stupid reason.
Okay. Back to The Curse.
This time, when I told them how much I hated it, they wouldn’t listen to me. My mother, already an incredibly manipulative person, used every tool at her disposal to change my mind. My father threatened me, mocked me, told me “It’s your decision” when it clearly wasn’t. It was all so weird; I didn’t understand why they cared so much.
That is, until they made me take a meeting with the producers of the movie, in their giant conference room on the top floor of a tall building in Hollywood. All I remember about this place was that it was huge; the table was way too big for the five of us who spread around it, and there were floor-to-ceiling windows on three of the walls, but the room was still dark. There was a weird optical illusion in the center of the table, this thing they sold in the Sharper Image catalog, made from two reflective dishes with a hole in the top of one. You placed an object in the bottom of the bottom dish, and it made it look like that object was floating above the whole thing. They had a plastic spider in it. What a strange detail for me to remember, but it’s as clear in my memory as if I were sitting in that room right now.
One man, who I presumed was the executive producer, was European or Middle Eastern (I didn’t know the difference then, he was just Not Like People I Knew), and I was instantly afraid of him. He was intimidating, and seemed like a person who got what he wanted.
So we sat there, my father who didn’t give a shit about me, my mother who was cosplaying as someone with experience, and me, thirteen years old, awkward as fuck, and scared to death.
I don’t remember what they said to me in their pitch or anything other than how uncomfortable and anxious I was to even be in that room. I tried so hard to be grown up and mature, but I — and my parents — was way out of my depth. I’d done one big movie and that was it. We didn’t have my agent with us, who had lots of experience and would have known what questions to ask.
No, in place of my experienced agent, my mother had decided she was going to be my manager, and she tackled the responsibility with an enthusiasm that was only matched by her absolute incompetence and inability to go toe-to-toe with producers the way my agent did. She was outwitted, out-thought, and outmaneuvered at every turn.
“You don’t have a choice,” my father commanded. “You are doing this movie.”
So we sat there, my father who didn’t give a shit about me, my mother who was cosplaying as someone with experience, and me, thirteen years old, awkward as fuck, and scared to death.
At some point, this man, who is represented in my memory by big Jim Jones sunglasses under dark hair above an open collar, said, “We are offering you a hundred thousand dollars and round-trip travel for your whole family. We will cast your sister, Amy, to play your sister in the movie.”
It all made sense, now. I was only thirteen, but I knew my parents were pushing me so hard because this company was offering me — them, really — more money than I’d ever imagined I’d earn in my life, much less a single job.
I knew that the right thing to do, the smart thing to do, was to say no. There would be other opportunities, and it was stupid to cash myself out of feature films for what I thought was, in the grand scheme of things, not very much money.
It’s incredible to me that I knew all of this. It’s incredible to me that I could see all these things, plainly and clearly, and my parents couldn’t (or, more likely, chose not to).
So after this man made his offer, all the adults in the room ganged up on me, selling me HARD on this movie.
My mother said, “Don’t you want your sister to have the same opportunities you’ve had? Wouldn’t it be fun and exciting to go to Rome? Think of all the history!”
The experience was awful. It was the worst experience I have ever had on a set in my life, by every single metric. The movie is awful, and it is the embarrassment I knew it would be.
I don’t think about this very often, because it’s super upsetting to me. Right now, I’m so angry at my parents for subjecting me and my sister to this entire experience. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
In that moment, I felt bullied and trapped. All these adults were talking to me at the same time, and I just wanted it to stop. I just wanted to go home and get out of this room. I just wanted to go be a kid, so I did what I’d learned to do to survive: I gave in and did what my parents wanted.
The experience was awful. It was the worst experience I have ever had on a set in my life, by every single metric. The movie is awful, and it is the embarrassment I knew it would be.
