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luveline · 3 months

Note

can I request something where Spencer is already with and married to y/n and the rest of the team has never known about her and one day they find out he’s married when she meets the team for the first time coming to bring him lunch maybe and the team is just taken aback after all the teasing they used to do to him because y/n is just so beautiful and flirty and they weren’t expecting any of it? And Spencer is just like “yeah I did that 👀😌💅🏼”

thank you for requesting !! hope this is okay, fem!reader

“I have something I need to tell you.”

Derek looks up from his desk with an eyebrow raised. “I don’t like the sounds of that.”

“I know you’re going to blow it out of proportion,” Spencer says, adjusting the strap of his watch where it lays over his sweater sleeve. “So I think I should tell you about it before she gets here with my lunch.”

Derek leans back in his chair and tosses the clipboard he’s ticking through into a pile of outgoings. “I’ll bite. ‘She’?”

Spencer holds his hands clasped in front of himself, looking cagey. “Listen, I wanted to tell you, I wanted to tell the whole team, but it happened so quickly, and then I got it in my head that everyone would be mad at me or make fun of me and I didn’t want to deal with it so I didn’t tell you, and now it’s been a year and I kind of want to brag.” He ducks his head, scratches his neck, and refuses to meet Derek’s eye. “I wanted to tell you.”

“Reid, man, what are you talking about?” Derek feels himself soften. “I’m not mad at you, pretty boy. Just tell me what’s going on.”

“She’s over there,” Spencer says, pointing.

Derek follows his friend’s hand to you. You’re a lovely thing to look at because you’re smiling like you’ve never been happier, and you’re dressed in a simple, elegant sort of style that gives you a timeless feel, like you could’ve been in a romantic movie in the 50’s or just got back from walking the shiny streets of Paris. You aren’t his type at first glance, but you could be, the way you’re looking at him.

“Derek Morgan,” you say as you approach, your little black purse slipping down your shoulder, “I can’t believe it’s you.”

“You’ll have to forgive me, sweetheart, do I know you?” Derek asks.

You give Spencer a loving, sorry look. “You didn’t tell him?”

“Sorry! I tried, but you know. I was nervous and I kind of chickened out when you got here.”

You shift the white plastic bag you’re holding in two hands to the crook of one arm and beckon him into your side. “It’s fine,” you say, leaning upward to kiss his pale cheek, “it’s okay, don’t worry about it. I like introducing myself, you know that already.” You give him a last friendly pat before removing yourself, your hand just close enough to brush against his as you offer your name. “I’m Spencer’s wife,” you add.

Derek laughs, the low first chuckle of disbelief. Spencer’s watching him carefully, and he thinks, oh, maybe she’s not kidding. “His wife.”

“Yes,” you say, taking Spencer’s shoulder into your hand. You don’t seem to notice that he’s a good few inches taller than you. “And I’m so happy to meet you, you know? I’ve heard so much about you, about everyone! I realise we waited too long. S’gonna make sending you the registry pretty awkward.”

Spencer laughs. You look at him like he’s put the sun in the sky.

“Sorry, I don’t think I understand.”

You turn your hand to show Derek the gold wedding band on your marriage finger. “For a year, almost.”

There’s just no way.

Derek watches in quiet shock as Emily and Hotch descend the steps into the bullpen. “Hi,” Emily says, plainly confused.

“Hi,” you say, deferring to Spencer with an encouraging glance.

Spencer puts his arm behind your shoulder, and Derek realises loverboy isn’t lying after all. The way he touches you is too familiar, speaking to a longstanding sort of love. His thumb immediately rubs gentle semi-circles into the fabric of your cardigan, circles you likely can’t even feel. “This is Y/N, she’s… my wife. We got married.”

“And didn’t invite us,” Derek says.

“You what?” Emily asks, head snapping to the side.

Hotch is smiling at you. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“You knew?” Emily asks.

“It altered his health insurance,” Hotch says nonchalantly, stepping forward to shake your hand.

“I’m thrilled to meet you, Mr. Hotchner.” Your eyes are sparkling. Derek can understand why Spencer’s married you from that look alone; you look overjoyed to be here, and to be speaking to them. “And you too, Emily. I've heard amazing things about all of you.”

“Wait a minute, when did this happen? Wha–” Emily shakes her head. “I feel like I’m on reality television.”

You turn to Spencer again, your eyes following up his cheek, a caress of a gaze as you begin to tell the story, “Well, we met by accident by at Christmas market on Cassidy square trying to buy stamps for cards, so that was sort of our first date a year and two months ago, but we didn’t get married until February, so a year.”

“You got married after two months?” Emily asks, saving Derek the breath but not the sentiment.

You don’t so much as wince, nor does Spencer. “It might’ve been unfair to her for me to rush things, but it didn’t feel like rushing at the time,” Spencer says surely.

Derek knows that Hotch would’ve mentioned you months ago if you were nefarious. You certainly don’t seem nefarious, melting under Spencer’s touching, your almost frantic excitement to be meeting them quelled to a softer happiness.

“Do you have any photos?” Emily asks.

It’s Spencer who moves for his pocket and pulls out his wallet. He flicks it open and pulls a photo from the clear window, unfolding it to reveal a shiny six by four of the two of you outside of a courthouse. Your dress is white and silk, his tuxedo made to fit. You both look amazing, but better, you look so, so happy.

“This is the weirdest prank ever,” Emily says.

You lay your cheek against his shoulder. “I’m the luckiest girl in the world.”

Spencer shuffles through a hundred shades of pink. Derek struggles to wrap his head around it, but he can’t wait to tell Penelope.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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cyberm4n · 3 months

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OK, I NEED SO BAD Adam,Alastor and Husk smut hc's with a hypersexual fem!Reader 😭. Maybe after both finished a round (One of all they had lol), a few seconds pass and she says smiling "can we do it again?" But they have already crossed their own limit.

Sorry for my Bad English 😿

BAHAHA I LOVE THIS IDEA

i had to do a little research on being hypersexual to make sure i was doing this right but if i got anything wrong/inaccurate please let me know!!

cw: smut, reader gets eaten out, reference to rough sex?

alastor —

■ looks im imagining this to be so funny cause alastor is big on rough sex so like moments after fucking you senseless only for you to be like "again? :D" REALLY MESSES WITH HIM

■ like especially cause he feels spent, like he put a lot of effort in there and like??? you're just straight back to normal?? you want more??? how?

■ i think if he's completely spent he'll summon his like shadow self and then it becomes a mental thing

■ cause he's still controlling that but he's not having to do the physical work

■ but otherwise i think he'd probably have a toy for after in the future

■ hear me out but like he's JUST filled you up with his cum and hes immediately pushing a vibrator into you that's on max, making sure you stay all marked up and too stupid to beg for more

■ he'd adjust just fine

adam —

■ this is even more funny to me cause like he's 100% the type to slump over on you after hes cum, still sheathed in you.

