#julie turned into a stone okay

[incorrect0hicsqueak]

Hecate: I’m adopting a child

Mildred: O congratulat-

Hecate, slamming adoption papers on the table: It’s you sign here

[anim-ttrpgs]

Cover your eyes! Announcing the Gorgon Initiative for Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy

(promotional art by @theblackwarden, one of our team artists)

Okay so, we had a bunch of stretch goals in the Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy Kickstarter, and we actually did hit more of them than expected, but there was one of them we didn’t hit, the playable gorgon.

The gorgon being a playable monster type was stuck at the very back of the stretch goal list, mainly because we thought of it way later than all the other stretch goals, but honestly it was one of the possibilities that I was most excited for, and apparently, so were a whole lot of our fans. The gorgon monster type would perfectly round out Eureka’s roster of playable supernatural creatures, and we would really like to make it happen, despite not really having the budget for it since we didn’t hit the stretch goal.

Here are a few of what the gorgon’s key features would have been:

>Anyone who makes direct eye-contact with the gorgon turns to stone.

>A venomous bite, making them gorgon the second playable monster type to be able to inflict a poison effect.

>Cold-blooded. Won’t feel great in low temperature environments, but won’t show up on thermal sensors either.

>Scaly skin.

>Snake hair optional.

>Claws.

>Eating people like a snake.

And all this wrapped up in Eureka’s unique humanity-focused approach to monsters. How will your PC cope with their power to instantly kill anyone who looks at them wrong, whether they want to or not? That’s the kind of character development you can look forward to with a gorgon in the party.

So here is what we are going to do to make it happen despite the budget not accounting for it. It’s going to be a patreon initiative.

(promotional art by @qsycomplainsalot, one of our team artists)

If we can get up to 50 total paid patreon subscribers by the end of June, we will put the gorgon in the game. Currently, we have 33, so if y'all can manage to make that climb to 50 by July 1st, we will promise to make time and budget to add the gorgon in to the rulebook before final release. Ultimately, even 20-ish more patreon subscribers is less money than the stretch goal would have been, but we feel that it would be a good enough addition to the game to justify, especially because it's what the fans want, and because long-term patreon support is very valuable. You get regular Eureka rulebook PDFs as a part of the patreon, and even though there is also a free demo, the more more-updates copies or Eureka floating around, the better. We want people actually playing this game, and playing better and better versions of it. We’d release it all for free if we didn’t need the money to “earn a living.”

Supporting us on patreon isn’t pure charity either. At the $3 tier, you get access to our patreon discord server where our team discusses development of the game and gets feedback from fans, as well in a vote on which projects we tackle next.

At the $5 tier and beyond, you get that, plus regular PDFs of the most current and up-to-date version of our projects. In addition to a version of the Eureka rulebook with many more features than the current free version, there’s stuff you currently can’t get anywhere else, like Eureka adventure modules, short stories, and even a novella, all unreleased anywhere else.

So, sign up to our patreon, it’s only a few dollars a month, and help out with the gorgon initiative. At the time of writing this, we have 33/50 paid subscribers, and I’ll update the goal as we go.

And below the cut, I’ll show you the current changelog for the Eureka rulebook, so you can see what all $5+ patreon subscribers are going to get in the next big patreon update coming Thursday, June 6th. This changelog isn’t even fully conclusive, as work will continue on the rulebook throughout the week to make it even better before Thursday. That's a whole lot for just $5! I will also post the rough notes that exist for the gorgon mechanics as they appear right now.

(A new version of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy will be coming to $5+ patreon subscribers on the first Thursday of the month every month until final release, and after that you'll start getting the beta versions of whatever our next project turns out to be.)

CHANGELOG

CHAPTER 1

Have started working on replacing the examples of play with updated ones that actually fit the current and slightly more stable version of the rules. These will be found in various chapters. You can see them in the table of contents.

Added a Foreword, a section on other media to offer you inspiration when playing eureka, and a section on some of the subtler themes of eureka

Copy-edited Foreword

A few minor clarifications in the Making Rolls section

Added a chart explaining the percentage chances of failures, partial successes, and full successes for modifiers from -7 to +7. 

Added Heat optional rule. A whole new set of mechanics for tracking how much police attention the investigators may be drawing, as well as how law enforcement will respond. Currently a work-in-progress, but mostly functional already.

CHAPTER 2

Added the Forgery skill to write-in skills

Many new snoops have been added. 

Removed the “Seating” stat for vehicles, you know how many people can safely fit in a car

Removed the placeholder boat entries from the item list because we did not hit that kickstarter stretch goal

Added Skateboard to item list. 

Added four-wheeler to item list. 

Added Acceleration values to all vehicles in the vehicle list. Acceleration is a new stat used with the new way that Speed is calculated for Chases.

Adjusted the Driving bonus of motorcycles and dirtbikes.

Changed Large Mansion cost to 25 Wealth Points in character creation.

Started copy-editing this chapter.

CHAPTER 3

Added vehicle crashes to irregular forms of damage section

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

Completely revamped the way that Speed is calculated. 

Added a mechanic to determine how many nodes ahead a fleeing character starts.

Added an optional rule for bringing an end to chases 

Added vehicle attack rules for use during car chases

Added more guidelines for how to make your own obstacles

Added recommended numbers of nodes for chases and recommended distance between obstacles 

Added the work-in-progress random obstacle tables

On-Foot Urban Chase Obstacles table is finished but not edited

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

Increased capacity of an unfurled thing from beyond’s ‘stomach’ from three to fourteen.

Thing from beyond can now more easily attempt to engulf more victims after already containing one or more. This now prompts an escape attempt by victims inside rather than automatic escape.

Thing from beyond can now get a bonus to mimicry attempts by consuming a sample of the intended mimicry target’s DNA. 

Thing from beyond can now attempt to mimic a person they have never seen or heard by consuming a sample of their DNA, but narrator makes a hidden roll about it, so accuracy of mimicry will be unknown.

Gave acceleration value to witch’s brooms and other flying transportation

Gave Acceleration of +6 to Superhuman Speed trait

Gave vampire small bat manifestation +2 Acceleration

Gave vampire wolf manifestation +4 Acceleration 

Gave vampire massive bat beast manifestation +4 Acceleration

Gave wolfman wolf form +4 Acceleration

Gave lycanthrope wolf form +4 Acceleration

Added ability to resist curses to fairy and witch

Added ability for fairy to transfer curses to different names as a means of protecting themselves from curses. This gives them more of an incentive to collect names. 

Added a tiny bit about the fairy world

Added Monsters Eating Monsters section to provide rulings for some edge cases where monsters might eat other monsters and what would happen if they did

ROUGH GORGON DESIGN NOTES

[Notes: Turn people to stone by looking them in the eye. Definitely not a power that the Gorgon can turn on and off, they will have to cover their eyes somehow, such as dark sunglasses or a veil, to prevent it happening to everyone they make eye contact with. Also works the other way around so you could protect yourself by wearing dark sunglasses. Still works even if the Gorgon is dead, like in the legends. Does not work through cameras, reflections, images, etc. Turning to stone is permanent, basically instant kill? Works like the witch curse except with infinite duration unless a witch undoes it like a curse. If there is no eye protection, could be a reflex roll on the gorgon’s part or on an aware victim’s part to break eye-contact quickly enough for the curse not to take effect. Also, they could have some kind of bonus to Threaten because all the legends say that they look particularly frightening.

Have claws and maybe scaly skin or scales in patches, maybe snake-like eyes and snake tongue that can taste air? Sharp teeth and maybe venomous snake fangs? People will really really want their gorgons to have snake hair even though in the legends, it was only Medusa herself that had snake hair. Compromise by making it an optional rule agreed upon by narrator and player that they have snake hair. Snakes may have venomous bite attack but the trade off is that it makes it way harder to conceal the gorgon’s identity as a Gorgon.

Gorgons do not regain composure points from turning people to stone, all other monsters regain composure points by *consuming* their victims in some way, except for fairies who regain composure from playing mean pranks because it makes them happy. Keeping with the rule of monsters eating people and also the fact that the legends always describe gorgons as having snake-like trait, maybe they swallow victims whole like a snake? Great horror concept but takes a long time. Could mechanically work very very similar to thing from beyond’s composure restoration where they gain 1 composure point each day for however many days. Could advise loose and bulky clothing to cover this up. Cannot really decide how to codify this because the most obvious way would make it pretty impossible to hide for a very long time. Could probably make multiple optional rules that regain composure at different rates and digest victims at different rates. One option that gets a lot more composure over time from a single victim like the thing from beyond but is very conspicuous that entire time. Other option that digests the whole victim extremely fast so they are only conspicious for a short time but ultimately less composure from a single kill. No option to regain composure from victim without killing them, like thing from beyond. No composure restoration from normal food but can eat it to stay alive, like the thing from beyond?

Do they have proper weaknesses besides just the normal things that everybody is weak to, like sharp objects? Probably should not have the Unkillable trait, but need to come up with at least one weakness that does not stray too far from the legends. Maybe they are cold-blooded, following the snake theme? Makes them very vulnerable to cold temperatures, and jackets and blankets don’t help because they don’t produce their own body heat. Big Physical skill penalties when they are in cold environments?

What is their second mandatory monster trait? They don’t *need* one but every other monster has their powers split across two monster traits.] 

Actually it would be pretty good if they had to make a Monster(fear) Composure check if they saw their face in the mirror

Their blood is either healing or poisonous depending on if it is from the left or right side. left side kills, right side heals. Make it  veinous vs arterial blood.....  But this would have no effect on vampires 

We have GOT to get the gorgon in if we have time, it’s such a good idea

Elegantly designed and thoroughly playtested, Eureka represents the culmination of three years of near-daily work from our team, as well as a lot of our own money. If you’re just now reading this and learning about Eureka for the first time, you missed the crowdfunding window unfortunately, but our Kickstarter page is still the best place to learn more about what Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy actually is, as that is where we have all the fancy art assets, the animated trailer, links to video reviews by podcasts and youtubers, and where we post regular updates on the status of our progress finishing the game and getting it ready for final release.

Beta Copies through the Patreon

If you want more than just status updates, going forward you can download regularly updated playable beta versions of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy and it’s adventure modules by subscribing to our Patreon at the $5 tier or higher. Subscribing to our patreon also grants you access to our patreon discord server where you can talk to us directly and offer valuable feedback on our progress and projects.

The A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club

If you would like to meet the A.N.I.M. team and even have a chance to play Eureka with us, you can join the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club discord server. It’s also just a great place to talk and discuss TTRPGs, so there is no schedule obligation, but the main purpose of it is to nominate, vote on, then read, discuss, and play different indie TTRPGs. We put playgroups together based on scheduling compatibility, so it’s all extremely flexible. This is a free discord server, separate from our patreon exclusive one. https://discord.gg/7jdP8FBPes

Other Stuff

We also have a ko-fi and merchandise if you just wanna give us more money for any reason.

We hope to see you there, and that you will help our dreams come true and launch our careers as indie TTRPG developers with a bang by getting us to our base goal and blowing those stretch goals out of the water, and fight back against WotC's monopoly on the entire hobby. Wish us luck.

[chronicowboy]

The ambulance carrying Chimney trundles away, and Hen retreats to where Buck and Eddie are huddled for a breather. She gives Eddie a light tap on the back as she joins them, and he wraps an arm around her shoulders in what she assumes is half reassurance and half leverage to keep himself upright.

Honestly, Hen is just impressed he's still standing. Its been one hell of a day.

"How'd he look?" Buck asks, face locked tight into careful neutrality.

"Well, he was cracking jokes with Julie." Hen smiles shakily, the feel of her best friend's blood on her hands making her skin itch.

"He'll be okay," Eddie tells them both, quiet conviction in his voice. "He's got too much to live for."

Hen watches the look Buck and Eddie share with curiousity. Its a loaded look full of unspoken words Hen could never hope to understand. But then Buck nods, his shoulders lose just the slightest bit of tension, and he turns back to the rubble.

"We've got more work to do," he says gravely. His eyes flicker to Eddie's hand where its pressed against his ribs. "You can sit this one out, Eds. I really think you should."

"We need all the help we can get, Buck." Eddie shakes his head and pushes off Hen to steady himself. "I'll take frequent breaks, but I'm not stopping until I have to."

Buck clenches his jaw, but before he can protest their radios crackle to life.

"Firefighter Diaz, do you copy?"

"Linda?" Eddie frowns, and Hen feels a sickening stone of dread drop right through her stomach.

"Eddie." Linda's voice wobbles, and Hen's chest tightens. "Eddie, I'm so sorry. I just got a call from Christopher."

For a moment, the scene goes deathly silent. Hen can only hold her breath and remember the way the world had dropped out from under her when she'd got the call about Karen's lab.

"W-what?" Eddie croaks, eyes wide and unfocused.

Hen reaches out to grab Eddie's hand, glances to see where Buck's comfort is, always the first one to be at Eddie's side. She knows its a mistake the moment she looks at him. Captain Buck has vanished, replaced instead by the sodden, dirty, bloodied Buck they'd found in the aftermath of a tsunami. Tiny, shaking, frozen with fear.

"Christopher was under the bridge when it collapsed," Linda carries on, words trembling. "He's stuck in there."

"Is he-" Eddie chokes back a sob, chest heaving with his breaths, and rolls his eyes up skywards. "Is he still on the line?"

"Yeah, do you want to talk to him?"

"Please," Eddie rasps.

But before Linda can patch him through, there's an almighty grumble like the earth itself is growling and another section of the bridge collapses in on itself.

Hen throws her arms out on instinct, unwilling to lose anymore of her team to this goddamned bridge, but its useless. Eddie's too weak with pain and shock to do much more than nudge her, and Buck's still frozen in place. But Eddie's scream. Well, that's not something Hen will ever be able to forget.

She'd thought the way he screamed Buck's name on the ladder had been bad. But now Eddie's half hunched over as he screams his lungs out, a thing so primal that Christopher's name is almost unrecognisable where it falls from his lips. Hen feels his grief all the way down to her bones as she catches Eddie before his buckling knees can hit the floor.

He's heavy, too heavy for her aching arms, and she looks to Buck for help only to find an empty spot.

"Please," Eddie whispers over and over, voice wet and raw.

Hen follows his gaze and finds Buck at the fresh wall of rubble, tearing chunks of debris away with nothing more than his bear hands. She blinks, expecting to find herself in darkness and soaked to the bone by rain, but Buck is screaming Christopher's name not Eddie's.

Hen lowers Eddie to the floor, propping him up against the car and making sure he has a clear view of Buck's frantic work. She turns just in time to watch Buck bark orders at a group of gathered firefighters, but then he's right back to scrabbling through the rubble and screaming his lungs out.

"Linda," Hen murmurs into her radio, "is Chris still with you?"

There's a pause. Too long. Hen squeezes her eyes shut tight.

"T-the call hasn't ended, but..." A deep breath. "He's not answering me."

Hen curses quietly to herself, sends a prayer up to a god she doesn't believe in, then turns back to Eddie, his eyes still fixed on Buck with something desperate and pleading. Her eyes drop, unable to stomach the expression of pure anguish on his face, and she finds Eddie's gloved hand wrapped around his St Christopher medallion.