But here’s the thing: when you watch The Curse, you are watching two children, me and my sister, who were abused on a daily basis. The production did not follow a single labor law. They worked us for twelve hours a day, on multiple film units (while I work on First unit, second unit sets up and waits for me. When I should get a break to rest, they send me to Second unit, then to Third unit, then back to First unit. I was 13.) without any breaks, five days a week. I was exhausted the entire time. I was inappropriately touched by two different adults during production. I knew it was wrong, but I was so scared and ashamed, and I felt so unsupported, I didn’t tell anyone. I knew my dad wouldn’t believe me, and my mother would blame me. Anything to keep the production happy, that’s what she did. That was more important to her than the health and safety of her children. The director was coked out of his mind most of the time, incompetent, and so busy fucking or trying to fuck one of the women in the cast, he was worse than useless. He was a fading actor who was cosplaying as a director, as in over his head as my mother. My sister and I were never safe. Instead of harmless atmospheric SFX smoke, they set hay on fire in barrels and blew actual smoke onto the set. They took buckets of talc, broken wood, bits of wallpaper and plaster, and threw it into my face during a scene inside the collapsing house. My sister is in a scene where she goes to get eggs from some chickens, and they attack her. So they hired Lucio Fulci, the Italian horror master, to direct her sequence. His idea, which everyone was totally on board with, was to throw chickens at my sister. Live chickens, live roosters, live birds. Just throw them at a nine-year-old girl. Oh, and then tie them to her arms and legs so they’ll peck her. All of this happened under my mother’s observation, and with her full participation.
Everything I need to know about who my parents are is wrapped up in that experience: the total lack of concern for my safety and happiness, treating me like an asset instead of a son, lying to me, manipulating me, and using me to get things they wanted, and then gaslighting me about it.
If just ONE of the things I can remember happened to someone I loved, I would have grabbed my kids, gone to the airport, and flown home. Fuck those abusive assholes in the production. Let the lawyers sort it all out. Nobody hurts my children and gets away with it.
My mom says she “had some talks” with the producers. She claims that, once, she wouldn’t let us leave the hotel. (God, what a fucking dump that place was. It was just slightly better than a hostel.) I have no memory of that, but honestly the entire experience was so traumatic, I’ve blocked most of it out.
The movie was the commercial and critical failure I knew it would be. My parents spent the money. I don’t know what they spent it on. I got to keep fifteen cents of every dollar, so . . . yay?
My sister and I hardly ever talk about this. I suspect it was as upsetting and traumatic for her as it was for me. I told her I was writing about it, and asked her if she remembered anything. She told me she’d been lied to her whole life about this movie. Our mother let her believe she had been cast on the strength of her audition. “I was excited to work with you,” she said. She reminded me about some stuff I’d blocked out, including a scene where my character’s older brother (played by an actor named Malcolm Danare, who was kind and gentle, and made both of us feel safer when he was around) shoves my character into a pile of cow shit. When it came time to shoot the scene, the mud they’d put together to be the cow shit looked an awful lot like cow shit. When Malcolm pushed me into it, we all found out it was real cow shit. I was FURIOUS. The director had lied to me and had allowed me to have my entire body shoved into an actual pile of actual cow shit. I don’t remember what I said, but I remember he treated me the exact same way my father did whenever I got upset: he laughed at me, told me I was being too sensitive, reminded me that he was the director and he wanted to get a “real” performance out of me, and concluded, “If it bothers you so much, we’ll get you a hepatitis shot,” before he walked away.
My sister also recalled that, after she survived the scene with the chickens, it was the producers’ idea to give her one as a pet.
Okay, let’s unpack that for a quick second: you’ve been traumatized by these birds, so we’re going to give you one as a pet. That you’ll somehow keep in your hotel, and then will somehow get back to America. It will shock you to learn that neither of those things happened.
She remembered, as I do, the huge fight I had with my parents in our kitchen, where I told them I hated the script and I hated the movie. I didn’t want to do it, and I hated that they were making me do it.
“You don’t have a choice,” my father commanded. “You are doing this movie.”
“This is the only film you are being offered,” my mother lied to me. She made me feel like, if I didn’t do this movie, I would never do another movie again in my life. I had to do this movie. As my father bellowed, I had no choice.