■ he seems the type to want multiple rounds so let's say this is like round 3 just finished

■ so when you're like "again please?" literally less than a minute later his eyes snap open

■ like, he knows women typically come back faster than men from this shit but like he's pretty certain he's gonna start shooting blanks if he goes any more

■ there's a beat of silence before he's like "are you fucking serious" and you pout a little, assuming he's making fun of you

■ but like it's adam, this man LOVES sex so the fact you're like so down all the time is great

■ i dont see him being the type to have toys for you (he definitely owns one of those men's masturbaters tho) so he'd find other solutions

■ it's 50/50 he either has you cock warm him until he's ready to go again or he's eating you out like there's no tomorrow

husk —

■ okay he'd be so confused

■ he's a 1 round kind of man but like, he's barely even pulled out and you're like "can we do it again?" with a smile

■ and he's shocked to hear you mean like, right now

■ he'd adjust fine to it though

■ again, don't think he'd have toys but he's cool to go down on you

■ his favorite is rubbing your clit though, just his fingers

■ maybe he'd eventually get a little vibrator or something for you

■ just wanting to make sure you're happy <3

■ i think husk would be the only one to really ask questions abt it, yknow kinda figure out your preferences and stuff

■ he knows he doesn't work the same so he wants to make sure he's treating you well

■ but if you let him eat you out it's like a perfect wind down activity he definitely gets sucked into

■ eyes closed, going to town in making you moan and quiver. like he'd get soo pussy drunk

■ and he's ripping orgasms out of you with no problem, you'll probably have to tell him to stop.

long story short, all 3 absolutely love the fact you're hypersexual and they embrace it :)

#alastor smut #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel husk #husk smut #husk x reader #adam smut #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel adam #adam x reader #husker hazbin hotel

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orteil42 · 9 months

Text

Cookie Clicker turns 10 today! Having outlived our enemies, let us celebrate with a fresh batch of announcements!

🍪First of all, Cookie Clicker is 40% off on Steam this week! The perfect gift for your loved and/or hated ones! (the web version is still free forever but you don't get Steam achievements or music by C418!)

🍪Secondly! The mobile version has been lagging behind the browser game for years and is in dire need of an update. I've been dedicating most of my time recently to bringing its content up to par! Here's a progress report:

Compared to the current version, this update adds back 284 upgrades and 179 achievements from the web game, which leaves 83 upgrades and 94 achievements still unimplemented plus a good amount of heavenly upgrades. I am determined to close that gap!

Seasons and the pet dragon are currently partially implemented. These are complicated, compound features with side-effects in all kinds of places so once the update gets an alpha release I'll likely be needing everyone's help to hunt for bugs and oversights. I'm being as thorough as possible but there's no way I didn't forget some obscure interplay somewhere!

I'm also updating the UI! Cookie Clicker's interface makes heavy use of woodwork, which is largely absent from the mobile version; I've been aiming to bring it back. Rather than recycling desktop assets, I'm looking to push the game's visual identity towards less "plain wooden boards" and more "victorian biscuit shop" (something I'd have liked to go for when I first made the game but didn't quite know how yet). Here's some early screenshots!

I'm using Blender for the new assets, I might make a more in-depth post about my process in the future. Please note that these are experimental and I'm still fiddling with the look! Once I'm happy with it I'll ideally be giving the desktop game a similar makeover.

This update will hopefully come out later this year and will likely involve multiple rounds of alpha. Once stable, future updates will focus on adding sugar lumps and as many of the minigames as possible.

🍪Thirdly: the Makeship grandma plushie is real and we're doing a giveaway! Please read this twitter post to enter. Note that if the launch campaign succeeds we've got other plushies in mind! Maybe a wrinkler?

🍪Fourthly - there was going to be a really cool announcement here but I've been informed I'm not yet at liberty to discuss it. It's sooooo cool tho trust me. things happening. u gotta take my word for it. tune in next time

🍪Lastly:

i've got enough dough for like, idk 50 more? mom's recipe. white+dark+milk chocolate. they're very good thank you

PS. thank you for playing with us all these years! odds are some of you reading this have been here since the very start. that's mad to think about! Opti and I couldn't have done this for 10 whole years without all of you hyping us up. i want to see if we can do 10 more. get real freaky with it

#cookie clicker

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peachesofteal · 4 months

Text

Simple Math / Part Six

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4k words - AO3 Warnings - tags: 18+ MDNI. No smut but this fic contains mature themes. Nurse reader, hospital setting, medical inaccuracies. Reference to past domestic violence. Angst. Alcohol. Crying, anxiety, panic. Johnny in distress. Johnny is still a menace. Soft dads. POV switches. Note: Safe sleep for infants always. I do not endorse sleeping with your baby in your bed. This is a fic not real life. Simon does some digging.

“Shhh now, ye’re alright.”

Johnny coos, Penny cradled up to his chest. He’s not wearing a shirt, eyes still half sealed shut with sleep, and she squalls in his arms, screaming as loud as her little lungs will allow. “What is it, mah wee lamb? Are ye hungry? Do ye need a change?” He checks her nappy, efficiently looking for a mess or something to clean up and is nearly disappointed when he finds her still dry. If it’s not her nappy, then maybe her stomach? Could she be hungry again? He thumbs through the notes on his phone to find Simon’s last entry: 23:20 – 50 ML.

That was only an hour ago.

He frowns, walking in a circle, bouncing her gently, trying to settle her back to sleep. She’s so tiny, and still has grown so much in just the short time since they brought her home. It amazes him. It terrifies him.

“What is it, sweet bairn? What’s got ye all upset?” He touches his lips to softest skin he’s ever felt, his thumb trying to swipe away the tracks of tears on her cheeks. “Please dinnae cry. I-“

“You okay?” Simon clears his throat behind him, and Johnny tenses.

“We’re fine. Ye’re supposed to be sleepin’.”

“Heard the two of you in here fussing. Thought I could help.” Simon’s trying to be supportive, trying to be a good partner, Johnny knows, but all he can feel is irritation, a defensive reaction making his hackles rise.

It’s not fair. He’s so good at it. He’s a natural. And Johnny… Johnny feels like he’s failing his own kid, when she’s not even a month old yet.

“I dinnae need-“

“Hey.” Simon touches his elbow, and then his chin, tilting his face upwards. “I know you don’t, love. You’re doing a great job. It’s not your fault she’s having a rough go.” He soothes him, fingers kneading into the top of his spine, squeezing the nape of his neck and pulling him into his arms. Penny is still crying, but softer now, a low-pitched tone of misery that makes his heart ache, and he feels so overwhelmed, so helpless, staring down at her as she tries desperately to tell him what's wrong, the only way she knows how. He rests his cheek against Simon’s chest, melting into his hold, letting him wrap his arms all way around his waist.

“She hates me.” Johnny grumbles, and Simon presses his mouth to Johnny’s temple in short, succinct kisses.

“She doesn’t. She’s brand new. She can’t hate anything, yet, and certainly not her Da.” He strokes her cheek. “Let’s bring her to bed, see if we can get her down and then one of us can put her back in the crib, alright?” Johnny sighs.

“Alright.”

“What’re you doing after this?”

“Going to bed?” What else would you be doing?

“I’m thinking about going to Jackie’s for a drink… wanna come?” Nia untucks her scrubs, pulling the top up over her head.

“Jackie’s, huh?” You chew on your lip. You shouldn’t. You really, really shouldn’t. But… Jackie’s is a dive. It’s dark, and dingy, with black walls, black floors, no window in sight. And... it’s a hospital haunt.

“It’s my birthday.” She whispers, casting a glance around the rest of the room. “I’m not… it’s not a thing, I just want to go, have a few to celebrate.” You take a deep breath. “Please?” She tacks on at the end, and your shoulders dip down in defeat.

“Okay. One. And then I gotta go.”

“Yes!” She cheers, excitement smashing her palms together.

Nothing like a seven am beer.

Jackie’s is a distinct place. It’s one of the only twenty-four-hour liquor licenses left in the city, or so you’ve been told, and has been frequented by hospital staff for decades. It’s dart boards and dark wood floors, cheap beer and rail vodka, a worn to hell pool table, and an old, disabled juke box that someone broke intentionally, years ago. It’s an institution, and reminds you of some old places you used to frequent, when you weren’t… who you are now. Years ago, before, you used to love a good dive bar. Didn’t mind the way the floor stuck to your feet, and you considered yourself nearly tactical at darts. It was a source of pride, the accuracy, the rate at which you could make a bullseye, even when you were a few sheets to the wind.

“Coulda been a surgeon.” You’d tease, a smirk growing across your boyfriend’s face.