She wants to promise him that Christopher will be okay, wants to promise him that he'll make it out the other side, wants to make a hundred promises that she absolutely shouldn't. But Hen loses her own voice when she thinks about how she'd react if it was Denny under tonnes and tonnes of bridge.

The next thing she knows, Buck is calling out for a gurney with a hoarse voice and diving into a hole in the wall of rubble. Hen wonders if he realises he doesn't have a helmet on or if he just doesn't care. She watches the small opening with baited breath, gripping Eddie's hand as tight as she can possibly manage.

Its a long five minutes before Buck emerges from the hole with a dust-covered body in his arms. The sob that bubbles out of Eddie is almost as haunting as his scream. Buck cradles Christopher against his chest like he's the most precious thing in the world as he picks his way through the chaos towards them. Sooner than Hen can comprehend, Buck is falling to his knees by Eddie's side, his own eyes glassy with tears.

"Hey, buddy," Buck chokes out, "told you I'd get you to dad."

"Chris," Eddie sobs, reaching out for him. Buck doesn't miss a beat, manoeuvring himself and Chris closer so that Eddie can hold his son without aggravating his injuries. "Hey, Chris. Hey, I'm here."

"Dad?" Chris mumbles weakly, but for the smile that breaks across Eddie's face you'd think it was the most beautiful sound in the world.

"Yeah, mijo, I'm here." Eddie shakes a glove off to brush the curls off of Christopher's forehead, and Hen waves the paramedics with the gurney over. "I've got you. You're gonna be okay."

Hen makes the mistake of looking at Buck again, and her eyes fill with sharp tears at what she finds. Buck, the gentle giant, cradling Christopher with the most care in the world, and looking down at father and son like they're the reason he's still breathing, his heart is still beating. Buck watching Eddie murmur reassurances to Christopher like he's just found faith for the first time in his life, like a resurrection, like this is why he came back from the dead.

The gurney breaks them from the moment, and Hen helps Eddie to his feet as Buck lays Christopher down. Eddie takes his hand the moment he's upright and he's staggering along with them to the ambulance before he's even steady on his feet.

Hen watches them roll Christopher into the rig, watches Eddie climb in after him, watches as Eddie turns to catch Buck's eyes just before the doors close between them. Hen doesn't have to know Buck and Eddie's secret language to know that that look meant thank you. She turns to Buck, a few steps in front of her, suddenly looking lost in all the debris. When she lays a hand on his shoulder, he clears his throat and sniffles before composing himself.

"Back to work," he mutters and then he's off again.

Hen hears her own voice echoed in her head: are you capable of being a father and walking away?

[luveline]

hi! i know ur not from the us so pls feel free to ignore this but i think a kbd fic where steve and the girls are doing sparklers for the fourth of july would be so cute! absolutely adore everything u post 🫶🏻

thank u!! sorry i know it isn't the fourth anymore bit I hope u enjoy regardless!! kbd —dad!steve and mom!reader show their daughters how to use sparklers for the first time, 2k

Steve isn't a huge fan of fireworks because of how dangerous they can be, but sparklers are just fine in his book. He buys a box of thirty. The girls can do ten each if they feel like it, though he knows Dove won't be interested, and he guesses Bethie will be too scared to hold them. 

Still, he hopes. You're hosting a banquet of food when he arrives, a mixture of things you made and stuff he prepared yesterday. It's a feast of hotdogs and burgers, cupcakes and donuts, macaroni and cheese and chilli with white rice. The table is crammed with plates and the radio is on, playing fun pop music a little too loudly for Dove's taste, her hands over her ears.

You turn down the radio, and ask her where she sits on your hip, "Is that better, sweetheart?" 

"Hey," he says, putting the box of sparklers on the counter. 

"Hey, Stevie," you say, in a rare tone. You always talk to him with love but he adores how you say his name now, like you've never been happier to see him in your entire life. "They had some?"

"Lucky, right? Guess I'm not the only schmuck who forgot to buy some." 

Avery rushes for his legs, a chocolate donut in one hand and a cup of juice in the other. Despite her luggage, she expects to be picked up. Steve grabs her. 

"You're cold, dad," she says. 

"Really? It's not cold out," he says. 

"You need something to warm you up." 

Steve raises his eyebrows. "Sure I do. Give me a hug, but don't get icing in my hair, please." 

Avery hugs him, sticky cheek pressing into his as her arms strain around him. He pats her back, meeting your eyes and returning your happy smile. Steve turns on the spot to see Bethie practically elbow deep in a bowl of chilli. She loves anything that comes with rice, and she eats it like someone's going to take it away from her, chilli staining her lips and cheeks, a grain of rice stuck to her chin.

"Did you get a photo of that?" he asks. 

"Of course I did," you laugh, putting Dove down to brace yourself against the counter. You stretch your neck in a tight circle. 

"Thank you. Beth, that looks so nice! Are you saving any for me?" 

"No!" she says happily, smiling wide as an ocean. 

"Good girl. Alright, you tell me when you're finished, I have something fun for after dinner." 

Dinner gets put on pause. You wipe Bethie's face clean, giggling the whole time and telling her how cute she is in your saccharine mommy voice that melts her, "We should have that more often, huh?" It's always a good day when Bethie eats well.

Steve helps Avery put her shoes on and together they step out into the backyard. It's small considering the house is a four bedroom, but maybe that's why you'd been able to afford it in the first place. You work with what space you have. There's a light wood fence, the perimeter half lined by pansies and the other side with a slim shed full of their bikes and scooters and a small bed where the girls attempted to grow strawberries last year. They didn't take, but Steve has hope for this summer. 

The yard is clean though slightly neglected, and Steve has to work spider duty before Avery will agree to step off of the doorjam. You follow soon, Dove at your shins, Bethie cautious as she steps out in her socks behind you.

"Where's your shoes?" Steve asks her. 

"I told her she didn't have to wear them," you say. "She says they're pinching her toes." 

Steve had Beth's feet measured specifically to avoid that. He assumes it isn't pinching so much as not wanting to wear them. He shrugs. "Okay. Stay on the stones then, Beth, I don't know what's in the grass. You might step on a snail." 

"Ew," she says, sitting down in the doorway.

Steve lights a sparkler for no one first of all, wondering how each girl will react. He hands it to you as the sparks jump to life, white and bright in the shade of the garden, the shadow of their house. You wave it around gently, but when each of your daughters gasps in unhappy shock, you hold your hand under the sparkler and let a spark kiss your palm. 

"They aren't dangerous," you promise. You wave it into a heart, a star, the letter A. "Does anyone wanna try?" 

"Me!" Avery shouts, holding out her hand. The sparkler burns remarkably quickly down to the stem.

"Dad will give you a new one. Hey, baby?" you put the sparkler down on the glass patio table as it sputters out. "Don't you have those gardening gloves?" 

Soon, Steve's outfitted each girl in a glove too big for their hand. He passes Avery a sparkler, and her bravery and subsequent joy prompts some jealousy in Bethie, fighting her fear to take one too. You crouch down to stand with her as she waves it around, her eyes like saucers as white sparks fly. 

"It's so pretty!" you say. 

Dove is interested, but not in holding one. Steve picks her up and lights a sparkler, raising it away from her curious hands to draw her name. Avery squeaks with happiness and proclaims it as magic. "Dad, I'm a fairy!" 

"I can see! Try not to put it by your hair, okay?" 

She squeals some more until it dies in her hand. "Can I have another one?" 

"Ooh," you coo, watching with pride as Bethie draws a circle with hers, "my girl's brave today, I'm super proud of you. Isn't this fun?"

Steve lights another one for Avery and gives Dove a loving kiss, thrilled to see them all this happy. He's really surprised Bethie's enjoying herself, but he supposes it would be hard for her to have a bad time with your hands on her shoulders, your encouragement soft and shining as angora silk. 

They must use up four or five each like that. 

"Daddy," Dove says, imploring as she touches his face. 

"What?" he asks, thinking of tacking 'my little princess' on the end but withholding. Lately every sentence he says has a pet name squeezed in the middle. He has a lot of love to give. 

She looks at him. He pats her small back, wondering if she's going to bless him with a sentence or two. She's old enough now to be talking, but she's quiet like Bethie most of the time. Or, she's not talkative —Dove is far from quiet. 

"Hotdog, please."

Steve laughs loudly. "You want me to make you a hotdog?" 

"And ketchup." 

"Yeah, I can make you a hotdog. You don't want to stay for another sparkler?" he asks. 

"No." 

He laughs again, pressing another kiss overtop the first one he'd laid on her chubby cheek. "Thank you for saying please, sweetheart. You're such a good girl." 

"Can I have a hotdog, too?" Avery asks.

"Sure you can, whatever you want. Beth? Mom?" 

You've sat down on the floor. You're probably cold, but your smile would never show it. "I think me and Bethie are going to have another helping of chilli and rice, aren't we?" you ask hopefully. 

Bethie's sparkler fizzles out. "Can we do more sparklers again?" 

"Yeah. Tell you what, let's go back inside for food and when everyone's full, we'll come outside and do some more before bed. Sound good?" 

The girls head inside, and Steve makes some hotdogs on the stove. Dove falls asleep with a bun in her hand, Bethie with her cheeks painted in sauce. Avery doesn't tire so easily, and while the others sleep, you and Steve take her out to the back door to light another sparkler. You write your names, you draw clumsy constellations. Steve writes 'I love

Avery,' grinning as she sounds out each letter. 

Avery relishes in the delight of having your unfettered attention. She stays up for hours after her sisters with you and Steve, long enough to watch stray fireworks shoot up into the sky over your backyard, her head on your shoulder, her hand in Steve's hand. 

"This is the best day ever," she says. 

Steve wants to cry. Genuinely. He meets your eyes over Avery's head, and you shuffle closer to her without speaking, enveloping her in a hug from either side. 

"Every day is the best day ever with you around, Ave," Steve says. 

"The best. Me and dad tried some fireworks, when you weren't born." Steve and Avery look at you with mirrored interest. He doesn't remember what story you're going to tell. "You would've been very small in me at the time," you say, looking up as a pink and white firework blossoms across the night sky like a peony. "Like a strawberry seed. We… didn't know you were coming. I knew. I knew, but I didn't know. I could feel you right here," —you point at your stomach— "but I had no idea what you were going to be." 

"Hey, you're right," Steve says. He forgets you were pregnant before you knew it. 

"But me and dad lived together already," you say. "We were always going to get married and have babies and stuff, but you came really quickly. You were excited." 

Steve grins. Avery hangs on your every word. 

"But anyway, me and dad lived together. Not here, but somewhere, and we didn't have a yard but there was a little patch of grass and we figured we'd buy some, but he burned a stripe of my arm hair off by accident with a long lighter, and the we didn't have a fence to nail the Catherine wheel down, and he accidentally dropped the firecracker box on the way home so it didn't work anymore, and the rockets wouldn't light." 

"Oh, no," Avery says. "You didn't have any fireworks?" 

"None. But we had a pack of sparklers. We did it just like we did with you. I wrote 'I love Stevie' in big letters, and your dad tried to hug me and jabbed me in the stomach with his burned up one." 

"Your hoodie," Steve remembers finally. "Your white hoodie, I bought it for you the week before at the mall after you threw up in Dairy Queen. I remember." 

"I had it for a week, and he got this huge ash smudge on it." 

"But you wouldn't let me wash it with bleach." 

You give Avery a kiss on the top of her head. "I wanted to remember how happy we were. I thought the smudge was a nice reminder. Turns out I got much more than a smudge." 

"You got me," Avery decodes.

"We got you," you say. "You're a thousand different things, Avery. You're smart, and kind, and pretty, and you're also a really good reminder that your dad loves me." 

"Do you need a reminder?" Steve asks, genuinely worried, and kind of in awe. How you can sit there and say something that romantic off the cuff is beyond him. He really might cry soon. 

"No," you say smugly. "You tell me all the time." 

Not enough, he decides. After this, he'll be sure to tell you more. 

Steve falls in love with you for the thousandth time.

"What I'm trying to tell you, Ave, is that dad is right. Every day with you in it is a really good day. I love you so much," you start to fizzle, which is to say your voice gets tight. You won't cry, but Steve teeters. "I'm really, really happy you had the best day ever, 'cos you make every day the best for dad and your sisters and me." 

"Really?" Avery asks softly. 

"Really," Steve says, rubbing the space between her shoulders. 

A rocket squeals into the air and fractures into a ring of spectral colours. 

Avery climbs onto her feet, and, torn between who to hug, wraps an arm around both of your necks. 

Steve wraps his arms around you both, squeezing your hip. He's gotten used to being loved, to feeling it, but tonight might be an all time high. Sparklers become a Harrington tradition that year. 

[pascalsbby]

People Talk

Masterlist

Summary: 2.3k/ f!reader, dark!joel, dbf!joel, brat tamer!joel

“Truth is, he’d been waiting for your mouth to form his name all day. He knew you’d be here, always were on the fourth regardless of what boy you were running around with or what was happening in college. This time you were here for good. Or for a while, until your daddy caught on to your problem.”

Warnings: 18+ mdni, SMUT, age gap, joel masturbating, dominate & aggressive joel, unprotected p in v, slight stalker!joel, pet names, praise kink, dubcon, he talks you through it, tells you what to do- the usual pure filth

Notes: In honor of 420 followers + no work tomorrow, here is a 4th of July, neighbor dbf!joel, quickly written and poorly looked over one shot. Love you!

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *₊.• ♡ °:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *

It was entirely too hot to be prancing around outside in that too-tight dress, pretending you missed all your daddy’s other friends- ignoring Joel purposely. Punishing him, swaying those hips towards every other man but him.

Then, you’re bending down to pick up the cornhole bags with no regard to his wandering eyes. Giving the guys hell for throwing them at you while you were walking behind the boards. Wearing red panties, white socks.

You return the bags to who they belong to, and suddenly you’re hanging off Tommy’s collar. Laughing at some dumb joke he’d probably muttered.

He offers you his beer, you take it with a giddy smile. “Oh, Tommy,” you giggled, singing his name.

How fuckin’ rude.

It was Joel’s turn. He’d seen enough of everyone else getting your attention. He walked towards the two of you, catching your gaze and holding it, intensely.

“Hi there, little lady.” Little? Hardly. At least where it mattered. But it slipped out of his mouth, more as a warning to how you were acting than anything else.

“Saved the best for last, did you?” He stepped closer, hand engulfing a beer bottle.

He nudged Tommy, fuck off.

His beard had taken on a tinge of gray, hugging his jawline and accentuating the strong contour beneath it. Wrinkles traced his neck, along with a permanent frown between his eyebrows. His skin was darker than last summer, he’d been outside working on his truck. His crow's feet had deepened with time, age.

"Hey, old man,” you dared step even closer, patting him on the back, “Feelin’ okay? I’ll go get your rocker if you need me to,” you teased.

“Long day for you, almost time for fireworks and then we can tuck ya into bed.” You continued, grinning. He could tell this is the reaction you wanted.

Teasing had always been your nature, kissing his cheek before running your fingernails against his back as you hugged hello, pressing your hips closer to his when saying goodbye. The sighs you would quietly let out as his ear passed your mouth.

You use to leave your blinds slightly ajar at dusk, enticing him to peek through and catch a glimpse of the show you put on, from the comfort of his own home. Most of the time he watched you apply lotion, focusing on your pretty, heavy tits.