Both of my parents denied this argument ever happened. Can I tell you how reassuring it is to know that my sister, who was also there, remembers it the same way I do?
The makeup department decided they would literally cut my little sister’s face with a scalpel, in three places, and put bandages over them.
But one thing she told me, the thing I did not know, the thing that makes me so angry I want to break things, actually managed to make the entire experience even worse than I remembered it.
There’s a scene after her chicken incident where I check up on her in her bedroom. She’s got cuts and bruises, and I guess we talk about it. I don’t remember and I can’t watch the movie because I’m terrified it will give me a PTSD flashback (I’ve had one of those and I recommend avoiding it). Here’s the thing about that scene: she has some cuts on her face, and those cuts are real. They are not makeup.
I’m going to repeat that. My nine-year-old little sister had actual cuts on her face that were placed there by an adult, on purpose.
The makeup department decided they would literally cut my little sister’s face with a scalpel, in three places, and put bandages over them. My sister told me our mother wasn’t in the makeup room when this happened — honestly, it seemed like our mother was strangely and conveniently absent when most of the really terrible things happened to us on the set — and when my sister told her what they’d done, she “lost her shit” at the production. She was pissed, I guess, which is appropriate and surprising. I wonder what would have to have happened for her to put us on a plane and get us home to safety? I mean, her son being abused daily didn’t do it, and her daughter being CUT IN THE FACE ON PURPOSE didn’t do it.
I just . . . I can’t. I can’t understand or comprehend allowing your own children to be physically and emotionally abused. They were literally selling my sister and me to these people, like we were some kind of commodity.
This was a tough conversation. My sister’s experience with our parents is very different from mine. My sister and I love each other. We’re close. I know it’s hard for her to hear that her brother, who she loves, was so abused by her parents, who she also loves. I was really grateful she made the time to talk to me about it, and grateful the experience wasn’t as horrible for her as it was for me.
As we were finishing our call, Amy also remembered one man, a young Italian named Luka, who was our driver for the movie. I haven’t thought about him in thirty years, but I can see his face now. He was kind, he was friendly, he taught us how to kick a soccer ball, and in the middle of an abusive, torturous experience, he stood out as a kind and gentle man. I mention him because she remembered him, which made me remember him, and goddammit I want at least one small part of this thing to not be awful.
The Curse remains one of the most consequential times the adults in my life failed to protect me. I’m 50. I still have nightmares.
Ultimately, as I predicted and feared, this piece of shit movie cashed me out of respectable films forever. I got offers for movies, but they were always mindless comedies or exploitative horror films. They were never the serious dramas I wanted to work in after Stand by Me. The industry looked at me and River, wondering if one or both of us would become a breakout star. They quickly saw that River was doing real acting work, and I was in this piece of shit. For River, Stand by Me was a beginning. For me, it would turn out to be pretty much everything, at least as far as film goes.
There are thousands of reasons film careers do and don’t take off. Maybe mine wouldn’t have taken off anyway. Clearly, it’s not where my life ended up, and I’m super okay with that now. But when all of this happened, it hurt and haunted me.
The Curse remains one of the most consequential times the adults in my life failed to protect me. I’m 50. I still have nightmares. Everything I need to know about who my parents are is wrapped up in that experience: the total lack of concern for my safety and happiness, treating me like an asset instead of a son, lying to me, manipulating me, and using me to get things they wanted, and then gaslighting me about it.
This annotation is the last thing I wrote before I turned this manuscript in, because opening these wounds is hard and painful. I put it off as long as I could, and I feel like I’m still holding back, because just this small glimpse of the experience has taken me a week to write. I can’t imagine trying to go back and unpack the whole thing. (Note that is not in the book: I’ve made an EMDR appointment to work on this because the nightmares have come back after the weekend).
Fuck The Curse, and fuck every single person who exploited and hurt two beautiful children to make it. You all participated in child abuse, and you all knew better. Shame on all of you. I hope this follows you to the end of your life. I hope that living with what you did to innocent children has been as hard for you as it has been for me, because you deserve no less.
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