“If you were a surgeon, sugar, who’d be at home waitin’ for me after work?” He’d push back, coating the warning in an adoration, giving whoever was undoubtedly watching a slick smile before snaking an arm around your waist and tugging you close. “You don’t need to be surgeon. You don’t even need to work. You have me.”

You thought you knew, then. Knew how to handle it, how to navigate the ever-present, ever-growing threat… but you were wrong.

You were so, so wrong.

“So, heard there’s a spot opening up on days.” Nia chucks her purse at the bar top, climbing onto the stool next to you. “You’ve got the seniority… you givin’ it any thought?” The bartender walks by with a hello, and you nod at him.

“Old Speck please. And no, I like nights.” She raises an eyebrow.

“Didn’t know Americans liked Old Speck.”

“We have it in the states. I didn’t live under a rock.” You quip, and she laughs before ordering her own poison, a choice that makes your own eyebrows shoot up in question. “Vodka on the rocks?”

“I’m a straight to the point kind of girl.” She explains. “So, no days?”

“No days. You?”

“I might. Night shift is kicking my ass.” She complains. “Don’t even know what day it is half the time. My rhythm is off.”

“You need like, at least six months to fully adjust.” You put a note down in exchange for your beer, and then the bartender scuttles away, distracted by some insistent woman at the other end of the bar.

“Six months?!” You’re about to launch into your spiel about how it’s not that bad when your phone vibrates in your pocket.

>Make it home from work alright?

>It’s Johnny, by the way :)

The two texts are the start of a new group chat with your number, Johnny’s number and the number you put in your contacts just yesterday… Simon’s. Your head jerks back on instinct, confused.

“You okay?” Nia asks, and you nod.

“Yeah, fine just…uh-“ She peeks over your arm, and giggles.

“Is that your patient? Two sixty-eight?”

“What?”

“Your patient. The military hottie. The one that’s always lookin’ at your bum.” Your face burns, and she tsks. “Ah, don’t be embarrassed. He’s smokin’. Wish he looked at me the way he looks at you.” You’re surprised at the flare of irritation that starts up in your stomach at her, a hot streak of jealously simmering there, burning away indignantly. “Aren’t they… I mean… isn’t the scary mask guy his partner?” He’s not scary, you scowl inwardly. He’s just… protective. The butterflies in your stomach startle, and you drift back to last night, in the stairwell, in the car.

“You’re doing great, sweetheart.”

“If you ever need anything, Johnny and I… we’re here.”

Nia says your name, dragging you back to earth, and you shrug. “Yes… they… they’re together. It’s just been hard on them, so I think there’s a bit of an attachment growing there. You know, it’s not unusual.” She bites her lip, mouth pushing up into a smile.

“They’re quite fit. Wouldn’t mind if they formed an attachment to me.” She pauses, delicately sucking her gasoline on ice up through a straw. “Gonna text him back?”

“Nia.” You hiss, and she barks out a laugh.

“Oh, come on, just a bit of fun. I don’t mean anything by it.”

“It’s not appropriate.” You remind her, and she rolls her eyes.

“You’re such a stick in the mud sometimes. Remember when Marshall was fucking his brain cancer girl? Now that, was not appropriate.” You do remember- Marshall’s sudden absence, the whispering, the HR investigation that spanned weeks, interviews with everyone on the floor.

Your beer goes sour in your stomach.

“I gotta get home.” You wrap an arm around her shoulder with a squeeze and a whisper. “Happy Birthday.” You feel bad for abandoning her, and maybe in another life you might even consider her a friend, but you’re already too exposed here as it is, and staying any longer would be too indulgent- not to mention, incredibly stupid.

You pass another nurse on the way out and him know that Nia’s at the bar, alleviating your guilt just a tad before you hike up your hood and make a beeline for the train.

By the time you get back to your hotel room, get showered, and collapse on top of the far too big bed, it’s nearly been an hour. You plug your phone in, unlocking the screen to flick on do not disturb, and realize the group message is still open, cursor blinking, waiting for your response.

It’s fine. You can tell you got home okay, that’s not crossing any lines.

>Yeah, just got settled for bed. See you later!

A text from Simon chimes back within a minute, and you squint at it, one eye open.

>Get some rest.

The floor is dead silent at the beginning of your shift.

Nothing beeps or whines or cries, no noise echoes around the corner to where you’re scrolling through Johnny’s chart, getting caught up on his day, triple checking that his levels and vitals are all within normal range. He passed his follow up for the liver procedure with flying colors, and the relief you feel is not unexpected, the weight of worry lifting free from your shoulders without another thought.

He’s fine, he’s better than fine, he’s… too healthy for the ICU.

Reality hits you like a truck, and you stop short, sneakers squeaking along the floor.

He won’t be your patient anymore.

He won’t… be your patient anymore.

The thought twists you into a mess of complicated emotions. A snarled, tangled viper's nest of unknowns, uncertainties, things you're desperately trying to tuck back behind your heart, hide them away so no one, not even yourself, can see them.

This is a good thing. This is what you want. Stable patients, on their way to recovery.

So, you’ll miss them, that’s okay. There’s a little bit attachment, that’s alright.

This is the best case scenario. You’re making a mess of things. You’re getting too involved with your patient and his family. You let Simon drive you home, for fucks sake.

They’re getting confused, because you’re the caretaker. It happens all the time. As soon as Johnny steps down, they’ll forget all about you.

You’re risking too much. You’re risking their safety, their child’s safety, your own.

It’s for the best.

You put your best work smile on when you approach his room, pulling as much air into your lungs as you can manage.

Focus on your job. Your patient. You’re a professional.

Johnny is alone. No Simon, no visitors, nobody keeping him company. It’s a strange sight, and he looks almost uncomfortable, creased brow lowered down over his eyes. That’s… odd. Worse, there’s a heaviness in his gaze, sadness pulling his mouth downwards, usual playful demeanor nowhere in sight. Even sad, he’s a marvel, and every day, he gets stronger, he gets healthier, he gets closer to leaving this room, amazing you with his tenacity, his will.

“Hey, you on your own tonight?” You casually knock on the door frame, and then pull it shut behind you, cocking your head.

“Aye.” He’s sullen, his despair tugging you closer to the bed, an urge to try to comfort him too strong to deny.

“How are you feeling?” You try the subtle question, hoping he'll be forthcoming, and you keep yourself composed as you wait for his answer.

“’m alright.” You tab through his chart, glancing it over once more, if only to assuage your own anxieties, and then tap into his vitals. Everything looks good, last labs look great… so what’s going on?

“Just alright?” His fingers flex in the blanket, tanned skin against white linen, picking at fibers and threads, unable to hold himself still. He looks like he’s going to burst open at the seams, explode inside this room, a ticking time bomb, just waiting for the end of the countdown.

A tear tracks down his cheek. “Johnny?” You step closer, close enough so your fingers graze his, trying to delicately let him know, you’re here. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. What’s going on?” The monitor beeps steadily in the silence, his chest depresses with a gust of air.

“It’s… it’s nothin’ bun. I’m jus’… I’m havin’ a bad day.”

“Want to talk about it? I hear I’m a pretty good listener.” You encourage, and his face twists.

“No, I- Ach. Aye, alright.” He shifts in the bed, and you hover in case he needs help, but he waves you away. “It’s… bein’ in here. I want to be wi’ my family. Penny turned one, before I left for this assignment. Was only supposed to be two weeks tops, but then it turned into a month, then two. And now, I’m home… but ’m not really home, and I-“ His voice cracks, raw thread of agonized emotion separating his words, and he swallows it, forcing it back. “I’m blown to bits and cannae even see my own daughter. I’m missin’ out on everything.” Oh, Johnny. Your heart is heavy, and it hurts for him, bleeds as he wipes his face.