A few hours later he’d see you mosey out, around 11pm, rolling and cursing cause it doesn’t turn out like you want it to. You end up smoking it anyways on the back porch.

You never could get your joints to light on the first try, either. Something else he added to his list.

He would watch your shoulders relax, your gaze follow the lightening bugs; the cicadas quiet for the frogs. Then you would dizzily sneak back in.

You started that a few years ago, picking up weed from some ex you’d brought from school one summer.

Joel imagined what your soft insides would feel like completely stoned, fucking in and out of your wetness. Sometimes he’d dip into his stash and smoke after you, using his hands in place of your mouth… your cunt.

It became a habit.

“Joel?” You asked. He stopped imagining your pussy kissing his cock.

Truth is, he’d been waiting for your mouth to form his name all day. He knew you’d be here, always were on the fourth regardless of what boy you were running around with or what was happening in college. This time you were here for good. Or for a while, until your daddy caught on to your problem.

“So you’re nice n’ graduated huh? Pretty and smart. Always knew you were gonna be somethin’,” he smirked. His eyes wandered lower than your lips. This time he didn’t stop. He was starting at your nipples through your dress, poking so pretty against the white material. They’re pierced.

Fuck. That’s new.

“You know what they say,” You leaned into him further, moving higher on your tippy toes to be face to face with him- almost.

“Mm, and what’s that?” He muttered, playfully.

You moved your hair behind your ear, looking deeply into his eyes, welcoming him in.

You want me so bad, he thought.

Then you brake his trance, and answered as if it was your turn to embarrass him. You backed up and talked in a normal-toned voice now.

“I don’t fuckin’ know, you’re the one who told me college wasn’t gonna make me any smarter. Step it up, old man- you’re fallin’ behind.”

God damnit, you were a fucking brat. And he knew it was wrong his cock hardened beneath your smart ass words.

But it didn’t stop him from indulging regardless.

He’d heard stories about you all over town since you got back. It’s been four weeks and you were already making a name for yourself, becoming a town problem.

“‘Ya know Dan’s little girl? A slut, apparently. Sheriff caught ‘er down at the lake with Andrew’s boy, said he’d call her daddy if it happened again.”

Stories of whose son did what to you when. This was a small town, and he knew you knew that.

Before you could pull completely away from him, he walked up beside you and leaned into your ear, tickling your hair falling against it.

“Be more careful who you’re suckin’ dick around, pretty. People talk.” He whispered.

You huffed at him, ready to protest but he continued, “Wouldn’t want your daddy knowin’, would ya?”

Embarrassment reddened your cheeks, eyes faltering with surprise for a moment.

“Mr. Miller, if you wanted to fuck me, you should have just asked.” You dared, saying it loud enough to make his entire body stiffen, he looks around to see if anyone heard. Then he shakes with anger at how fuckin’ stupid you’re being. No one else heard over the chattering and screaming kids, throwing snap pop fireworks onto the shimmering concrete.

Now would be a good time to teach her a lesson. No one’s listenin’ to the loud noises around them, all engulfed in their own happenings. No one would be lookin’ for her.

He’d had enough of you trying to put his reputation on the line. He reaches out, snags your arm and pulls you closer to him, forcing you to walk by his side towards the house. His body heat is radiating off of you.

It’s better he teaches you now, rather than someone else worse down the line.

“We’re gonna go inside and you’re gonna let me teach you somethin’,” he says through his teeth, leaning down into your ear, “first thing you’re gonna learn is silence, baby. Don’t say a fuckin’ word while you bend over that bed for me.” He pointed his eyes towards you with a nod. “Got it?”

He waited for confirmation.

“Oh sure, Joel,” you mocked, “whatever you want.”

“You’re just not gettin’ it are you?” He spat.

-

He’s pulling you up the stairs now, back door slamming. Everyone’s out back getting ready for the fireworks, setting out blankets and calming the children. There isn’t much light to see who is missing and who isn’t.

In front of you are Joel’s broad shoulders, left arm hanging behind him as his biceps flex from dragging you with him. He looks impending, massive, from the view you have a couple stairs down.

His grip stings, your hand starting to lose feeling. He hasn’t said a word the entire time you two have been in the house. Grunting here and there at the weight of you, not letting you move at your own pace.

The fun was gone.

“You’re scaring me, Joel.”

“Good, pretty girl. Someone needs to.”

He knows the exact path to your room, and he takes you there before busting the door open and throwing you inside behind him. He closes the door with one push of his arm.

The release of his grip knocks you to the floor in front of your bed. You catch yourself, wincing in the thud your body had made.

He didn’t apologize for it, he didn’t even help you up. He put his back against the corner of the room and was looking at you, waiting, arms crossed behind his back.

He wanted you to bend over.

His breathing was heavy and his eyes set a little lower, darker. You got up on your knees, facing him. Face red, your tears were starting to form out aggravation of how Joel was treating you, but also the tickle in your mound.

You locked eyes with him, shuffling close enough to him to reach out and unbuckle his belt. He let out a breathy chuckle, laughing at how pathetic you look- compared to your confidence from earlier.

You did what he asked, demanded, and stood up to bend yourself over your childhood bed. You spread your legs, allowing the air to hit your pussy, then your tight ring of muscle before he spit down on it, turning hour over so you’re on your back, centering himself to you.

“That’s right. Let me feel it, pretty.”

He didn’t even do you the favor of one finger to stretch you out a little. He sheathed himself into completely.

“Squeeze. Uh huh, just like that,” his mouth is barely open, in awe, looking down at you.

“I want you to watch me fuck you, okay? Can you do that?” His tone was sweeter, yet more condescending.

You lift your head, peering down at your angled body as your lips spread to suck him in, over and over and over.

“J..Joel, please.” You begged, gasping for reprise.

“It’s so much, I know. But look at you, sweet thing, you’re taking it so well. Stretching yourself on my cock so, so good.”

You pathetically whimper back. Words had left you minutes ago. And that was okay with you. Joel was taking what he wanted from you, but you wanted it just as much. So you shut up and took it.

“I know, I know, pretty girl. Shhhh,” he coos, shoving himself into you. He’s so fucking big, you’d never felt this much pressure inside of you before. You throw your arms against his chest as high as you can stretch them, trying to push him away, overwhelmed by him. Overstimulated from the depth of his cock and the tickle of his calloused fingers, running circles around your throbbing nerves.

A cry escapes your lips, and he takes it as a cry of want rather than pain.

He grabs both of your wrists in one hand then hits you. Your jaw slacks the same as your head as it fall one way. He reaches out and rubs your cheek, holding your head in his hand.

“I said be quiet, did I not? I knew this would be too much for you. No wonder the entire town knows who you’re fuckin’- they can hear you.”

Your cunt fluttered and then slowly dripped release against him.

You start to argue, no, beg for him to slow down a little. His frame is lit from the orange hued streetlights on the street below, his hair falling into his face, disheveled from how he was moving his body.

The sun was almost set when you two had come in, providing some light, but no one turned on a light. No one outside could see in. That wasn’t enough to promise this would stay hidden.

Joel drops your head and puts his palm over your gasping mouth.

His grunts above you are guttural. Joel throws his shoulders back, his head following. Fuck, it’s been so long. And you… you had decided you wanted to tease him with the neighborhood boys, with his brother.

“‘N you think any of those boys down there are gonna touch you like this?” Satisfaction filled your gut as he sat you up, holding him your arms so that the tip of his cock could kiss you deeper, and suddenly you’re finding it hard to keep the smirk off your face.

You knew you’d piss him off, hanging around Tommy like that. Looking at him like that. Bending down in front of him, taunting him while Joel stood on the side of the yard.

He noticed your grin. Oh, he hadn’t fucked it out of you yet.

“Daddy would be so sad to know that he raised a fucking slut. But that’s okay baby, I’m gonna teach you how to be a good southern bell. That’s just what you need, ain’t it?”

You didn’t answer him in time, too busy looking at your shaking thighs, burning and tired as his length stretched you further every time he pulled out and slammed back in again. You, creamy and white against his cock.

He reached out and grabbed your throat, shaking your head yes for him. “There you go. Yes.”

His grip tightened at the base of your throat, pushing out ungodly sounds until your stomach bursts with fire.

Your eyes roll back into your head, bitting your lip so hard that you can taste a familiar metallic taste. You went limp for a moment, taking what Joel had to give you.

“Tommy, I-“ You started to beg him, assure him nothing was going on between you two. You started the sentence with the wrong name.

“Did you cum so hard you forgot who was filling this pussy up? Stop saying his fuckin’ name,” he growled, pushing your face into the bed.

You stopped trying to talk and instead melted further into the feeling of Joel.

“Another thing we gotta teach you is knowin’ who you belong to.”

[crowandmousewritingco]

A Scary Bad Time

Pairing: Benjamin "Benny" Miller x gn!reader

Words: 2.2k

Rating: G, nothing spicy here peeps. This fic just shows off the golden retriever energy that this man radiates.

Summary: You agree with to go to a haunted house with your fiance. Nearing the end, you realize that the whole thing is way too much for you to process and handle.

Author: Mod Crow

Author's Note: This story using the July prompt list from @thepromptfoundry, this fic specifically is using print #8, sensory sensitivity. I don't have the disorder that I chose to write about, so if one who reads this does, please feel free to correct me! The disorder in question is Sensory Processing Disorder, if you would like to learn about SPD, follow the link below.

Info on SPD: https://www.rileychildrens.org/health-info/sensory-processing-disorders

Dipping your hands back into your cardigan’s pockets, your fingers instantly finding the flat, smooth stone that you always kept there. Normally you’d take your fiance’s hand when you started feeling overwhelmed, but he wasn’t next to you at the moment. He was buying tickets while you held your spots in line for entry. Turning towards the ticket booth, you looked through the line trying to see him. When you didn’t see him in line however you could feel your chest tighten. You could feel yourself getting close to that edge, but that was until you saw the familiar brown hair and blue eyes and -arguably your favorite part of his face- his smile. 

“Sorry about the wait, sweetheart, the couple in front of me started arguing.” Benny slung his arm on your shoulders and gently pulled him into his side. You couldn’t help but lean into his body, the warmth he radiated was nice in the cool October evening air. But it wasn’t just the warmth, it was him. The fact that was simply touching you was more than enough to bring down the residual anxiety that was left over from just moments ago. 

You looked up to Benny, chin resting on the side of his chest. “You promise to stay right beside me the whole time right?” You puffed out your bottom lip ever so slightly, just enough so that you were giving him your famous puppy dog face, or as he likes to call it the ‘definition of having to say yes’. 

You scanned his face as he looked at you, he offered back a soft, honest smile, “Of course sweetheart. If they try to take you from me I’ll fight them.” Hearing him chuckle at his joke made you giggle in response. “It’s nice to know that not only is my soon-to-be-husband handsome and funny, but he’s also a body guard.” 

By the time Benny returned and you had your chance to calm down, the line finally started moving. You were hoping that the line would move just slow enough that you could convince yourself that this was going to be A-okay; though something deep in the pit of your stomach felt heavy. 

“Tickets please.” the sound of the annoyed teen’s voice pulled you from your worrying brain. You looked to Benny right as he handed over the tickets, ‘Too late to back out now.’ Taking a deep breath you put up the front that there wasn’t an ounce of nerves in your body.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Benny wasn’t lying when he said he’d fight someone if they tried to split the two of you up. Right after the two of you had entered, a blood covered butcher was the first to try, and the first to back down. The only other person who tried was a little girl who had dressed as a haunted, cracked porcelain doll. Benny hadn’t actually threatened the kid, but he did do a pretty great job at scaring her shitless. 

“I told you I’d fight whoever I needed, sweetheart.” Benny’s voice was soft as he planted a kiss on your forehead. The two of you stood there a moment, maybe Benny realized that you weren’t feeling the best, or maybe he simply wanted a moment to just yourselves. Even if that happened to be right now in a haunted house.

“We should probably keep moving before others come walking through.” You step back just enough to show that you were okay to continue. Benny studied your face for a moment, ‘Oh no, can he tell that something is wrong?’ But just as the thought entered your head, Benny was offering a soft smile before continuing through the Halloween attraction. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

According to Benny, the two of you were drawing closer to the end, but to you it looked like this thing would keep going on for the rest of your lives. Your grip on Benny’s jacket sleeve at this point was in a white knuckled, death grip. You’d be damned if now would be the time that you get separated, and you knew it was getting obvious that this was quickly becoming too much.

As the two of you entered a new room -this one decorated like an abandoned laboratory- you looked around trying to familiarize yourself with the new surroundings. Benny however, was looking down at you, worried, laced throughout his blue eyes. Looking at Benny you saw his eyes,and the look on his face. As you went to calm him however, the once dimly lit room suddenly went black. The sudden darkness isn’t what tipped you over the edge however, it was the feeling of someone grabbing your shoulders and giving you a little tug. At the feeling of tugging, you felt a not-so-unfamiliar pain shoot through your shoulders. Then at the sound of the whisper in your ear you realized what was happening. ‘I’m way beyond overstimulated,’ Looking towards where you think Benny was standing, you gave an apologetic look and thought to yourself, ‘Sorry Benji.’ Squeezing your eyes shut, you could feel yourself almost…turn off. You no longer were in control. Shoving the person off of you, you felt your feet carry you in the other direction, the direction of the exit. Or so you hoped so. 

With your eyes still closed you felt your body collide with other people, though you couldn’t tell who was another patron, or a scare actor. After the collisions slowed, you finally opened your eyes. Looking around you could tell you were still in the haunted house, but you couldn’t place where. Other than the unfamiliarity of the area, you relished in the relative quietness of the area. Walking closer to the wall, you could feel yourself coming back to your body. Touching the wall you quickly pulled away, the wall felt…wrong. Clenching your jaw, you drop to a sitting position and pull your knees to your chest. You buried your face in your legs, trying to calm yourself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He could tell something was wrong when they had the last couple of rooms. Something just felt off about you. Maybe it was the way your grip tightened on his jacket sleeve, or maybe it was the subtle way your breathing had changed. Before it was forced deep breaths and now it was ragged quick inhales. Despite having noticed the changes, and prepared for the possible shut down, he wasn’t prepared for the lights to go out. Nor was he prepared for you to let go of his jacket and vanish by the time the lights came back on.

“Sweetheart?” Benny looked around the small room that you had just been in. At first Benny had been relatively calm while looking for you. He had assumed you had found one of the walls of the room and were sitting there. But after walking the parameter and still not finding you, he could feel his own pulse racing. Benny knew you had a hard time in public places because of all of the senses. Going back to the middle of the room Benny stood there a moment, ‘If they’d had run towards the exit, we would have bumped into each other. So that means…’ Looking towards the way back, Benny sighed and made his way through.

Soft ‘sorry’s and ‘pardon me’s left Benny’s lips as he made his way through the crowd. As he walked through the haunted house backwards, Benny noticed the areas that allowed the scareers to hide from view. Walk past each one he would dip his head around the corner and scan the area. The deeper he made it back into the attraction, the more worried he grew for you…and how angry he was at himself. He had promised to not let the two of you get split up, and what was he doing right now? Looking for you because he had failed you, he had broken a promise. Something he had sworn to you the day he proposed to you. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

‘Inhale for four, hold for two, exhale for six.’ You kept repeating to yourself in your head, hands under the bend of your legs, fingers rubbing the obsidian worry stone that once lived in your jacket pocket. 