“You’re not blown to bits, just a little banged up.” You give him a soft smile, and when he shakes his head, your fingers find his on instinct. You don’t even stop to second guess yourself, fully sinking into the contact with a gentle squeeze. “Hey, look at me.” His lashes are wet, sticky with tears, and he sniffles. “You’re making great progress, Johnny, going to be out of here in no time. You won’t even be in the ICU much longer, and then once you’re downstairs, Penny will be able to come visit all the time. After that, it won’t be too much longer until you’re back home with them.” He nods, and you stroke your thumb across his knuckles.

“Ye think so?”

“You’re the toughest patient I’ve ever had, and I’ve had a fair amount, you know. Traumatic injury recovery takes time, it takes patience, but you’re doing a great job of it so far. You just have to take it one day at a time. Before you know it, you’ll be at home on your own couch, bossin’ Simon around all day instead of me.” He laughs at that, a throaty chuckle capable of spreading heady warmth through your veins, and then gives you one of those stupidly stunning smiles.

“Shouldnae be cryin’ in front of ye.”

“You can cry in front of me any time you want. That’s what I’m here for. Besides, it’s not the first time.” You tease and he rolls his eyes.

“Doesnae count. I was high.”

“Uh huh. Sure.” The untouched dinner tray on his side table catches your eye, and chilling worry reappears in the back of your mind. “You didn’t eat?”

“Didnae have an appetite until ye showed up, pretty girl.” Okay. You can remedy this easily, if he's interested in eating. Lack of appetite is alarming, but if you can get him to eat now...

“You hungry? I haven’t eaten yet. Want me to grab you something?” He brightens, indulging in a spectacular smile, and you take it as a yes with a small laugh. “Alright. Let me run down to the café, yeah?”

“What’s that saying, about how I hate to see ye go, but love to watch ye leav-“

“Okay!” you practically shout, cutting him off, fire racing across your skin, and he snickers, palm pressing against his heart like he’s wounded. “I’ll be right back.” You give him a serious look, and and he rubs his palm through his hair, mirth sparkling in his eyes. Holy hell. How is he so attractive? And how is it still so blinding, every time?

You get two of the only option left this late in the evening, chicken soup and some sourdough, balancing the bowls carefully on their trays until you’re placing them down in the room, swinging the little table over Johnny’s lap and settling in beside him, perched on Simon’s recliner. The soup is warm, spiced with herbs and thick with noodles, and you're pleased that it's better than you were expecting, happy that Johnny seems to like it as well.

"Wanted to take ye out properly for our first date, but this will have ta’ do. Simon’s gon’ be so bloody jealous.” He masterfully hums between your bites, and your eyes go wide, trying and failing to swallow your soup instead of choking on it.

“Johnny, we… this… I- this isn’t a date!” you squeak.

“Why not?” He asks, inflection innocent, and your brain rattles around inside your skull, splitting down the middle, falling apart in bewilderment. Why not? What does he mean?

“You… you have a partner. Simon? You know, your family that we were literally just talking about?” He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you with this look on his face, one you can’t interpret. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“What did Simon tell ye, the other night. When he took ye home?”

“What? He… I don’t remember.” Does he know that Simon gave you his phone number?

Of course, he knows, he started that group text.

Does Simon know what Johnny said, about you coming into their lives? About-

“Didnae he tell ye, we’re here for ye?”

“Y-yeah.”

“We, bunny? We.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand.” He sighs. What is he trying to say? What is going on?

“We like ye. Like I said, we think ye’re really special. Simon, and I. Together, bun.”

“Wh-what?” Puzzle pieces snap together and then break apart, like a landscape jigsaw that you spent days completing once before it was promptly ruined. Does he... does he mean... Oh. Oh no. Oh no no no. You have to squash this. Now. Just explain it, he’ll get it. He’s smart. “No… no, Johnny it’s just… it’s this thing, that happens. Patients get attached to their nurses or doctors sometimes, it’s normal. You d-don’t like me, I promise. There’s nothing even to like.” He blinks, jaw grinding under stubble. If Simon’s stare feels like he’s reading your mind, then Johnny’s is like being pinned down in one place, unable to move. You’re paralyzed, and powerless, lost in the icy blue sea of his eyes, drowning with a hand sticking out above the crest of the surf, reaching for him.

“Why would ye say that? That there’s nothin’ about ye to like? Nothin’ could be farther from the truth.”

“I don’t… there’s not. It’s… I’m your nurse, Johnny. That’s all.” Sweat glosses the small of your back, slicking upwards to cover your spine, and your heart hammers, it beats, beats, beats- so loudly you’re sure the pulse point in your wrist is visible. “Johnny.” His name shakes from your lips, and he relaxes, gentle concern replacing the relentless intensity in his gaze.

“Shhh, hey. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didnae mean to upset ye.” You're still frozen, a statue, and he reaches for you, trying to grab onto your hand. The heat of his skin breaks you from the spell, and you force a robotic, bedside smile onto your face, scooping up your half empty bowl.

"It's okay." You need to get out of this room. Now. The walls feel too close, Johnny feels too close, everything is compounding on top of you, threatening to derail your entire life, ruin your plan. They cannot like you. They cannot care about you. They cannot show interest in you. You can’t let this happen. “I’ve gotta check on some other patients, okay? I’ll swing back your way in a bit.” You promise him, guilt eating you alive about running away, and when he gives you a sad smile, you almost lose your resolve.

“Alright, pretty girl. I’ll see ye later, then.” He murmurs, and you try not to trip over feet during your hasty exit.

Fuck. You’re so fucked.

Simon and Johnny’s house is finally silent.

Penny is down, safely tucked into dream world, her grainy grey-scale image flickering on the video monitor at Simon as he pours two fingers worth of bourbon into a glass.

Poor baby girl. His stomach twists. She put up such a fight tonight, hollering at the top of her lungs, standing up in her crib, working herself into an absolute state. He hates leaving her alone to cry, and on nights like this one, the only way she’ll close her eyes is if she’s being held, snuggled in Johnny's arms, or against Simon's chest.

He’s a sucker, he knows. Doomed from the day she was born, but he can’t help it. Neither of them can. She’s their baby.

So, he doesn’t blame her for being so out of sorts. She always sleeps better when her Da is home. They both do.

His phone vibrates with a text, a short message from Johnny, and he scrolls through it, settling on the couch with his laptop, unopened email from Laswell blinking impatiently.

>She’s jumpy. Tired. Looks like she hasn’t gotten any sleep. Simon frowns.

> She manage to find a pair of panties for work today?

>Unfortunately. He can practically see the pout on Johnny’s lips, can hear the way he probably huffed and puffed when you first came into the room this evening, your hips swishing side to side, pretty smile on your face for him.

>I think I made her upset. Simon pinches the bridge of his nose. Johnny, love. Why can’t you listen? He takes a deep breath, trying to relax the worry that’s creeping up the back of his neck.

Disagreements aren’t for text messages. They’ve learned that the hard way.

>Take it easy for the rest of the night, then. She’s skittish. He shoots off the recommendation, and then pulls his laptop across his knee, clicking open the email from Kate.

Simon, Your girl is a ghost. This kind of wipe work is professional level… are you sure she’s a nurse? I’ve attached everything I could find, but it’s pretty scarce. The name you provided pulled a copy of her NHS nursing license, her taxes, an award she won at work last year, and a COVID vaccination record. No birth certificate, state identification, or public records of any kind, even after a global hand search. Nothing that even proves she exists or is an American except a sealed record from two years ago in the states. It’s not accessible, even for me, which means it could be WITSEC, or a court ordered name change in relation to a domestic violence case. There are 18 states that seal those records to protect the victim, so she could be from anywhere. My gut says it’s probably the latter, which is why she doesn’t exist prior to. You’ll notice on the vaccine record, she marked ‘unhoused’, and I couldn’t find any lease/rental agreements, sale records, or mortgages in her name. I wish I had more for you, but she really is a bit of a puzzle. I’ll keep digging. -K.L.

There’s an unsettling rattle going off in the front of Simon’s skull. It’s a siren, a smattering of warning bells, and he swallows the rest of the bourbon in one go, embracing the burn that slides down the back of his throat.

Who are you, little bunny? And who are you running from?

#peaches writes #simple math #ghoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #john soap mactavish #simon riley #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #ghost x reader x soap #soap x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader x ghost

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tootiecakes234 · 5 months

Text

First “I love you” from Katsuki

Katsuki has been your boyfriend for about 3 months now and it was going great.

You guys were in the store doing his weekly grocery shopping.

“Since we are doing the work of grocery shopping right now, it means we can’t do the work of cooking when we get home Katsuki. We have to stop and get take out on the way home. It’s girl math”, you were explaining to him.

“What kinda dumb shit reasoning is that? The fuck is a girl math?”

He was walking at a brisk pace because he has a list of what he needs and that’s all he’s in here for. Katsuki does not like aimlessly scrolling and shopping. Perfect for you because you got anxiety in the grocery store.

“So you don’t actually watch all the TikTok’s I send you?? So you don’t actually care about me?” You were looking at him with a fake pout on your face to support your teasing.

“You send me 50 fucking videos at one time! I can’t watch every single one of them. I don’t have enough time in my day.”

“Wow! So you’re breaking up with me?? I can’t believe this”

Katsuki no longer entertains you. He just keeps walking and picking up the things he needs.

“I can’t believe our time together has come to an end. I really thought we could’ve been something.”

He continues to ignore you and starts heading for the register having finished checking off his list.

“You forgot to get your protein powder. You used the last of it this morning in your smoothie.” You told him before he actually got in line.

“Fuck, I forgot. I didn’t add it to my list.”, he mumbled looking at you like he was a shocked you’d noticed.

“Go ahead and get in line and I’ll go grab it. You like the peanut butter one right?”

“Uh… yea.”

You leave and go grab the powder and by the time you get back he’s almost done checking out. He pays and you guys head out to his car.

You help him unload everything and then hop in your seat while he puts up the cart. When he gets inside you’re scrolling on your phone while waiting.

You look up at him and smile.

“You promised I could control the music on the way home. Get prepared for non stop break up songs to cope with us being over.”

He looks you in your eyes and the words just kinda tumble out of his mouth, “ Y’know I love you right?”

Your mouth falls open a little and your eyes are stretched wide open. You can’t believe he just said that!? He’s never said that to you before.

It takes you a few seconds before your find words to use, “So we aren’t breaking up?”

Katsuki actually chuckles at you before he leans in and presses his lips softly against yours.

When he pulls back he asks you, “so where are we getting takeout from?”

The grin on your face is huge as you both get situated and buckle yourselves in.

As he starts driving you look over at him and you can see the little smile sitting on his lips.

“Y’know I love you too right?” You say mocking him.

“Obviously. I’m fucking amazing” he says all confidently even though there’s a deep blush settling in over his face.

Katsuki Masterlist

#imagine #bakugou x reader #mha fanfiction #bakugou drabble #drabble #katsuki bakugo mha #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugo headcanons #fluff #bakugo katsuki fluff #bakugo fluff

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thisblogisaboutabook · 3 months

Text

Rainy Season

Azriel x Reader

An angsty little one shot. Azriel’s mate is tired of being at the bottom of his list of priorities.

Update: Due to popular demand, this is being made into a series!

Part 2

The air’s getting heavy and we both know why

There was a time when an evening like this brought solace to my weary soul.

Azriel’s hand wrapped around my waist, caressing my stomach, pressing soft kisses to the juncture of my neck and shoulder. His hair tickling against my sensitive skin as we hid under blankets absorbing the incessant melody of drip, drop, drip, drop and the echoing pitter patter of rain drops hitting the roof. His warmth seeping right through to the coldest depths of my soul.

I’d turn around, pressing my bare breasts against his muscled chest. Our breath hitching as his sunburst eyes of brown, amber, and gold bore into mine, his soft lips whispering promises of forever.

Say that this storm is just passing through

But Azriel wasn’t here. He hadn’t been for 6 days, 23 hours, and 50 minutes now. It would have been laughable, comparing the past to now, if it weren’t so damned sad. In the beginning there’d been long, doting love notes with risqué quips regarding his intentions upon coming home, little gifts that he couldn’t resist bringing back from his travels, and the stolen hours where he’d sneak in a visit during the intermittent downtime on his missions. As a realist, I knew that it was not sustainable long-term but relished in it as the gift it was. Newly formed, passionate love that exceeded anything I had ever imagined upon finding my cauldron-blessed mate.

As the years went on I understood when the love notes became briefs and the thoughtful gifts became pecks on the cheek as he hurried through the door to exchange his leathers for clean ones, wipe down his weapons, and rest before his next mission. But time went on, as is inevitable, and distant were the memories of stolen moments away from missions, the desperate caress of his hands roaming my body as if he couldn’t quite believe I was fully corporeal before him - needing to touch me to reassure him that this was real. Now the touches were detached, perfunctory, another task on his never-ending to-do list.

Drop after drop we’re destroying this house and eachother.

The boiling point had been simmering for a while, left on the fire with reassurances of “Things are just busy right now”, “It’ll slow down soon”, “I would stay if I could, love. You know I would. I have no choice.”

But we both knew all too well that there was always a choice. There were times when Rhys let it slip that Azriel had volunteered for missions that his other spies were perfectly suited for, times when all I wanted in the world was to be curled up and listening to the rain with my mate.

Missions became tasks with the Valkyries, “chaperoning” Cassian and Nesta, and emotionally supporting the lovely doe-eyed fawn - Elain - who was the delicate cherry blossom of spring opposite of my wild summertime storm.

It wasn’t her fault. The trauma inflicted upon her, the loss of autonomy that came with being thrown into the cauldron and having her mortality stripped away without her say. The powers she never asked for overwhelming her senses. Hell, maybe it wasn’t Azriel’s fault for responding to the traumas of his past and the need to overcompensate for every ounce of blood he’s drawn by saving anything and everything that needed rescuing.

The problem lay with the fact that where Elain is a “seer”, my ability to “sense” when things are amiss was strong and Azriel’s intentions with her were becoming blurred. Feelings of lust had become more frequent down the bond along with flutters of joy and adoration. When it began I thought maybe things would look up in our relationship - he was missing me, fisting his cock to fantasies of taking me over and over when he returned home - but he only became more distant. He’d return more often than not smelling of jasmine and honey. The strength of the scent coating him correlating with the increase in enamored feelings slipping through the bond.

Six days ago when I’d asked him to skip out on training with Cassian and Nesta and whatever it was he and Elain would do - that was when the thunder clapped and the sky opened. “I can’t just stay home and cater to you all the time. I have duties to this court. Why can’t you find a hobby to occupy your time? Nesta reads and trains with the Valkyries, Feyre paints, Elain gardens and she evens bakes! Why can’t you be more like-“

He caught himself too late, immediately reaching out to place a gentle hand on my shoulder and apologize but it was too late for that.

Please, make it stop

It wasn’t that I wasn’t a forgiving or understanding person. i appreciated his dedication to his court and family and those in need but…

“Why can’t I be more like what? You can stop mid-sentence but you already said it all.” I looked down, shaking my head as silver lined my eyes. Gods, I hate that I’m an angry crier. “You want to know why I can’t be more like Elain in your eyes, Azriel? Because I exist in your fucking blind spot! I have been helping Feyre AT the studio, volunteering at a food pantry in Velaris, and teaching self-defense classes to women and children at the park but you wouldn’t know because you never ask me what I’ve been up to while you’re gone.”