“Sweetheart?” At first the familiar voice and pet name didn’t register in your brain. Somehow he sounded far away, yet so close at the same time. You also didn’t quite register to the following calls either. It wasn't until Benny was crouched in front of you on the floor, his lips saying your name, that it registered that his hand on your arm. You had expected the touch to feel like before, red hot, razor sharp pins being forced into your skin at electric speed; but Benny’s touch wasn’t. While his touch didn’t hurt like hell, it was still unpleasant, like a loose shirt on healing sunburn.

“Hey, you made me even more scared than Will is with snakes.” You could tell he was trying to help by telling stupid jokes because he knew it was what you liked when you didn’t feel your best. You knew he wanted a laugh, a giggle, hell, you knew damn well that he’d even take that huff of air that sometimes happens with reading something dumb, but dumb that borders on being funny. You wanted to give that Benny, you really did. What you didn’t want to do though, was lie about how you’re feeling. 

Shutting your eyes, you move one of your shaking hands to your pocket and drop the smooth stone. Once empty, your hand retreats from the pocket and joins along your other hand, atop your knees. With your hands on your knees, you take a couple of breaths in an attempt to quell the shaking in your hands and the pounding in your chest. As you took your last deep breath, you opened your eyes and locked them with Benny’s bright blue ones. 

“Thank you for finding me,” You smiled softly, in an attempt to help you convince Benny that you’re okay. “Oh and I’m sorry about that whole, running off thing.” You joked weakly. You could tell that your joke wasn’t helping calm your worried fiance. Thinking for a moment you decided to reach out and take Benny’s hands. Once you had his hands in hand, you brought them back to rest on your knees. Without talking, you opened his hands and studied them, running your fingers over the prominent lines at first, before turning over his hands to do the same with the scars that were scattered over his knuckles from the years of boxing. 

After a silent moment you looked at Benny once again, though this time he wasn’t staring at you. Well at least not at your face, instead his eyes were glued to where the two of you were tangled, your hands. Detaching one of your entangled hands, you lifted it to rest on Benny’s cheek. Running your thumb along his cheek you watched as he lifted his blue eyes from your hands, to yours. As you looked at each other you felt Benny pull one of his hands away. Once his hand was in your peripheral, you looked at it and followed it to its resting point. On top of yours. 

“Sweetheart, are you okay? What happened back there?” You could tell Benny was still worried, and you knew he wouldn’t feel one hundred percent better till he knew the truth. The whole truth. Taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out. 

“Benji,” He knew that tone and nickname from the times you were crying, or was giving bad news. “You know how I’m sensitive to…well everything?” You watch as he nods, him almost knowing that his talking might be too much for you right now. “Well there’s more to it than that. I have sensory processing disorder, SPD. I’m more sensitive to things. To me sometimes sounds are way louder than they really are, and sometimes light touches feel like slaps.” You take a moment, the sound of your own voice becoming too much. 

“Wh-What happened in there doesn’t happen often. The last time that happened I was a sophomore in high school. I had to give my baby presentation in home economics, and during my presentation a couple of babies went off -mine included- and it became too much. I dropped my papers and kinda speed walked out of the class.” Hearing Benny chuckle helped calm you. 

The two of you sat, hidden behind a fake wall, for a while. Just talking. By the time a worker had found the two of you, you were perfectly content. Benny helped you to your feet and dusted off the dirt on your butt and back. Benny led the way to the entrance -since the two of you were closer to that than the exit- you followed happily behind.

 Once out of the attraction, he led the way to his car. From there the two of you drove around till dawn, talking over the soft music of the car’s radio. Once the yawns started Benny was quick to get home. He was even quicker to get you from your side of the car, unlock the door and let you in. Not only was it quick for him to help strip you of your date clothes, but also help you find your way to your bed. He wrapped his arm around you the second your legs were on the bed, pulling you in close. He kissed the side of your face to the best of his ability, and whispered an ‘I love you’. As soon as the words left his mouth you slipped off to dreamland.

[chaotic-orphan]

Heroic betrayal (viii)

Part one here

Continued from here

TW: Carewhump, carewhumper, broken nose, lady whump, lady whumpee

Happy 4th July to those who celebrate it!! (And those who don’t)

*~*~*~*~*

Hero lingered by the stairs, not quite meeting Flynn’s eyes as he approached her. Instead she stared at the hall Supervillain disappeared down, her heart building itself up and breaking again with every breath she took.

“Hero,” Flynn said, voice soft. Hero swallowed the lump in her throat, trying to compose herself but she was rattled… Supervillain terrified her. “Hey, Hero.”

Hero stumbled back a step, eyes flashing to Flynn’s outstretched hand, as if he was about to touch her cheek. Her eyes hardened into stone as she sharpened her gaze into a chilling glare.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” she whispered, deathly quiet. Her voice trembling out of a mix of fear and fury. Flynn had the gall to look hurt by her outburst, as if it was a shock that she would react like this after he left her alone, with Supervillain of all people. She searched his face, looking for a sign of sympathy or vulnerability, any trace of the Flynn she knew. The hero who was always her shoulder to cry on when things got hard.

“Hero,” Flynn said again, her name like a prayer from his lips. “I’m sorry. This is my family. They always have been.”

“And I’m just the job, right?”

Flynn didn’t reply and maybe that said everything. She half-turned her body to the staircase and nodded to him to go first. Mostly to try and hide her unshed tears from him.

Flynn sighed, running his hand through his hair before he started up the stairs. She followed after him, dragging her lead-like feet. Hero stopped at the top of the stairs and glanced to the left while Flynn went to the right. The stairs were in the centre of the landing, two doors to the left, three to the right, but Flynn didn’t go for one of the doors. Hero followed him so he wouldn’t get suspicious of her scoping out the lay of the house, but she almost rolled her eyes when she saw the second set of stairs.

As if sensing her disbelief, Flynn glanced at her over his shoulder and shrugged, a half hearted smile on his face. “I told Supervillain how capable you were. He took it seriously.”

Hero swallowed, the words like a knife in the chest… or more accurately the back. She blinked at him, wanting to scream and charge and hurt him, but she just stared.

Flynn nodded and started up the stairs again. These stairs were cut in half in a double L shape adding more corners; slowing Hero’s escape if she were to come barrelling down them in the middle of the night. She’d waste time having to turn three times, the only benefit was that her pursuers would also have to make the turns.

That little nugget of satisfaction crumbled when Flynn opened the door to her room, because that’s all that was on this floor: one single room. All for her.

So they’d hear her coming.

She bit her lip to keep in the helpless sob that wanted to escape her throat. She had to stay cool. Stay cool, stay cool, Hero. It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s—

“So this is your room,” Flynn said as she stepped in, gesturing to the big space that was all hers. He looked back at her to see her reaction and immediately was beside her. “Hero… you’re crying.”

Those two words broke her and she didn’t hold her emotions back any longer. She stepped away from him, trying to put space between them when her knees buckled, going like jelly beneath her and she fell heavy. Flynn caught her before she hit the ground and she hated the way she leaned into him, clinging to his shirt as shaky sobs wracked her body.

He held her tight, one hand on her hair, brushing it from her face so her tears wouldn’t wet it, lightly running his fingers through it. “I know. It’s okay. I know, you’re okay. It’s okay, Hero. Let it out. I’m here.”

There were no words that could fully encapsulate her distress so she didn’t try and speak. She hated how comforting Flynn’s cologne was, how soft his words were in her ears. Everything was so familiar and—

Fake, a nasty voice supplied. All his kindness and love was just a way to get close to you, to keep you close to him so he could betray you and get you here. Keep you here.

The salt from her tears washed into the cut in her lip from Villain and she winced. Usually, she was far more robust than tears making her flinch but she was just exhausted. It was a long night… or day. Or both? Whatever.

She sat up in Flynn’s arms and let him wipe the tears from her cheeks with his thumb and forefinger. He offered her a small, encouraging smile and she forced one onto her face. If she was going to be here for an indefinite long time then she needed at least one person on her side. Since Villain already hated her guts and Supervillain was happy to have her not causing any trouble, the only one who she could sway was Flynn.

It was Supervillain’s master plan after all, making Flynn become her partner, her best friend… even, in fleeting moments, more than that. It was her greatest mistake, trusting him, leaving an acrid taste in her mouth, or maybe that was just the dried blood. He looked down at her lips, then back to her eyes, a sad look crossing his features.

“Here,” Flynn said, taking her arm gently and pulling a magnetic key from his pocket. He pressed the magnet to the bar and the cuffs clicked open like a ring-binder, freeing her wrists. She retracted them to her chest, slowly getting to her feet. She stood still, rubbing her wrists as she took in the room.

To be fair to Supervillain, it wasn’t the cramped cell like the basement, it was spacious, it had two skylight windows high on the domed roof, high enough that she couldn’t climb out of them without a considerable effort on her part, or maybe she was just tired. A large, extremely comfortable-looking bed was directly in front of the door, pressed against the back wall with two cherry wooden bedside dressers. One had a lamp on it, the other a handful of books.

“There’s clothes in the wardrobe, but if you need anything I can grab it from your apartment or bring some stuff from mine.”

“Okay,” Hero replied. Flynn played with the cuffs in his hand like he so usually did. Always fidgeting when there was something on his mind. She didn’t prompt him to speak like she normally would. She didn’t have it in her.

“Um, if you need anything, my bedroom is the first door on the right from the stairs.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, uh, I’ll leave you then. To get settled in and stuff.”

Hero nodded, biting her lip to keep in her sob. Half of her wanted to jump at him and wrap her arms around him and ask him not to leave her alone, but the other half was stronger, prouder and so she just stayed still as he left and shut the door behind him.

Hero tentatively approached the bed, taking small, easy steps until she sat down into it. The sheets were nice, the duvet cover soft. The duvet was thick, heavy, and Hero could just imagine the warmth and comfort smothering her into unconsciousness.

There was a full length mirror in the small alcove beside the door and Hero almost started crying at her appearance. Her hair was a mess. It looked more like a bird’s nest made with dirt, leaves and twigs, probably from the scuffle in the woods with Flynn. Tear tracks streaked clean trails down their cheeks, cutting through some of the blood that was caked under her nose, and down her chin.

Crimson drops of blood were stained on Hero’s grey tunic that was visible below her thick, leather armour. She wanted nothing more than to just take it all off and burn it. If Supervillain got his way, Hero wouldn’t have a use for it ever again. She shivered at the thought and shoved it down deep inside her, locking it away until she was ready to deal with it.

Hero’s eyes zeroed in on her shoulder harness and she shot to her feet, turning and reaching behind her. Her hands found the familiar grips of her blades and she could’ve screamed. She unsheathed them with a swift, sharp click and a shink. Hero turned again to face the mirror and she smiled when she saw the usual fire in her eyes.

How stupid could Supervillain be that he—

The fire flickered in her eyes to a stupor, a sporadic smoulder, as the light dimmed and fizzled out. Her grip turned white knuckled on her blades, her hands shaking as the realisation dawned on her.

This was just another way to humiliate her. Supervillain knew she would never use them, because if she did… if she even thought about such a thing then Sidekick would die and he’d reduce her to nothing, lock her in the cellar and throwaway the key. Leave her to Villain, or her own despair, whichever killed her first.

She sheathed her daggers and undid the strap of the belt that crisscrossed over her chest and back, deflating as she went through the familiar motions. She pressed a hand to the front and lifted her dual scabbard-pauldron-hybrid over her head, laying it out carefully on a cherry wood table against a wall. Ignoring the fact that the wood in the room was all cherry, and the pang in her chest at sharing that it was her favourite with Flynn. She slipped her armour off as well, though the belts and buckles took more time to unfasten and she let her mind wander into nothingness.

The first thing she noticed when she was relieved of her armour was the stench of her; a mix of blood, sweat and fear clung to her skin. She didn’t want to have a shower, she didn’t want to interact with anyone in the house ever again, but she didn’t really have a choice in the matter.

She walked to the wardrobe and ignored the usual style of clothes she wore as a civilian, grabbing a grey tracksuit bottoms and a sweatshirt, and fresh underwear she walked to the door and opened it. Flynn’s back greeted her, and she paused, brain too slow to process that.

“Can I use the shower?” She asked, voice empty.

Flynn shot to his feet, almost startled at her voice. She blinked at him as he turned. “Uh, yeah. Yes, of course. This way.”

She didn’t talk the entire way down the stairs. Thankfully the bathroom was on the second floor, but it was on the other end of the second floor. Hero’s heart leaped into her throat as hope — that wretched, black thing — bloomed once more. She had to cross the other set of stairs to get to the bathroom. Tantalising information that she locked away in the cunning corner of her mind and continued on as if she were still hopeless and heartbroken. It wasn’t hard to fake, a lie wrapped in truth, all numbed by exhaustion.

Flynn opened the door for her. “Do you need me to show—”

“No,” she replied. “I can figure it out. Thank you.”

She passed him, and when their chests touched a pained expression crossed Flynn’s face. Hero ignored it and closed the door on him, her heart stuttering as she clicked the lock shut. She pressed her forehead against the door, letting out a breath.

How the fuck was she going to survive this?

*~*~*~*~*

Hero’s face was obscured in the mirror, which was fine by her, she didn’t want to see her face, now washed clean of dirt and grime. It still felt like it was on her, a film of filth that coated her entire body. Maybe that was Flynn’s betrayal, she didn’t know, but she felt a little better after the shower.

Now she stared at the door with a mutinous gaze. The locked door was a false blessing of security, but one she clung to with all her heart. She knew she had to leave eventually but she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to do a lot of things, swallow her pride and stay in this fucking house filled with enemies that wanted her out of the picture.

Sidekick’s battered body flashed across her eyes and she swallowed the bile that threatened to rise and spew from her mouth.

She got to her feet and stomped over to the door before she lost the nerve. She half expected to see Flynn waiting outside like before, instead she was met with two gleaming eyes.

Hero’s nostrils flared. “Villain.”

“You clean up nicely,” Villain said stepping towards her. Hero fought the urge to step back, narrowing her eyes into a glare. “Of course, your nose is all busted. Definitely broken, I think.”

“What do you want?”

“Me?” Villain asked with a smirk. “I want you dead. As a sign to the rest of your little heroes not to fuck with us.”

Hero closed the distance between them with a step, putting her face in Villain’s, despite her thrumming heart. “Too bad your family wants me alive. I guess we’ll both have to endure this misery.”

“You more so than I. After all, I’m not on house arrest. I can always go and visit sick people in the hospital—”

Hero lunged for Villain but was stopped by her name: “Hero.”

Hero’s head snapped to Supervillain, fear flashing across her features before she could school them properly. Supervillain smiled, his eyes drifting between the pair.

“I trust my child is not causing you any trouble.”

“Not at all,” Villain replied smoothly. “Just waiting for the loo.” Villain shoulder checked Hero on their way into the bathroom, shutting the door behind.

“I see you’ve settled in. I trust your room is to your liking.” Hero swallowed, a pitiful attempt to clear the ashen dryness that came to her mouth when Supervillain spoke to her.