He started to speak but I wasn’t finished. “The reason I cannot be more like Elain, or Feyre, or Nesta is because I’m none of them. I am ME. And you know what? I like me. I don’t want to be anybody else.” Trying and failing miserably to hold my head high I pathetically fell to my knees, shuddering as tears of rage flowed freely.

Warmth enveloped me as Azriel knelt down to soothe my quaking form. I let him if only because I didn’t have the composure to tell him otherwise as he began pressing kisses to my forehead. “I’m so sorry. I have been a terrible mate. I love all that you are- I- I’ll stop with Elain. She’s doing much better and Nuala and Cerridwen can keep an eye on her, so can Rhys and Cassian, and her sisters. It will be okay.”

That consolation attempt only drove the blade of bitterness deeper into my heart. Elain had so many in her corner and who did I have anymore? My chronically absent mate? The family I left behind to move to Velaris with Azriel? There was nobody close by.

“I think you should leave.” I sobbed out.

Azriel ignored the shaky command, continuing to hold me. Fuck - is this what it took for him to notice me? Breaking my heart so he could stitch it back up again?

“Azriel.” I stated firmly.

He met my eyes.

“You should leave.”

His look grew puzzled. “I thought you wanted me to stay - to spend time together? Please, Y/N. Let me make this better.”

“I need space. Give me one week.”

“But-“

“One. Week.”

Azriel’s shoulders slumped, head hanging low for several minutes before realizing that my decision was firm.

“I love you.” He said before heading out the door.

——————

Like clockwork as 7 days, 0 hours, and 1 minute were up, the front door to our home opened and Azriel’s footsteps padded in behind me, my gaze remaining fixated on the rain falling outside the window. A lump formed in my throat as I avoided turning to meet his gaze.

So dance one more dance and tell one more lie.

Azriel stepped around me, wordlessly extending a hand, patiently waiting as I avoided his gaze a moment longer before taking it. His shadows began humming faintly, increasing their melody and reaching a crescendo as Azriel began dancing with me through the room.

Say that you love me even if it’s not true

I let myself melt into the warmth of his chest. The thick air remained heavy upon my soul but I could have this. I could let myself enjoy this moment.

We wordlessly danced through the room in the soft glow of the fae lights.

We made our way through the hall into our shared bed that had become so neglected.

“I love you, Y/N.” he murmured as he laid me down, stripped bare underneath him.

“I love you too, Azriel.”

——————

Wish I could just say it and words were enough to keep you from being the one giving up.

The middle of the night left me restless as he lay soundly asleep beside me. My senses tugged me toward his bag that he’d discarded at the entryway. I brought out his dirty clothes from the week only to be greeted with the fresh scent of jasmine and honey.

Like the sky letting go for no reason

I packed my essentials and voyaged out into the pouring rain. Its patter on my skin washing away the salty tears streaming down my face. Following my senses to where the love was true back to my Summer Court home, my family. As free as a summer storm.

It's just the rainy season.

—————————————

A/n - I know there are plenty of Azriel x Reader and Elain fics out there. It was rainy and dreary here yesterday and this song was in my head for the first time in like 10 years so…. I wrote this.

#sarah j maas #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel #a court of silver flames #a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x elain #elain archeron #rainy season #inspired by Hunter Hayes #inspired by a song #azriel angst #angst #azriel one shot #acotar oneshot

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 29 days

Text

It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader

[Chapter 29] || [Chapter 31]

Pairing: 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.4K~ cw: injuries + recovery Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: johnny is a filthy man :) but also we love him so is that a problem? no, it's not.

Chapter 30: Playing House

It took a while, but, Simon got healthy, and John and Kyle got their soreness’ settled enough to be able to go back to work.

Johnny, however, needed a little extra TLC. Being shot in the shoulder involved a longer period of medical leave, paired with a long while of physical therapy…

And that means that he decided to make himself your problem.

The rest of the lads left on a mission a few days after being cleared and, as such, left Johnny with you. Not because the lad is incapable of looking after himself, but more so because he, himself, decided he didn’t want to be away from you.

And so, whenever you leave for work, Johnny leaves for PT, then, goes to base for a bit, mostly doing work on things that he can feasibly do without straining his left shoulder/arm… Like doing paperwork and reports, going to the gym for cardio, crunches, and leg and hip workouts… Then he comes home to you.

He goes shopping for you, cooks you dinner, cleans after the two of you, despite your insistence that he rest… But, as it turns out, Johnny isn’t good at that.

Nonetheless, the flat is cleaner than ever before, Johnny’s drawing supplies are permanently stationed on the dining room table, next to your laptop, and some of his clothes have taken a permanent spot in your closet.

And, of course, he spends every night in your bed, spooning you from behind and hiding his face in your neck while you watch tiktoks, talk, or he regale you with the most ridiculous of puns.

In a way, it’s like Johnny MacTavish is your live-in boyfriend. Or, rather, that you’re playing house with him.

You wouldn’t say you hate it. In fact, it’s quite nice to have someone staying with you all night… Johnny is a good partner, he’s helpful and chill and provides wonderful cuddles…

Though you’ve jokingly started calling him ‘Johnny Price’, because, since he hasn’t been working for a month now, he’s let his beard grow out. And he looks like Price more often than he does not.

It’s on week three of your new routine with Johnny when you’re at work, that you get a text from him:

Johnny: guess what bonnie. Johnny: [1 Video Attachment]

You definitely should’ve put on some headphones before you watched that video during work… His grunting and groaning was almost pornographic and definitely earned you a few confused/worried looks from your coworkers…

But all you could think of was how he was finally easing back into his arm/shoulder workouts, which meant he finally got cleared by his PT to do as such!

you: did you finally get cleared johnny? 🥺 Johnny: cleared at 50%. Johnny: not there yet. but soon. you: I’M SO PROUD OF YOU! 🫶🫶🫶 Johnny: thank ye bonnie you: this calls for a celebration! Johnny: i like how ye think bonnie but im not cleared yet to be able to manhandle ye 😏 you: get ur mind out of the gutter johnny price!!!!!!!! Johnny: oof not ye still calling me that! you: ur beard is looking like his what do u expect of me! 🙄 Johnny: yer right idk what i expected. Johnny: so about this celebration. you: i was thinking we go out for dinner? Johnny: are we going to dress up nice? you: i wasn’t thinking we’d go somewhere super fancy because i do not have money johnnyyyy Johnny: oh good because i dont think i can button up a shirt my shoulder is sore 😖 you: okay then! nando’s!!! 🫶 you: and i’ll give you a shoulder rub when we get home Johnny: speaking my language bonnie.

And so that’s what you did. You went home in a hurry to shower and change, and, for once, Johnny wasn’t there, having chosen to shower and change at base.

You met up in front of the Nando’s closest to your flat and you immediately chuckled at the sight of him. Sure, he had changed, but he was still very much wearing a pair of jeans, sneakers and a grey zip-up hoodie… Although you could very obviously tell he was naked beneath the hoodie.

“Mo leannan.” He murmured in an exaggeratedly polite tone as he popped the door open for you with his good arm.

“Thank you, my good sir…” You joked, which caused you both to chuckle and shake your head.

You got inside, ordered your food and, as you talked, you site adjacent to him, right on his left side, so you could gently rub his arm with your hand.

“Do you miss the lads?” You ended up asking him as you caressed his bicep and shoulder with your hand, watching him wince a bit at it, because he felt so sore from his first workout.

“A little.” Johnny admitted as he looked toward you. “Do you miss ‘em?” He returned the question. You found yourself nodding in reply.

“Having you here is wonderful though… I… quite miss you lot when you’re all gone together. Not to mention I worry sick for you.” You admitted and pressed your lips together a bit awkwardly.

“You do?” He asked you, to which you nodded. So, he continued. “Well.. I guess I understand. I imagine my mam and sisters worry about me too… As do the Kyle and the Captain’s families.” He conceded.

“That’s actually…” You found yourself trailing off as the waiter brought you your orders and you thanked him, unboxing your food so you could dig in.

“As I was saying…” You trailed off. “That’s actually an interesting point… I feel like I know very little about you and the guys’ when it comes to your personal lives… Outside of hobbies and what you do with me.” You mused as you glanced at him as he dug into his double chicken burger one-handed.

“I don’t know much about the others myself to be honest with you.” Johnny admitted as he stole one of your chips off your plate.

“Really?” You asked softly as you ate your own sandwich yourself, nodding along as he continued speaking.

“We try to keep our… ‘outside’ lives under wraps. Even being a team… what we talk about is always very superficial.” He trailed off.

“So you don’t know anything about the rest of them, nor them about you?” You cocked a brow in confusion.

“Oh, no, bonnie, I talk about myself a whole lot, I’m a blabber mouth, me.” He joked and winked at you. “But family is one of those topics that’s best kept under wraps in our line of work.” He told you as he leaned in, rubbing his thumb on the corner of your mouth to wipe it clean of peri-peri sauce. Then, he sucked his own thumb clean.

“What about me? Do I get to know about you?” You asked him playfully as you leaned forward, setting your elbow on the table as you lean in to him, eyebrows raised in intrigue.

“Tell ye what, bonnie.” Johnny leaned toward you too, licking his fingers clean and then wiping them on a napkin before he set a hand on your thigh under the table. “Anything I tell ye about my family is not going to do them justice… So how about I take ye up to meet my family over the summer… And ye meet them directly? Could even take the Captain, Simon and Kyle with us.” He offered.

Your eyes widened a bit and you blinked away the surprise, staring at him like he had grown a second head.

“Meeting your family? Really? Isn’t it a bit early for that…?” You chuckled a bit sheepishly.

“Aye, maybe it is…” He trailed off. “But at this point, I’m basically livin’ wit ye and ye’ve looked after me in sickness, haven’t ye?” He joked. “And I’ve fended off yer ex… so I’ve looked after ye in health, haven’t I?”

Rolling your eyes in amusement, you shook your head. You knew he was just joking, the look in his eyes showed it… “Are you implying that we’re married, Johnny?” You teased him playfully.

“I’m just saying…” He trailed off playfully, a playful smirk on his lips. “And, if we were married, not saying that we are,… I’d make sure to take ye home tonight and rearrange yer guts if ye let me, mo leannan.”

Looking away and biting your lip, you couldn’t help but chuckle. “Shut it…” You trailed off. “You need to rest, your shoulder’s bad still.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t use my mouth on ye… and that you can’t be on top.” He added before he grabbed another one of your chips and popped it in his mouth.

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taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!):

@daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling ,

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@emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes ,

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@kneelforloki , @comeonatmebruh , @codsunshine , @waiting-so-long , @captainquake42 ,

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@kitwithnokat , @stick-the-dumbass , @mothsdrabbles , @justanerd1 , @thesinsoflust ,

@thriving-n-jiving , @blckbrrybasket

#ikea writes 💚#it's a match! fic #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #text story #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #141 x reader

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chrolloluvr · 2 months

Note

Hey, I saw some other headcanons similar to this and absolutely loved the concept! Adam x reader, love at first sight? Like he just makes it his mission to go out with reader afterwards?

Adam falling love at first sight

Note: TY FOR REQUESTING!!! This is also before the big fight on ep 8!

Female!Reader

Warnings: Cussing, creepy behavior, adam is smitten for you 🌺🌺

When he first sees you, he immediately was struck by an unfamiliar feeling. Who the hell is this chick?

He has never felt this way about Lilith, or even Eve, so what was different about you? He had to find out. And usually when he sees a pretty face on a woman, he thinks of vile, guttural thoughts. But with you, all he thought about was the way you looked so graceful, and how you carried yourself, and your beautiful eyes, and your glistening skin, and your-

Lute had violently interrupted him from his daydreaming, by basically yelling at him for the whole promenade to hear.

He had Lute immididietley do some detective digging on you. He at first was going to go up to you to ask for your digits, but he felt... nervous?

After lute reported back about her findings, she had told him all about you. He didn't know it, but he was truly in love. He just could not stop thinking about you, and how to get you.

He told Lute about these feelings, and when she explained, 'Sir, it seems you are in love', he flat out refuses it. He tries to convince himself you are just some hot broad, that he just happened to run into.

If he were in a meeting with Sera, he would have you running laps in his mind. Planning the next extermination? Goddamnit, get out of my head you stupid bitch!

He comes to the conclusion that to stop thinking about you, he needs to talk to you. So he sad Lute figure out your number and address, and thats when he tries to get with you.

This man will literally rehearse his first meeting with you in the mirror, as if he is a teenage boy going on his first date. But he isn't, and this is definitely not his first date, or at least, this is his first real time trying to impress a woman. Because usually, he does not need to act fly to get any girl he wants.

After you find out he is THE Adam, you flat out say no, because you dont want that kind of attention. So you start to ignore him. But that just motivates him to keep contacting you.

XXX-XXX-XXXX 5:31

Hey babes, wyd? you down for dinner tonight? Just you and me.

XXX-XXX-XXXX 5:33

Or maybe we can watch a movie and chill?

XXX-XXX-XXXX 5:47

C'mon babe, how can you refuse me? Ill meet you there in 30 ;)

XXX-XXX-XXXX 5:50

Hey, respond?

XXX-XXX-XXXX 7:10

Hey sugar, lets do something tmrw isntead since your clearly busy 😘

He will send you huge bouquets of flowers, along with a handmade book he made, filled with "anonymous love letters" which you can clearly tell are from him due to his messy handwriting.

He will then eventually "accidentally" bump into you. Every time he does, you are basically forced to talk to him and listen to his tangents, on how going out with him is the best choice you will ever make.

And honestly, he just does not stop bothering you. Even if you were to straight up tell him to leave you the fuck alone, he wont.

"Hey y/n whats up? Whacha doing tonight...? Maybe it can include me. im free yknow, if you ever wanna hang. Im great at choosing places or if you want you can choose-"

He is truly in love with you. He wants you to eventually be his future wife in his mind, making you the third. And in his mind, you already are.

If you just keep telling him off for months, hell, maybe even years, he will never get over you and your beauty.

If you eventually say yes to a date, he will be so excited, but will play it off because hes just chill like that. But he is down so bad for you, and honestly wants you all to himself.

#adam hazbin hotel #adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam #adam x reader hazbin hotel #adam smut #adam fluff #adam hazbin #adam x you #adam x y/n #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel smut #helluva

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fuckyeahgoodomens · 9 months

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Link 1, Link 2 :)

Digital Good Omens 2 Sountrack is coming out in 4 days! 🥳 CD version in October! :) ❤ Coming soon on vinyl…

Out to Stream/Download from 25th August. Out on CD 13th October. Coming soon on vinyl…

David Arnold’s ‘end of the world’ complex and multi-genre soundtrack.

From the Award-winning composer of Sherlock and Casino Royale comes a follow up to the hugely successful, Emmy nominated Good Omens soundtrack.

Good Omens series 2 premiered on Prime Video on 28th July. The series follows the odd couple, angel Aziraphale (Michael Sheen) and demon Crowley (David Tennant) in their quest to sabotage the end of the World. The six-episode sequel to the popular adaptation of the novel by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett, concerns the Archangel Gabriel (Jon Hamm) arriving without his memories to Aziraphale’s bookshop. Aziraphale and Crowley attempt to find out what happened to Gabriel, whilst hiding him from Heaven and Hell, both eager to find him.