“Flynn made sure of that,” she said, turning and walking back towards her room. She had to pass Supervillain to do that. He caught her arm before she could pass.

“You must let me treat your nose.”

“I thought it was a warning to not act out.”

Supervillain chuckled lightly. “No, sweet Hero. I don’t intend to treat you inhumanly. Besides, I think Sidekick’s life is enough of a threat to keep you in check.”

Hero yanked their arm free. “I don’t want anything from you.”

“How adorable that you think this is an offer you can refuse.” Supervillain gestured for Hero to walk down the stairs to the ground floor. She hesitated, not wanting to spend another second with Supervillain but her heart betrayed her head and she reluctantly turned on her heel, walking downstairs.

Supervillain followed behind. “To the kitchen, Hero,” he instructed. Hero turned right at the hall, passing the dining room and walking straight into what she assumed was the kitchen.

Supervillain chuckled as he followed her in. “You’re already familiar with the layout, I see.”

Hero didn’t reply. Even if she wanted to the words would’ve died on her throat seeing Flynn sitting at the island in the middle of the giant kitchen. It looked like a kitchen from downtown abbey, or the crown or something, but modernised with all new furniture and appliances.

“Hero,” Flynn said, his eyes flicking past her to Supervillain’s, and back again, harder this time. “How was your shower?”

Hero lingered awkward by the door, grabbing her wrist and rubbing her thumb over her skin. “Yeah. It was fine, thanks.”

“Sit beside Flynn, Hero.”

Hero shot him a black look at the order, but she walked towards Flynn anyways. “Why?” Flynn asked, locking his phone and putting it on the counter in front of him.

A phone. Hero tucked that information away in the back of her mind, she hadn’t even thought about phones until now.

“I’m going to re-align her nose so it heals properly.”

Flynn didn’t say anything to the explanation as Hero climbed onto the high chair beside him. She stifled a gasp when she felt Flynn’s hand snake into hers, flooding her with warmth and comfort that she hated coming from him. She hated how her body reacted to him like he was still the one person in the world that could make her feel safe and secure.

That alone she could live with. The thing that turned her stomach, and planted a deep seed of resentment inside her, was the fact that she didn’t pull away from him. She kept her hand firmly in his, his fingers intertwining with hers; that’s what would keep her up at night.

Supervillain walked over to her with a first aid kit in hand. He placed the box on the island counter and stepped in front of Hero, looking down at her with a small smile. Hero didn’t want him to touch her, to be this close to her, but she also didn’t want her nose to fuck up her breathing while she was here.

“May I?” Supervillain asked lifting his hands to her face. Flynn squeezed her fingers reassuringly. Hero swallowed her pride and nodded.

Supervillain cupped Hero’s cheek gently, his other hand going under her chin to tilt her head up as he inspected the damage with intelligent eyes.

“This will not be pleasant,” Supervillain said after a minute of silence. “Though, Flynn can tell you the amount of times I had to reset his nose as a boy. I became a pro.”

“It’s true,” Flynn said with a laugh. “And you had to do Vil’s twice.”

“Okay, Hero. I’m going to count down from three, and I’ll break it and get it over with, okay?”

“Okay.” Hero braced themselves, squeezing Flynn’s hand as hard as she could.

“Good. Three—” Hero let out a sharp cry and a curse as Supervillain grabbed her nose in his hand and re-broke it with a crunch. It sent waves of pain rocketing through her skull as she groaned, spots forming in her vision as she pulled back instinctively. Supervillain kept a hand behind her head so she couldn’t pull away as he re-aligned her nose so it would heal properly.

“There we go, I’m sorry. It’s done, that’s the hard part,” Supervillain said as shocked tears slid down Hero’s cheeks. Supervillain tilted Hero’s head up again, twisting her face left and right, eyes focused on her nose as he moved her head. “Mmm. Marvellous. It looks good to me, but I think just to be sure, we should re-align it properly with the rods.”

Hero’s eyes hardened into a glare. “No,” she said. “It’s fine. It feels fine. It will heal itself.”

“Hero, it probably is—”

She rounded on Flynn, yanking her hand from his. “Oh please! Whose side are you on?”

“I think you need to calm down, Hero,” Supervillain told her. The condescension in his tone just rubbed her the wrong way and before Hero had even realised it a sharp knife was between her fingers, one from the knife block beside the sink. It wasn’t lined the way her blades were but it would do the trick.

“Tell me to calm down again,” she spat, jumping to her feet. “See what happens.”

Flynn got to his feet the same time as Hero, cautiously looking between the two, waiting for Supervillain to give him the word before he did anything. God, how could Hero have been so stupid to trust him?!

Supervillain was the only one of the trio that looked the same before Hero summoned the knife. Actually, if anything, he looked more relaxed as he folded his arms across his chest.

“I don’t need to see what happens, Hero,” he said, fishing something from his pocket. His phone. “I just make a call and Sidekick is smothered in their sleep.”

Hero let the knife fly, the point a line on Supervillain’s throat before settling heavy against his carotid artery. “Hard to do that if you’re dead.”

Supervillain smiled and grabbed the handle of the knife. “That’s fine by me, Hero. Give Villain the satisfaction of killing Sidekick.”

Hero’s shaky resolve crumbled, and her shoulders sagged as she dropped the knife. Its weight settled firm into Supervillain’s hand. He smiled at her and said: “good. Now, sit up and tilt your head back.”

“Dad—”

Supervillain held a hand up. “No, no. She’ll do it. Watch.”

Hero obeyed wordlessly, climbing the stool and tilting her head back, squeezing her fingers into fists on her thighs. “Look at that, Flynn. A hero that can take instruction. You could learn a thing or two from her.”

Neither Flynn nor Hero responded. Something uneasy shifted under Flynn’s skin as he watched the girl he love, the usually passionate, fiery Hero, silent and subdued, waiting to do something she didn’t want to do.

Supervillain took his time, leaving Hero sitting on the chair with her head back. He first crossed the kitchen to put the knife into the dishwasher, then some extra dishes on the sink before washing and drying his hands, Hero’s eyes following him all the while. Her head grew heavy on her shoulders like she was trying to hold back a kettle bell. Her neck strained as she struggled to keep it steady, not to move a muscle because she didn’t want to give Supervillain the satisfaction of seeing her fail.

Supervillain smiled at Flynn as he approached them, and took out two familiar metal rods that he used on Flynn to fix his broken nose last year. “Hold her head for me, Flynn. You know how uncomfortable this can be.”

Flynn hesitated. He didn’t want to touch Hero without asking her after that scene, and it didn’t feel… right to just do it.

“It’s fine, Flynn,” Hero said softly as if reading his mind. Flynn swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, more for himself than anyone else and placed his hands gently under Hero’s head while Supervillain sterilised the metal rods.

Hero closed her eyes as Flynn took the leaden weight from her shoulders, happy that she could finally let go and relax. Flynn was there, right behind her (literally) as she went through this new change in her life that was entirely Flynn’s fault. The mutinous part of herself, that she kept chained in the basement of her mind ever since his betrayal, was preening with the fact that Flynn was there, because he would always be there. The one thing he promised her when they first became partners in the Hero academy.

He would always be there, and here he was; supporting her head through this very hard time. Or maybe it was the sheer exhaustion that had turned her mind to mush, her logic left her and she was left only with this infuriating light feeling of safety in his hands.

“Okay, Hero. This will hurt.”

That was all the warning she got before Supervillain pressed the rods into her nose and she fought the instinct to jerk forward. “Fuck!”

“Try not to speak,” Flynn said softly, rubbing the coarse pads of his thumbs over her temples. Hero whined in the back of her throat as she felt the rods move against the walls of her nose, fixing the cartilage. Even the vibrations from her pained hums seemed to hurt her head.

But Flynn was there, whispering to her.

“You’re doing great.”

“It’s almost done.”

“You’re okay, Hero.”

“It’s okay.”

His encouragement mixed with his motions of her temples brought her into a weird, fugue state where her body only recognised the sensations from Flynn’s hands and voice and numbed everything else. Later on, she would realise he was probably in her head, re-arranging some of the furniture, but in that moment she just closed her eyes and sank into the feeling.

“There,” Supervillain said, pulling the rods free. Hero’s eyes opened lazily, staring up at a grinning Supervillain. “All done. You’ll be perfect in three weeks. Just in time too.”

Hero’s eyelids fluttered, the fuzzy feeling in her taking over now that the danger was passed. “Three weeks?” She heard Flynn say. “That’s too soon.”

“Not at all,” someone said, maybe Supervillain. Probably, who cares. “Three weeks and she’ll have come to see our side of things, Flynn. Just look at her in your hands, completely out of it. I could tell her my big dark secret and she wouldn’t remember, would you Hero?”

“I did that so she wouldn’t freak out—”

Hero didn’t hear the rest of the conversation. She allowed the fuzziness to consume her like a weighted blanket, and finally, mercifully, sleep took her away from the world of consciousness.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

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[whumpsday]

Ancient Evils

Whump Oneshot - Writing masterlist

find my G/t blog here: @smallsday

content: g/t whump, giant whumpee, demon whumpee, magical whump, isolation, claustrophobia, burns, forced to obey, rescue, hurt/comfort, caretaking

Whumpmas in July Day 21: Abandoned GT July Day 21: Coveted Hug a Giant Day

dammit i did that thing again where i write a oneshot and it turns into the setup for a miniseries. will write a followup to this eventually lol but it also works as a standalone <3 (edit: might just leave this as a standalone, who knows)

-

The tomb was covered in glowing runes Berian knew from his studies, but had never encountered in use until today. Symbols carved painstakingly into stone by ancients, covering every inch of the thirteen-foot stone box, all screaming a single purpose: keep whatever lies inside sealed within.

The magic used to activate them was powerful, powerful enough to seal the tomb for two thousand years, powerful enough that the caster had surely died, given what they had to work with back then. It was likely all they could think to do in their desperation, back then. Berian uttered a quick prayer for the caster who came before him, who had sacrificed themself to save countless: long-dead, but not forgotten.

At least he wouldn’t have to follow in their footsteps. Two thousand years was, thankfully, enough time to develop a better solution. A way of utilizing the demon’s own magic against itself.

Though it was always in the back of his mind as a backup, in case something went wrong. Hopefully, the knot of anxiety in his stomach would dissipate after it was done.

Berian looked to his watches, lined up one after the other on his wrist, all still in sync, and waited.

As soon as it hit twenty seconds until release, he began chanting as practiced, his staff pointed directly at the tomb. He had to time it just right, or his colleagues out at the entrance probably wouldn’t even be able to come retrieve his corpse.

“Finis.”

Precisely at the same moment Berian bound the spell, the runes ceased to glow, a forceful BANG sounding from within the tomb.

He exhaled slow. The lid stayed shut. After only a few seconds, the runes resumed glowing once more. He’d done it.

The entity inside screamed.

Berian jumped back. The screaming did not stop, a wail of agony and despair. Barely audible under it all, his phone beeped, the least of his worries.

“Hello?” he called out, hesitant.

A voice roared from inside. “LET ME OUT.”

In all his wildest imaginings, Berian had never imagined the demon would speak to him.

He could, he realized. The spell had bound the demon to his will: it would have to obey him even outside the tomb.

And it was the only chance he would ever get. And they had backup plan after backup plan in place in case things went horribly wrong.

“...Okay. Don’t move.”  This would at least be a good test of whether the spell would hold, he told himself. It was safer this way, really.

Berian tried to lift the lid, but it was simply too heavy, a gigantic slab of solid stone. He pointed his staff to it, muttering just the right words to let it slide off to the side.

The demon looked like a man. He hadn’t expected that. He was as tall as the tomb was long, easily more than twice Berian’s height, with large, curled horns protruding from his head, but other than that, he looked human.

True to Berian’s order, he did not move a single muscle. His body lay stock-still within, his arms raised and palms up–he’d been attempting to push the lid off himself. Overlapping scars streaked down his skin wherever it touched the stone in the pattern of the runes, burned in as though with a branding iron. Massive shackles cinched tight around his wrists, ankles, and neck, chains binding him to the inside of the tomb.

The demon did not speak again, his eyes wide with overwhelming alarm.

It was only after a moment of taking him all in with awe that Berian realized it was him preventing the demon from doing so.

“You can move,” he amended. In addition to forcing the demon to use his own magic to re-activate the runes, the initial spell had contained a command preventing him from leaving the tomb. This would just be going overkill.

The demon gasped, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “OUT. OUT. YOU WILL RELEASE ME.”

Berian winced. “I can’t do that. You’ll hurt people, like last time, right?”

To Berian’s continued amazement, the demon began to cry.

“ONLY YOUR ENEMIES. OR NO ONE AT ALL. WHATEVER ARE THE TERMS. WHAT MUST I DO TO BE RELEASED?”

Berian could have sworn he heard that powerful voice break, just a little.

“NAME YOUR TERMS,” the demon insisted. Berian was sure now, the desperation palpable.

The demon shifted slightly, and everywhere the stone touched new skin, it burned.

“You–you will harm no one,” Berian started, before he’d even thought how this was going to work. “You will stay in this section of the cave. You will not touch my staff or any other conduit of magic. You may exit the tomb.”

Berian had never seen something so huge move so quick. The demon burst from the stone box like a firework, chains snapping like rubber bands under his freed might, the ends hanging limply from his shackles. The cave ceiling was not tall enough for him to stand and he did not try, scrambling as far away as he could get and huddling against the wall there.

His phone beeped again.

The demon glared at him, his chin tucked into the metal wrapped around his neck, breathing heavily.

This wasn’t right. This was a demon that had wrought terror across lands, responsible for thousands of deaths, a giant among men. He wasn’t supposed to be… pitiful.

“Hey–”

“I WILL NOT GO BACK IN.” Now that he was out of the tomb, Berian could see the true extent of the damage, the burns even more intense on skin that had been pressed against the bottom. As huge as the box was, it had been built scarcely larger than the man before him, big enough to fit him and no more. Skin that had been pressed against the bottom was particularly scarred, so much so that it was essentially a giant burn, the symbols impossible to make out.

“I’m not going to make you go back in there,” Berian promised. Maybe a stupid promise. What the fuck was he going to do? “So just… it’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

He certainly wasn’t expecting that. The demon’s glare gave way to surprise. “GOOD.”

Berian took an experimental step forward, like he was coaxing out a feral cat. “Do you have a name? Mine’s Berian. I’m–” Don’t say caster. “...A researcher.” It wasn’t a lie, after all.

The demon picked his head up. “THEY CALLED ME ALARIC. ALL-POWERFUL.” The words rang bitter.

“Were you… awake in there, all this time?” Berian asked, dreading the answer.

The glare returned. “I DO NOT SLEEP.”

“We didn’t know you were awake. You weren’t supposed to be awake.” Berian took a couple more steps forward.

Alaric put his hand up, huge, sharp claws protruding from every finger. Berian flinched, squeezing his eyes shut with a small yelp, but there was no attack: his commands prevented it. When he opened his eyes, he found Alaric merely motioning for him to stop.

“DO NOT BRING THAT NEAR ME.” He pointed to Berian’s staff.

“Okay! Okay.” He set the staff down on the ground, bringing his hands up in a placating motion. “See? You follow my commands, I follow yours, it goes both ways. I don’t have it.”