The Soundtrack

David Arnold’s soundtrack to Good Omens was first released in 2019 to favourable reviews, with BBC Music Magazine calling it “a rollicking trip to hell and back”. Blueprint Magazine described it as “a great listen” and Sci Fi Bulletin commented on “plenty of memorable themes” to conclude that “This is another work of art from Arnold”. At times nostalgic and eerie but always varied, beautiful and full of excitement, the Good Omens 2 soundtrack showcases Arnold’s every skill from his composer arsenal. Featured here are orchestral arrangements with sprinkling of Sugar Plum Fairy pizzicato and percussion, jaunty strings and mighty choral sweeps from Crouch End Festival Chorus. Added to the mix are rock guitar riffs, and psychedelic 70s sounds and all together they create a haunting otherworldly feel, complementing the fantasy and the quirky humour of the show. The spirited Waltz of the opening theme is also present in the second series and it wonderfully sets the scene for fantastical mayhem. In series 2, this robust, evocative, and funny music entity, becomes yet again another character in the story. Award-winning composer David Arnold is well known for his blockbuster scores, including Stargate, The Chronicles of Narnia: the Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Hot Fuzz, Paul, Independence Day, 2 Fast 2 Furious and Casino Royale as well as for his TV work such as Sherlock and Dracula. Also available: The original soundtrack to the first series of Good Omens >

Tracklist

– Disc 1 – Chapter 1: The Arrival 1. Before the Beginning 2. Good Omens 2 Opening Title 3. Into Soho 4. Something Terrible 5. To The Bookshop 6. Maggie and Nina 7. He’s Smoking 8. Tiny Miracle 9. Heavenly Alarm Bells Chapter 2: The Clue 10. Avaunt! 11. The Song is the Clue 12. It’s What God Wants 13. A Mighty Wind 14. Whales 15. Gabriel Returns 16. His New Children 17. Am I Awful Now? 18. Fallen Angel Chapter 3: I Know Where I’m Going 19. Police Arrive 20. Scotland 21. We’re Going to Hell 22. People Get a Choice 23. My Car is Not Yellow 24. Beelzebub in Hell 25. The Book 26. The Fly 27. Mr. Dalrymple 28. We Need to Cut 29. I’m Going to Save Her 30. Crowley Goes Large 31. Not Kind 32. Beelzebub Isn’t Happy – Disc 2 – Chapter 4: The Hitchhiker 33. Hell-O 34. Nazi Zombies 35. March of the Nazi Zombies 36. Crowley Pep Talk 37. The Magic Shop 38. Catch The Bullet 39. Zombies in the Dressing Room Chapter 5: The Ball 40. I’ll Let You Have It 41. We’re Storming a Book Shop 42. Monsieur Azirophale 43. The Candelabra 44. Here Comes Hell 45. Gabriel Gives Himself Up 46. Shax 47. The Circle Chapter 6: Every Day 48. Bin Through the Window 49. Gabriel Leaving Heaven 50. The Halo 51. Gabriel Revealed 52. Gabriel’s Love Story 53. Leaving The Bookshop 54. Gabriel and Beelzebub 55. Crowley and Muriel 56. I Forgive You 57. Don’t Bother 58. The Biggest Decision 59. The End?

#good omens #gos2 #season 2 #GOS2Spoilers #good omens spoilers #music #s2 music #david g arnold #s2 soundtrack #wahoo!#shut up and take my money :D

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zeldasnotes · 9 months

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ASTRO OBSERVATIONS 29

CHECK OUT → 24 25 26 27 28

🀧 Someones Ascendant in your 8th house = them disliking you/heard a bad rumor about you but once they get to know you/talk to you for the first time they will become completely smitten with you. Or vice versa.

🀧 People talk about how vengeful scorpio placements are but have you seen libra placements? Their symbol is literally the scale. For them if they dont get revenge the scale is not even. The sign of justice and balance. You do something to them they have to do something to you.

🀧 People with Venus aspecting Neptune either dress like its Milan Fashion Week or like a 3 year old picked out their outfit.

🀧 8th house synastry just like neptune creates almost like a fog. There is like a view of the person as much more attractive and scary etc. If you fight with someone you have 8th house energy with it will be hard to forgive and forget because everythong they do is seem as more intense and bad (like with chiron. And the same when it comes to attraction. A person with zero sex appeal will look sexy to you if yall have 8th house synastry. So 8th house can create the rose colored glasses too.

🀧 A lot of people with Venus in the 10th house grew up with parents who cared a lot about image or looks. They learned from an early age how to behave and to always look good when leaving the house. My baby sister have this placement and both my dad and step mom think that respect is everything. I remember the disgusted look on my dads face everytime i wore something slighty sloppy.

🀧 Taurus IC spend more money on the clothes they wear at home and their pyjamas than the clothes they wear outside. At home is where they need luxury. The ones most likely to have brand name towels and furniture.

🀧 Aquarius Moon might be a leader of a group or the most popular/prominent/well known person in their friends group.

🀧 Aquarius placements pick up on trends from others countries fast. They love being the first one to do something.

🀧 People with Pluto or Lilith harshly aspecting Moon have a lot of fears and triggers. Emotional life can be super intense here to the point of them constantly being in survival mood. Having Moon in an air house/air degree can soften this intensity a little.

🀧 Saturnians care a lot about how friends/partners treat them infront of others. Im a saturnian and I could never be with a partner who lectures me in public. Agree with me in public and then lecture me when we get home, dont make me look stupid and leave me fending for myself.

🀧 Saturn 2nd house might struggle with self love and self worth a lot during their younger years but when they finally realize their worth there is no going back.

🀧 People with Mars conjunct the angles attract a lot of conflict without doing anything. Almost like universe wants them to learn to fight or something. People respond to them aggressively bc they feel threathened so people are extra harsh towards them. For women having Mars conjunct the angles can be hard because people dont treat them as ”gently” which can make them feel less attractive/feminine. So if you have this trust me its not you its them, they are just threathened.

🀧 Libra Risings dont handle rejection well because they NEED people to be attracted to them and want them. Just like Cap Rising cant handle being disrespected and Leo Rising cant handle being ignored.

🀧 Cancer Descendant might like traditional roles in a relationship. One makes the money, the other takes care of the home. Instead of 50/50. Depends on other placements tho.

🀧 People with Venus Square Ascendant gets involved in weird situationships. Because they attract the same sign that their Venus Squares (their 7th house sign). For example a Cancer Rising with Libra Venus will most likely attract a lot of Capricorn Risings because thats the sign of their 7th house. They are attracted to Cap Rising but at the same time something with the Cap rising bothers them since their behaviour dont match what Libra Venus finds the ultimate behaviour/look.

🀧 Lilith Squares are common in people who just dont click with the opposite sex. Like no matter how attracted you are it just doesnt click on an emotional level.

🀧 You will most likely feel competetive or threathened by anyone who got your Sun sign in their inner planets. They represent something that you consider yours, something thats tied to your ego.

🀧 People with Lilith conjunct Venus are attracted to the outcasted. They cant help but be drawn to the one others dislike. Men with this aspect might fall for the ”town wh*re” (im not slutshaming).

🀧 Aspects to Neptune can show who/where we tend to believe easily and Pluto where we can be very paranoid. Pluto/Venus = Paranoid in love. Neptune/Venus = Naive in love.

#astro notes #astrology #astro observations #astronotes #lilith #birth chart readings #lilith aspects #asteroids

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wilwheaton · 10 months

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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.

#tw abuse #tw child abuse #tw exploitation #child actor #still just a geek #lucio fulci #trauma survivor #speaking up for the child who was silenced by his abusers

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