Alaric lowered his hand. “YOU MAY PROCEED, MAGE.”

Heart fluttering and permission granted, Berian did. He walked right up to him: even huddled on the floor, Alaric was taller than Berian was standing.

“STATE YOUR PURPOSE HERE.”

“Right! I, ah, I was sent to… re-seal you. But I won’t!” Berian clarified hurriedly. “Really, I was just sent to make sure nobody gets hurt. Like–like the last time you were out. That’s fine, right?”

Alaric narrowed his eyes. “IT IS DONE.”

“Good! Good.” Berian hovered a hand inches from his skin. “You’re hurt.”

“YES. THAT.” Alaric nodded toward the tomb and shuddered.

In order to create something that could contain a demon, they’d had to make something so totally opposed that it had harmed him. Berian didn’t blame the ancients: they had to stop the massacres one way or another, and they worked with what they had. They were desperate.

But there was no massacre now.

Without his staff, the kinds of spells he could perform were limited, but not nothing. While he couldn’t cast outright healing spells–would they even work on a demon?--he could at least cast something soothing. “I could… help. If you want.”

Alaric eyed him silently for a few moments before responding. “DO AS YOU WISH.”

“I can touch you?” Berian asked.

The demon nodded. Berian laid his hand lightly against Alaric’s back, red with harsh welts. He could feel Alaric’s muscle underneath, tensed, twitching slightly at his touch.

His whispered incantation didn’t do much. It was the magical equivalent of putting aloe on third-degree burns. But it was something, and Berian felt Alaric relax just slightly under his hand.

Berian performed the spell again and again, touching wherever it looked the worst. Between this and the earlier binding, he quickly exhausted himself, but that was fine.

“Better?” he asked.

“...YES.” Alaric looked down at him with a little less apprehension now. “YOU WILL BE SPARED, MAGE.”

“Haha, great!” Berian squeaked. “Just–just like everyone, right?”

“THOSE WERE THE TERMS,” Alaric agreed.

Berian wanted to get those shackles off. He wanted to take Alaric out of here, bring him to the lab. No, the lab wouldn’t be big enough to house him comfortably. Nowhere would. They’d have to build a custom facility, and there was no way he’d get permission for that, much less the funding. He couldn’t so much as let anyone know the state in which he’d left Alaric, or they’d find another caster and find a way to finish the job.

His phone beeped twice.

“I have to go, okay? You just… stay down here for now. I’ll be back soon,” he promised. “I’ll bring you things.”

“BRING ME A SHEEP,” Alaric demanded.

“I’ll bring you a sheep! Sure! And–I’m sorry about this, but if someone finds you, it’s going to be really bad, especially for you. So… be quiet,” Berian ordered.

Alaric did not respond. He couldn’t. His features set back into a glare, but he nodded: he was the one who stood to lose, after all. At least he understood.

Before Berian could think better of it, he leaned in and wrapped his arms around the demon as much as he could manage to. Alaric did not push him away, even though he could have. If anything. Alaric leaned into it slightly.

He stayed like that for a good minute before stepping away. “I’ll protect you. That’s my job.”

Berian raced out toward the entrance, already planning his next visit.

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[thefreakandthehair]

my fiance walked into the kitchen last night to me in a rolling stones tee shirt and sweatpants, glass of wine in hand, bopping around to linkin park while cooking for easter. and it gave me a cute lil idea! enjoy!

It's a strange thing, holidays with a large family.

Eddie and Wayne don't really do Easter, it having been just the two of them for so many years. Sure, Eddie had woken up to baskets with plastic grass of various pastel colors when he was a kid, when Wayne was determined to give Eddie as normal of an upbringing as possible, but they've never had to plan a meal. There've never been assignments, or coordination, or questions like Who's bringing the mashed potatoes? Either Wayne grabs them at the store, or they don’t have them. Easy peasy.

This year is different. Easter 1987 brings friends, family, and a list that looks a lot like a menu on Steve Harrington's refrigerator. Eddie's name is scrawled in Steve's handwriting next to mashed potatoes, which explains why there's a huge pot of water on the stove and five pounds of potatoes glaring at him on Steve's counter. 

It doesn’t take much to convince Steve, who’s lovesick beyond words unbeknownst to Eddie, to let him take over his larger, better-equipped kitchen for the occasion. A simple pout and the fluttering of his eyelashes as he makes his case: "Please, Stevie? Take pity on poor ol' Eddie with his lack of a stand mixer and counterspace?” 

So he finds himself at the counter, music blasting at what feels like a soothing billion and five decibels, cutting potatoes like the cookbook he finds in the clutter of the trailer illustrates and bopping around to Dio’s Holy Diver. He isn’t much of a cook but there’s something comforting about the monotonous repetition of peeling and cutting, and plopping them into the pot of water. Comforting enough, in fact, that he doesn’t feel Steve’s eyes on him from the doorway, watching with a warm, fond smile. 

Steve watches and lets his thoughts drift, just for a moment, to future holidays. Of Memorial Day picnics, and Fourth of July pool parties, of birthdays, and Thanksgivings, and Christmases, and in all of them, every version and every iteration his hysterical, lovesick brain can conjure in that doorway, he wants this. He wants Eddie with wild hair just barely holding onto the elastic tying it back, with sweatpants that show his level of comfort around Steve, that show he can relax and not put on all of the airs he typically does for his look. Shit, he even wants to hear fucking Dio playing in the kitchen from the goddamn garage if it signals Eddie being present. 

He’s not sure when he started moving, but his body pulls him into the kitchen like the magnet holding the menu to the refrigerator door. 

“Hey,” he says, striding up to stand next to Eddie at the counter. “Need some help?” 

Eddie smiles and takes a sip of the beer Steve hasn’t seen until now, another indicator of Eddie making himself right at home. 

“The King assisting the lowly cook here? In the Castle kitchen? I’m honored.” Eddie fakes what Steve assumes is supposed to be a courtesy. He chuckles and hip bumps Eddie when he straightens back out. 

“Oh shut it and scoot over.” Steve’s voice betrays him, too syrupy and sweet to carry any annoyance, and Eddie notices. He turns just slightly, watching as Steve rummages through a drawer for a second knife. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you actually want to spend your morning making mashed potatoes with me, Steve.” 

He’s caught. Steve’s caught, hook, line, and sinker, and something about the genuine curiosity and hope in Eddie’s voice makes that okay. He doesn’t mind being caught when he’s in the safety of this domestic bubble with Eddie, because that’s what it is. It’s safe. 

The first round of potatoes don’t come out well. Their first kiss over the gloppy, gummy potatoes though? That goes perfectly.

[still-a-morosexual-help]

okay so lately I have seen a lot of people claim they hate mammon bc he steals from mc, and like there's nothing wrong with disliking a character lol but I don't recall mammon ever stealing from mc?? like the only thing I can think of is that one time in season 1 I think where he was going through their stuff and said he was looking for something to sell (I think?? it's been a while) and beel straight up calling him a liar lmao l'm just wondered if I missed something? or if this is just newer players who maybe misunderstood that one scene? and I figured if anyone would know it would be you lmao

I got so fucking pissed about this (not at you anon <3) cos this is the third time I got an ask like this, that I scrolled all the way down my 'Obey Me Mammon' tag to June/July 2020 and then slowly scrolled my way up pulling all the receipts I could.....I saw this immediately after you sent it and I just finished now...... turns out it takes 5 straight hours to go through my Mammon tag😶

I have answered this exact same ask twice before and I can only assume it's new people? Like honestly you can't play the game for a long time and still think this (they prove this false within the game in LESSON FOUR)

Not only does Mammon NOT steal from MC, he also:

a.) Gets legitimate/legal jobs whenever he wants to buy MC something (which is pretty frequently)

b.) Shares the money with them when he comes into a large sum of money

But anyway here are the links to the posts talking about all this:

(everything is directly taken from canon or based off canon)

A.) No he doesn't steal from MC

• Full Summary of the Lesson 4 locked chapter where he goes through MC's stuff and a compare and contrast of what we know about Mammon from future lessons, events, devilgrams

• First post talking about this, goes more into detail about him not stealing from them

• Second shorter post about how he doesn't steal from them

• They're literally Partners in Crime

• He straight up refuses the Midas touch (multiple times I believe) after realising it means he won't be able to touch MC anymore

• HEADCANON that maybe he steals/borrows their clothes, with their knowledge, to wear

• In the small introductory manga page they say the thing he likes as much as money is MC

• In S3 he admits to loving MC more than he loves money

B.) He goes out of his way to get MC Presents (which we works actual jobs to earn money for)

• Mammon at the Office Devilgram, where he gets an actual office job so he can buy MC a watch he saw them looking at

• In the Movie Date Devilgram he rents out an entire theatre for the two of them because it was the anniversary of the day they first met

• In the You Always Ride Shotgun Devilgram he rents out a pool for the two of them

• He's always giving MC presents

• Usually he buys matching things for them

• He buys them shoes in their favourite colour

• Mammon's love language

• He wants to share his winnings from a lottery with MC

• He finds a secret second map in the pirate au event and tells only MC so they can share the treasure

C.) It's not just MC, he puts the others before Money too

• In the Presents From Mammon Devilgram he buys presents for everyone

• In The Guardian Demon Devilgram he saves a 9yr old orphaned homeless human girl from a mugger, fosters her and plans to pay for all her needs until she's an adult/can provide for herself - which is why he's always in debt to the three witches who look after her for him, there's also extortion going on from them towards him

• He'd rather lose the entire fortune he won than make Luke upset

• List of times he's put others before money

• He straight up tells Luke he doesn't mind missing out on a reward as long as it means Luke is alright

• Socks for Beel

• He gets a stone for his birthday which can give him whatever he wishes for, he wishes for fortune to come to whoever has the stone and then gives the stone to a student who tried to hurt him

D.) How Mammon works as a character

• Solmare makes you form certain expectations about him and then starts breaking them within the next few lessons and it's amazing to witness

• Friendship, Actions & Reality Vs Calling MC 'Servant'

• Mammon, MC and their Friendship

• Mammon being smart and why he comes off as an idiot

• His thoughts about himself vs MC

• He's actively changing and growing as a character and he knows it

• How Mammon actually views himself

• Why there's a difference in his level of affection in public vs privately

• Jerk with a heart of gold trope but better

• Mammon and how much he cares about consent

• How outsiders see Mammon vs how people from the city see Mammon vs how his close friends and family see him

• Chasing some creep away from MC

• How his relationship with MC changes and grows throughout the season

E.) Other reasons to love him

• Examples of how much he loves MC

• How supportive he & MC are of each other

• Some of his funniest moments

• He's objectively terrifying

• Mammon being a good brother

• He's extremely ride or die for MC

• He waits for MC when they've got to stay late at RAD for other work

• Despite being an ancient being all his best memories consist of the time he's spent with MC

• He created a whole line of toys based around missing MC

• Everything he says about loving MC in his 2022 birthday event

• List of things he's good at

• The amount he loves MC

And this is just a few of my posts about mammon, his character and what there's to love about him

And look it's MORE than okay for people to dislike a character but at least dislike them for something that actually happened?

[kinzis-writing]

Sweet Nothing | Tee Higgins

Summary: Tee and Y/N appreciate the simple pleasures of being together, no matter what the world puts them through.

Pairing: Tee Higgins x Fem! Reader

Requested: Yes | No Based on this request!

Warnings: mentions of hate, private relationship, reader is well-known as well, suggestive content?

Note: I apologize if you did not want the reader to be "famous" or well-know, I just felt it would fit better with what I wrote. I can always re-write if you do not like it, just let me know! 🫶

*Not edited*

Word Count: 3.2k *not including song lyrics*

I spy with my little tired eye, tiny as a firefly A pebble that we picked up last July, down deep inside your pocket, we almost forgot it Does it ever miss Wicklow sometimes?

“Hey, do you need any laundry done? I was going to throw a load in, and I didn’t have a full one.” Y/N asked as she entered the home gym, where the two often worked out together. It was something that they liked to do, but Tee did it for longer and every day, while Y/N only did it twice to three times a week.

Tee thought for a moment, taking a break from lifting weights. “I have that jacket and jeans that I wore on our trip, if you don’t care to throw them in. I’ll get the rest.” He spoke softly sending his girlfriend a thankful smile before getting back to what he was previously doing.

Y/N turned around to go get the outfit that he was talking about. During his offseason, he had taken Y/N on a trip to Ireland because he knew that she had always wanted to go there. It was the best week of Y/N’s life, just being with Tee in the silence and privacy of a nice quiet vacation. They got to bathe in each other’s company and not worry about the media putting their relationship down or fans of either for that matter.

She threw the clothes in the washing machine, but not before cleaning out the pockets of all the clothes. There had been many times when she had accidentally washed money, keys, and so on since she did not check the pockets of clothing items. Everything was clear until she reached the pocket of Tee’s bottoms, she carefully pulled out a small pebble, looking at it in awe before throwing the pair of pants into the machine and starting the cycle.

“Hey, babe!” She called as she made her way to their shared master bedroom of the home. Tee had officially asked her to move in before they left for Ireland, and she had agreed to take that next step in their relationship. She also knew that Tee’s workout was done and that he would be in the bathroom, either showering or had just gotten out of the shower. “I found this in your pant pocket.” She spoke when she walked into the bathroom and showed Tee the small stone in her hand. They probably weren’t supposed to take things from there, but it was a memory and to be honest, both had forgotten that they even brought it home.

A smile grew on Tee’s face as he noticed the little pebble, “from Wicklow?” he questioned even though he knew the answer. “You were so happy that trip, we were so happy and free that trip.” He corrected while thinking back to the best time together. When you two didn’t have to worry about anything but calling your family to assure them that you were okay.

Y/N thought for a moment, “I bet if it was a living breathing thing that it would miss it’s home in Wicklow.” She spoke her thoughts. That was something the two always did with each other, there was rarely secrets, unless it was surprises. “I know I miss it.”

Tee gave her a reassuring smile, “It will get better.”

They said the end is coming, everyone's up to something I find myself running home to your sweet nothings outside, they're pushin and shovin, you're in the kitchen humming All that you ever wanted from was sweet nothing.

A week later, Y/N and Tee were back to their regular schedules. Tee had practice, interviews, and meetings. Y/N had interviews, studio recordings, Teasers to release, and a few other things on her schedule. This day, Y/N had two interviews back-to-back. Except one interviewer had decided to get out of line and ask some rude questions and made some rude comments about her relationship with Tee. Which only led her to go on Instagram and read through the comments on Tee’s and the Bengals newest Instagram posts.

She hated it when he caved and looked at the hate messages, but she needed to find an argument for what the interviewer had said. Yet, it was impossible. Sure, the two had some loyal fans who appreciated them no matter what or who they dated, but most of their fans were jealous of at least one of them. She thought about the interview and the comments the entire drive back to her and Tee’s shared house.

She had cursed herself when she noticed Tee’s car in the driveway, meaning that he had beaten her home. So, there was no way that she was going to be able to pull her “I’m okay” card, seeing as it caught her off guard. She had taken a few deep breaths before grabbing her bag and making her way in the house, she was hoping that he would not hear her come in so she could go calm down for a minute before having to face him.

“Hey, baby!” Tee greeted from the room he was in when he heard the door close and lock. “How was your day?”

One of the many things you loved about Tee was how much he cared about you. He always put your needs before his and you knew that there was no one else better. “Okay, I think I am going to rest a bit.” She muttered hoping that she was monotoned and the proof of crying wasn’t showing.

“Woah,” Tee called when he noticed her walk past the living room but had caught her tone. He read her too well, and he honestly knew her too well to fall for any of her tricks. “Come here, what happened?”

Y/N waved it off. She knew that mentioning what happened today would make Tee feel guilty when he had no control over egotistical hosts and what his fans and Y/N’s haters think, as well as vice versa. “I’m fine, just a rough day.” She assured walking into the living room.

“Talk to me.” He reasoned to try to make her feel better.

Y/N sighed before throwing her purse on the coffee table in the living room and plopping down on the couch beside her boyfriend. “My first interview went fine. The second interviewer was rude.” Y/N explained to Tee as he listened to what her day had consisted of. He knew that she didn’t let things get to her, but when they did, they could be overpowering. “He asked what song I would write when you cheated on me because all professional athletes cheat. He then proceeded to tell me that a relationship between a singer and professional athlete will never work out. I honestly think he booked me on his show just to dog us.”

Tee gave her a sad smile before pulling her into his chest and let her rest there, “You can’t listen to people like him. You are the best woman out there for me, and nothing is ever going to change that.” He assured placing a soft kiss on her head.

“I’m sorry.” Y/N mumbled as her eyes became teary again, “After he got in my head, I looked at Instagram and twitter comments.” She admitted as she wrapped her arm around his abdomen and blinked her tears away. “On twitter, your mom was defending us and you. But it still gets to me sometimes.” Y/N was forever thankful for having a loving relationship with Tee’s mom. Not only for Tee but also for their relationship and everything that his mother had been through. She deserved to be worry free about her son’s relationship and she loved that the two trusted each other.

“I know, baby.” He assured placing another reassuring kiss on her forehead before pulling away a bit. “You still need to know that whatever they say isn’t true. You’re my girl and you always will be.”

With that, Y/N felt herself drifting off into sleep. Her body was exhausted from worrying about the hate and the comments that the couple was getting. Around two hours later, Y/N had woken up by herself on their living room couch, the smell of food and loud humming coming from the kitchen made her smile to herself a bit. Standing up and stretching, she yawned before making her way into their shared kitchen to where he was finishing up dinner. Since they were both on a similar diet, seeing as they supported each other to that extent.

“Good morning, beautiful.” Tee teased when Y/N had walked into the kitchen. Her perfectly curled hair had turned a bit frizzy from where she had fallen asleep on him during their prior conversation. “I finished the house chores and dinner will be done in a minute.”

Y/N gave him a thankful smile, “Thank you, but you didn’t have to do that.” She spoke as she took a seat at the island on one of their bar stools.

Tee shrugged as he held up the box of stuff that he was making, “I used one of those pre-prepped meal kits you buy for us all the time.” He explained before laying the instruction back on the table beside him.

In moments like these, Y/N was so thankful because unlike her other boyfriends, Tee wanted nothing other than her.

On the way home, I wrote a poem You say, "what a mind" this happens all the time.

The next few days had flown by, and the Bengals had just played a game and won, which was why Tee and Y/N were in the car driving back to their place. Joe had ended up having a celebration at his house and the couple had shown up. Y/N didn’t mind, neither of them had been drinking that night and driving at night was calming to her.

“Okay, but what about something like this, “unexpected, this thing we fell into like, so connected. You can at a time when my heart was selective, didn’t have to choose, my love was accepted.” I wanted to get your opinion because I just came up with that idea for a song and- “Y/N trailed off not knowing where she was taking the conversation.

“You want to know what I think?” Tee asked wanting to know if she wanted an honest answer. Y/N nodded willing to take any criticism coming from her boyfriend. “What a mind you have, you came up with that in less than 24 hours and it would be amazing on your next album.”

Y/N was used to Tee’s compliments by now. It happened all the time because he never let her go unnoticed or never forgot to let her know how proud or in love, he was with her. Y/N tried her best to keep up with Tee when it came to assurance to make sure that he knew that he was just as special and important as he tried to make her feel.

“I love you, so very much.” Y/N spoke softly as she interlocked their hands together.

“I love you too.”

Cause they said the end is coming, everyone's up to something I find myself running home to your sweet nothings Outside, they're pushing and shoving You're in the kitchen humming, all that you ever wanted from me was nothing.

A few days later, the couple laid in their shared bed that night just talking. They talked about anything that was on their minds or anything that they felt the other should know. These were the conversations

that Y/N knew the world would say were pointless. Yet, they meant everything to the couple and that was what mattered the most.

“I was thinking…” Tee trailed off making Y/N turn her gaze up to him. She could tell that he was hesitating if he wanted to say what he had originally planned.

Y/N moved her hand up from his bare chest to right under his jaw, while his hand slid down to her mid-forearm. “About?” she urged in a quiet tone to not disrupt the conversation between them.

“Marry me?” He asked quietly that Y/N almost missed what he had said. She looked at him with her mouth parted a bit, not expecting it to come out that easy. “I know it isn’t an ideal proposal and I had a big thing planned out for Christmas but- “

“Yes,” Y/N cut him off making his place his attention on her. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Tee smiled before leaning over and grabbing a small box out of the bedside table. He easily opened it and slipped the diamond ring on Y/N’s left ring finger. Once it was placed, he put the box on the side and pulled her into him. Before pulling her into a kiss and moving to hover over her.

“I love you.” Y/N spoke quietly not to break the intimateness between the two.

“I love you more.” Tee promised before pushing their lips back together so they could spend some quality time celebrating the fact that they had gotten engaged in secret while sharing their sweet nothings that the world would never know about.

The next morning, Y/N had woken up before Tee and decided to cook breakfast for them. As she got the ingredients out for their healthy breakfast, her eyes kept on glancing down at the rock on her finger. It was clear that it cost a pretty penny because of how big it is, Tee had no shame in spending a decent amount of money on designer jewelry, bags, and so on.

While cooking, Tee had gotten up and caught her humming in the kitchen this time. It seemed to be a tune of a song that she was due to record in a couple of days. He knew how her anxiety made her run through the music and the lyrics many times to ensure that she would not mess up when recording.

“Good morning.” He came up behind her and whispered, wrapping his arms around her waist. Setting his head on her shoulder to get a better look at her. “Sleep good?”

Y/N nodded a small smile gracing her face, “Better than normal.” She spoke truthfully. Leaning her head back as she spoke. “How much did this cost?” she asked quietly as she finished up breakfast wrapped in her fiancé’s arms.

Tee shrugged knowing you wouldn’t like the price. He had gotten it custom made when he had noticed you browsing previously, but he always acted like he never paid attention. “Not enough.” He replied instead of giving an actual number for the price.

Y/N placed the food on two separate plates and handed Tee his, to which he thanked her and gave her a kiss on the cheek before going to the table. “I feel like you’re saying that because you know you spent too much.” Tee didn’t reply, but memories about the two of you played through his mind. When you two met, you didn’t even realize that he was more than likely going to be drafted into the NFL. He had been to one of your shows, by accident, seeing as his best friend’s little sister liked her and it was when her career had first started. Ever since you two met, there has been an instant connection. Being friends and then becoming more, Y/N had never wanted anything from him, the same way he didn’t want anything from her.

Industry disruptors and soul deconstructors and smooth-talking hucksters out glad-handing each other and the voices that implore, "You should be doing more" to you, I can admit that I'm just too soft for all of it.

It was almost Christmas time, which was when Tee was going to originally propose. There had been many articles, posts, and even some discussion in a few podcasts if the couple was already engaged. Y/N knew that it was bound to happen when she wore her engagement ring but moved it to the middle finger during interviews. She was in no way embarrassed of Tee or how he proposed, she just wanted to keep the happy moments to themselves for a bit longer. Of course, her closest friends knew and so did Tee’s.

With the rumor of them already being engaged or fixing to be, came a lot more hate this time around. People were realizing that one of their favorite professional athletes was about to be officially off the market, and others were realizing it would be harder for break-up songs to be written. Coming with the hate were also articles and news media discussing how Y/N could never settle down because the listeners of her music would abandon her because of her finally getting a happy ending.

“I don’t think the relationship between Higgins and Y/L/N will last. She’ll need some new songs to write, and he’ll pull stunts that all professional athletes do. They’ll get bored and they’ll both be single. We just hope it’s before they actually tie the knot.” A few guys spoke in the video that Y/N had been tagged multiple times. Some of the comments were defending her, while others were tagging her just to nag about her. It was true that she had surpassed Tee in hate comments recently.

Tee walked in as you shut your phone off. You were too exhausted to cry, but it didn’t hurt any less. Y/N was growing a backbone when it came to her relationship, but it was hard considering she still cared too much about what other people thought. “I don’t understand why I can’t handle hate.” Y/N spoke as Tee took a seat right beside her and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “I guess I’m just too soft for it all.”

Tee placed a gentle kiss on your head, “It gets to everyone sometimes.” He mumbled making sure to give your shoulders a little squeeze. He knew that Y/N had trouble handling hate and he wished there was a way to make everyone treat everyone kindly. Sadly, that would never happen. “the ones that say things like that are unhappy.”

She nodded when he said that knowing he was true. You had to be unhappy yourself to try to tear other people or other relationships down. Along with jealousy being a big problem when it comes to two people being together.

They said the end is coming, everyone's up to something I find myself running home to your sweet nothings Outside, they're push and shoving, you're in the kitchen humming All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing.

Y/N had finally admitted that she was engaged on an Instagram post, on Christmas Day. Many people were saying that Tee had proposed on Christmas Eve or the day that she announced she was engaged. She had decided to let her management take care of her Instagram after her last post, at least until her new album was released. This would give her time away from social media and she had also cancelled every interview that was before her album release. She agreed to still go live on certain socials to engage with her fans but taking a step back from monitoring any comments.

All the hateful words that were being said, were far from Y/N’s mind as she tucked away from her social media’s and stayed off YouTube. Also keeping the tv channels on music or cartoons instead of the news. All this had improved her mental health so much, not being able to see anything unless she wanted to.

“My momma is coming to stay for a few days.” Tee told Y/N as she walked into the Master bedroom where he was putting his laundry away. The little things that help her mentally are always what he did.

Y/N nodded, “Okay. You want me to set up the guest bedroom?” She asked as she went and joined him so they could get the job done quicker and together.

“Already did.” He replied as they both finished the job of their laundry.

It’s the small things that kept their relationship alive. The small gestures, the small touches, the small looks of adoration, the small conversations. The things that people wish, pray, and hope for in a relationship and they both get to have that.

Y/n had come to realize that the world and haters would never understand their relationship. Not the way that they do and even the way their friends see it. Their relationship was full of sweet nothings that the world would never understand. And Y/N was beyond thankful for their sweet nothings, because that was her home and Tee would always be her home.

[cobaltcarbonpotassium420]

lemon sorbet - gojo satoru

content: 1.4k words, gn!reader, can be read as platonic or romantic, wrote this with teenage gojo in mind, gojo is an annoying little shit

author's note: it has been so long!! uni has kept me dead, and the summer weather has continued to keep me dead :/ anyway out of annoyance at the heat and my burning desire for lemon sorbet, i figured i'd write this. also i somehow have a cold... in july... and the boredom is turning my brain to mush so apols for a slightly shite fic, i just needed something to do :p

"is it possible to sweat from the bottom of your feet?" "how would i know? i don't know shit about biology."

the summer heat had never felt so stifling before. in fact, even this wasn't an appropriate way to explain the weather. the heat was suffocating. not a single breeze passed through the town, fans and air conditioning were rendered useless, and even going down to the river in the shade of the trees did nothing since the stones by the riverside had absorbed all of the heat from the summer sun and were probably hot enough to grill food on. as the saying goes though, all clouds have a silver lining. in this case, the silver lining wasn't cute summery outfits, or beach days with friends, or whatever else typical july days offered. instead, the oppressive heat finally gave you an excuse to hang out with the ordinarily (and at times inappropriately) adventurous and spontaneous gojo satoru while doing nothing.

"freezing cubes of tea so the tea doesn't get diluted when the ice melts? that's genius! where did you learn about this?" "uh, the internet? it's kind of an open secret."

on any average day, gojo would have dragged you out to a cafe on the other side of town but even he had no energy left after the heat made it all evaporate from his body. as such, he had no choice but to lay on the cold wooden floor in your room so he could have at least some company. your laptop was in front of you, open to the last page of the dozen tabs you had been scrolling through in your boredom before giving up and deciding to just press your face to the floor in a futile effort to cool down a little more. just next to you gojo was aimlessly flicking through a pile of books, manga, and magazines which he had grabbed from various places around your room. currently, he was skimming the pages of a week-old local newspaper that was on the pile of mail you needed to bin.

"strips in a club, five letters? dollar doesn't fit… maybe paper?"

his questions had started to become a little annoying, but it beat staring under the furniture and wondering how long it had been since you'd moved it out of the way and mopped the floor under it.

"it's bacon. the clue means 'club' as in a 'club sandwich'. they've used that clue before, editor must be getting lazy. maybe they've recycled the whole crossword." "you really think so? okay then, what about poker term, or a mount when read backwards? four letters." "ante. yeah they definitely did this one a while back, sometime late last year i think. i remember solving that clue and thinking how nice it would be to go to italy. maybe try some authentic gelato."

gojo immediately perked up. his previous position had made you wonder for a second if it was possible for a person to melt, but now all of his energy had seemed to be restored in merely the blink of an eye.

"oh that sounds like a good idea! we could go do that now!" "do what, go to italy? for starters, i absolutely don't have the money for a plane ticket. and anyway, if it's so scorching hot here then just imagine how hot italy would be. we're barely hanging on by a thread here, i think we might actually die if we go to italy." gojo's energy was normally infectious, but somewhere between the temperature and humidity it got misdirected and just couldn't reach you.

"nonono, although if you really want to go i'll just pay for the flight." "absolutely not." "fine. but italy wasn't what i meant. i meant we could go get some ice cream from the train station! you know that's where the best ice cream is." "that's a lovely idea and all, but how are we meant to get there? not like we have a car, there's no buses in that direction, and getting a taxi just to the train station seems a little excessive. and they're shit expensive." "we have legs!"

upon hearing those three words, your body finally granted you enough energy to lift yourself up, even if just to support yourself on your elbows for long enough so you could stare gojo right in the eyes before giving him a definitive "fuck no." and slumping back down on the floor.

gojo wasn't one to give up on an idea so quickly though, and upon seeing him sit up and drag himself closer to you so he could try to annoy you into giving in, you simply prayed that there was a benevolent deity which would take pity on you in this state and let this whole ordeal blow over quickly. unfortunately, even the gods were tired from the heat today, and so the discussion had to be dragged out for much longer than you wanted it to.

"please?" "no." "pretty please?" "no." "pretty pretty please?" "no." "pretty pretty please with a cherry on top?" "like the cherry on top of an ice cream sundae?" "yes!" "still no!" "argh! you never want to do anything fun!"

gojo threw himself on top of you, and from his voice you could hear his pout, both actions which you were sure were worthy of an acting accolade, but by this point the heat had exhausted you completely and your eyes were closed which was the only surefire defence against gojo's theatricality.

a few moments passed with neither of you making a move. nothing was said, but you knew gojo's actions were childishly telling you that unless you agreed to his stupid plan then there was no way he was moving.

"if we go then it's my treat, y'know, since i dragged you all the way there."

no response. gojo started drumming his fingers on the floor, thinking up his next course of action, and then his phone screen lit up with a text from geto and presented him with the perfect plan.

"they have lemon sorbet today! i know you love that." he dragged out the word "love" for far too long. he could never understand why that flavour was among your favourites, and ever since he found out he teased you for it constantly. out of all of the delicious, mouthwatering flavours that you could choose from, you chose the most vile, sour flavour nine times out of ten.

"they have lemon sorbet every day." "yeah, but geto just texted me. he said that it's just flying out of the shop today, and they're down to their last two containers."

now this had the potential to change your mind. your interest was piqued, and gojo could see how your facial expression subtly changed from where he was sat.

"you know, they only get deliveries twice a week, and today was their delivery day. that means you'll have to wait at least three whole days until the next time you can savour the taste of their refreshing lemon sorbet." gojo spoke slowly, even more so on those last three words. the gentle lilt of his voice was starting to sound nice, almost as nice as the sorbet he was talking about.

"three whole days?" "yeah, or maybe even longer. you know lemon sorbet is gonna be flying off the shelves right now, and i doubt a tiny ice cream place in the middle of nowhere will be at the top of the suppliers list."

at some point during gojo's very convincing speech, you had sat up without realising it. the gravity of the situation suddenly fell upon you. lemon sorbet was indeed very popular, and the supplier's priority would probably be larger cities with lots of customers.

"you might be right… and the sorbet they sell at the store isn't that good…"

a twinkle appeared in gojo's eyes. he knew he was close. he could practically taste the chocolate chip cookie ice cream he'd get.

"if you want, we can take a tub as well, and ask for a few scoops to take home too."

a moment passed. and then another. gojo scrutinised your facial expression. he watched the way you stared ahead at the wall, and the way your eyebrows slightly furrowed together. you licked your lips ever so slightly, and then took a deep breath.

"fine. we can go." "oh hell yeah!" "you're paying though." "you know what, i'm not feeling it anymore."

[ofstoriesandstardust]

what was i made for?

note: i wrote this piece after seeing the Barbie movie in july and got so enraged by what happened at the golden globes that i just had to finish this. i don't know if anyone will read this but i just wanted to post it. Rebel is my most special girl. (@cottagecori unknowingly came up the ending to this fic)

same mistakes

word count: 1.5k

You squeeze Liam’s shoulder, passing him the ticket. “And what do you say if anyone asks why you’re in there without an adult?” 

“Your stomach was bothering you, so you went to the bathroom.” 

“And?” 

“Then I text you to come back to the theater.” 

“Correct. And?”

“Um…” 

“Not a word of this to your dads, do you understand me?” 

He nods eagerly. 

You hum, letting him go. “Have fun, kid.” 

Liam’s grin is wide as he bounds into the theater across the hall as you sigh. 

Liam had only been with Jake and Javy for about four months now, and already knew exactly how to play you to get what he wanted. 

You weren’t exactly sure who had put their foot down about Liam seeing Oppenheimer, but regardless, Liam’s dads had said no, leaving the boy disappointed. Apparently, his best friend Carter had an older sister who had snuck their whole friend group into Oppenheimer the week before while Liam had been in Savannah with his dads. 

So, when you had suggested seeing a movie today to keep Liam occupied, he’d had a look on his face you just knew you wouldn’t be able to say no to. 

You turn, walking into the theater with your popcorn, sitting down in your chair. 

You glance around the theater as the previews roll, the costumes and bright pink of the people in the room standing out as you snack. 

You’re a little underdressed, it seems. 

-

“The Barbie movie did more for me in two hours than two years of therapy.”

April’s words played in your head as you watched the movie, seemingly doubtful this movie could needle you so much. 

You doubted you’d even cry.

-

Take my hands, close your eyes, now feel. 

The first tear startled you as it slide down your face, not even realizing it was going to happen until your throat closed in on you. 

You got up from the theater as the tears came in succession, warm against your face as you pushed out the doors, out past the concessions stand and into the fresh air of Grossmont Shopping Center, sitting down next to the fountain across from the Cold Stone. 

A little boy stared at you as you broke down in tears, not even really sure why you were crying. 

April had gotten it all right when she said that the movie dually captured the reality of what it was like to be a woman while also the beauty of it too - and you hadn’t anticipated it cutting so deep. 

It was so hard to sit there and watch that montage, to feel the love that emanated from those clips. The way America Ferrieria looked at her character’s daughter with so much love it made your chest physically ache. 

It wasn’t often your Mom’s absence popped up like this, when you had wished so badly to know what it was like to experience a mother’s love. 

Your Dad’s love was enough for you and that was all that mattered to you. 

But sometimes you craved having someone to teach you how to do your make-up, someone to gossip with over a glass of wine, someone to guide you when you didn’t know where else to go. 

The closest you’d ever gotten to a strong maternal figure was Carole, and she was long gone by now. 

God, all you wanted right now was to say to give her one last hug. 

To say thank you for all the unconditional love she had offered you so freely when it came at a cost from everyone else. 

-

Bradley snickers as he rolls over in bed. “Now that it’s just the two of us: did you sneak Liam into Oppenheimer today? Your secret’s safe with me.” 

You glance up at him from where you’re looking at the photo album. “What?” 

He pauses, clearly seeing something on your face as he begins to frown. “Everything okay? You’ve been kind of quiet this evening.” 

You shrug, looking down at the photo album in your hands. He moves, shifting to sit next to you. 

“I miss her.” You say quietly. “I miss her so much B.” You say with a shake of your head, as you feel your throat close up again. “God, I- I wish so badly she was here to tell me what I’m supposed to do now, to help me figure out who I’m supposed to be.” You snap the album shut, sliding it away from you as you tilt your head back, trying to blink away the tears. “God- and I’m- I’m always fucking crying and I never ever mean to and I-” 

Bradley’s hand glides up your thigh to sit on your waist, tugging you towards him. “Honey, what- where is this even- what are you talking about?” 

You sniff, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “I went to go see the Barbie movie today while Liam saw Oppenheimer – don’t give me that look, he was not hiding it well at all – and it just made me- it just made me miss your Mom.” You admit quietly. 

Bradley’s next breath is heavy and shaky as he tightens his grip on you. “I miss her too, you know. Every day.” 

“I wish she was here to tell me what to do now that I don’t know who I am.” The words come out soft as you shrug, looking down at where your fingers intertwine with Bradley’s. “Your Mom - she always had the best advice. And she always knew just what to do next, even when I never saw a way forward. She was so kind- and- and witty and clever. And I- I don’t feel like I am even half of that.” 

“Baby-” 

“And I thought I had my whole life and my identity. I was a Navy pilot, following in the footsteps of the people who raised her and I thought I knew who I was supposed to be and what I was meant to do and even if I wasn’t happy, it was- I don’t know- I’m just- I’m so lost Bradley.” Another tear trickles down your face. “I thought I was Rebel but maybe I’m not her anymore. But without her, I don’t know if I know who I am.” 

It’s silent for a minute, the tears drying out on your face as Bradley sits there with you. 

“I will never be as good as my Mom.” Bradley whispers. “Probably- never half of what she was. But I- I know what she would say if she were here.” 

“Yeah?” You sniffle. 

“You are the most incredible woman I have ever known. You may not see it, but Rebel is only a small part of you. You are the most badass, confident, funny, caring, intelligent woman I've ever known. You are selfless and you care so deeply about all of your friends that they become your family. What you do for work - that isn’t who you are. You’re so much more than that.” 

“But she was who I was for so long - can I ever be anything more?”

“You already are.” He whispers. The tears start again as he looks at you with an almost proud smile. “I’ve been meaning to bring it up to you for a while, thinking about what you might like to do next. You know, one of the reasons I fell in love with you was because of how much you care for others. And I know- I know what the Navy did to you is never going to go away and I am glad you left it behind, especially because those things- they’re ingrained into the culture of that place. But what if- what if there was a way for you to help others? You always say how there wasn’t anybody to help you, but what if you were there to help the girls still in it?”

-

“I’m literally a Ken doll and you didn't even ask me to match with you!” 

Liam’s hiding his giggles behind his fist as Jake stares in horror at Javy’s Halloween costume. 

“Jake-” You say, unable to stop the giggle that escaped at your friend’s reaction to the Halloween costumes you and Javy had picked out after seeing the Barbie movie together back in August. 

The blond turns on you. “I am literally Ryan Gosling Ken and yet you guys are going as Ncuti Ken and Emma Barbie?!” 

“Don’t even bother, Bagman. I already tried and she said that if I dared to bleach my hair like Ryan’s, she’d divorce me.” Bradley pauses next to Jake. “And I kind of think she’s serious. I’m not sure. I’m not in the business of, what did Liam call it? Fucking around and finding out? So couple costumes are out.” 

You give a playful half-shrug. “I mean, the two of you could go as your own pair of Kens. It doesn’t have to be Barbie and Ken. It can just be- the Kens.”

“Bob can be Alan.” Javy supplies, nudging you. “We could do a whole group costume. You can still be Kenough, Jake.” 

Bradley lets out a barking laugh that he ends up coughing down at the glare Jake sends his way. Liam ambles over to you, clinging on to the side of your arm. “I’m sensing a this is my mojo dojo casa house! moment is about to come out.”

[susagnon]

14DaysofMHA - Day 1 (July 23rd): Family, Home, House

I wanted to see more of 1-A's dorm life

Their flatscreen is huge. I would've liked to see them having movie nights in front of it.

Their dining area is huge. I would've liked to see them sharing more meals together.

More dorm parties. Be it to celebrate significant mile stones in their budding careers, or simply seasonal changes.

In general, more of them eating and cooking together.

I would've enjoyed seeing more of 1-A taking care of mundane everyday life tasks, e.g., doing grocery shopping together.

I would've loved to see these kids deep cleaning their dorm together.

More of taking care of each others, in simple, small ways. Like saving someone from bad hygiene or potentially catching a cold, when they're too depressed or exhausted to do those for themselves.

Simply more of 1-A's daily life as normal kids at a boarding school.

("That's an oxymoron. " - a friend of mine, who went to boarding school.)

Yes, Deku.

Yes.

We really could've spent more time on those things:

Horikoshi really should've spent more time on developing his found family theme with all the mundane everyday stuff, that actually turns a house into a home.

It would not have been just okay.

It would have been awesome.

[crowandmousewritingco]

Rest for Tomorrow

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x gn!reader (Ellaria is mentioned to be involved.)

Word Count: 1.3k

Rating G (It Oberyn so there is some suggestive flirting)

Summary: After injuring yourself in a stupid accident has you bored, Oberyn finds you out of bed and isn't happy.

Author: Mod Mouse

Notes: This fic was once again inspired by the July prompt list from @thepromptfoundry specifically #18 rest. Thank you again for the great list!

You couldn’t believe it. All you did was take a walk in the water gardens enjoying a nice sunny day after the days of rain that was this past week. But one of the stones had the audacity to be wetter than the other which made you slip face first into the sidewalk. Luckily most of you were okay, but when you tried to stand you felt this pain in your ankle. You tried to walk back to the castle having had twisted ankles in the past, but you couldn’t make it more than a few steps before the pain was too much. Eventually you had to call a guard to get Prince Oberyn . When he saw your condition, he quickly went into protective mode and scooped you up in his arms. He told the same guard to get a Maester and took you back up to your shared room. 

After a thorough examination, the Maester determined that you had sprained your ankle pretty badly meaning you were told that you must stay in bed rest in order for your ankle to heal properly. And boy did Oberyn stick to that like glue. You weren’t allowed to get anything for yourself. Need a glass of wine? Oberyn brought you the best Dornish wine he had. Wanted the next volume from the library? Oberyn had the whole series on your bedside table. You were appreciative of his care, but you were finding it to be a bit overbearing. 

So that’s where you found yourself staring up at the ceiling for the umpteenth time today, and you were bored. Oberyn was reluctantly busy all day and Ellaria was visiting family until the end of the week. It was just you and your thoughts and after reading every book Oberyn brought for you and counting every object in your room, you had had enough. It was a dichotomy of your past several days, and you were motivated to change that. Determined you sat up in bed and stood up on your good foot. 

With the help of the bedpost you stood shakily on your good feet. You paused to see if you were steady enough, and when you determined you were, you shuffled across the room. Using any sturdy surface you could to aid your journey, you finally made it to the open doors to the garden. The warm Dornish breeze grazed your skin and you smiled. You had missed the sun and the warmth the outside could give you. Ever since you arrived here from your dreary hometown, you refused to stay inside for long periods of time. 

Slowly you worked your way down the short path to the bench outside your bedroom and settled yourself down with a sigh. You never realized how tiring walking could be. Leaning back you closed your eyes and let the sun warm your face.

You were enjoying your blissful moment of quiet, when an all too familiar voice spoke from behind. “It seems my dove has sprung from its supposed resting place.”

Your eyes pop open and you quickly turn to see Oberyn standing behind you. He had a deep scowl on his face that only meant trouble for you. His strong arms were crossed over his broad chest, and he tapped a finger against his arm like he was a teacher fed up with a disruptive student.

“Oh um hi my viper. What seems to bring you here to the lovely gardens?” You ask, trying to keep your voice steady. You knew you were in trouble the moment Oberyn saw you, but you were determined to not make his presence stop you. 

He raises an eyebrow at you. “As much as I love it when you tease me, this is not a matter of amusement. Now it's off to bed with you or I shall treat you like a petulant child and send you to sleep with no super.”

“But please, just a bit longer. I just…” You started but trailed off. Your prior determination quickly waning when you saw how worried he was. 

“Just what, my sweet?” Oberyn asked, sitting down next to you on the bench. 

“I’m just so bored. I’ve read all the books in the library. My fingers can only take so much beadwork before they lose feeling. And if you are so curious there are 450 floor tiles, 20 golden chalices, and a handful of poison daggers.” You huffed crossing your arms. 

Oberyn chuckled a little at your exasperation. “So that’s what has my star all riled up. My sweet you are bored.” 

“You’re telling me,” You crossed your arms over your chest. “I’m alone half the time, and when I’m not alone I can’t do anything by myself I appreciate the care I really do, but I can’t sit around all day.” You paused and looked up at your paramore. “I just want to be healed.” 

He smiled kindly and kissed your temple. “I understand that my dove. Remember when you and Ellaria were caring for me after my fight with the Mountain?” 

You nod though those were unpleasant memories. The fight, the amount of blood Oberyn lost. You both weren’t sure he was going to make it through the night. But your Prince never broke his promises and the next day his cocky attitude returned and you sighed in relief knowing he was okay. 

“Of course I remember that time,” You replied, taking his hand in yours. Your thumb grazes over the many battle scars that littered his tan skin. 

“Then you remember the time I snuck up to enjoy the local tavern one night,” Oberyn asked, tilting his head slightly.

You groan as the memory returned. Ellaria and you were worried sick when they didn’t find you in their bed one night. You searched the castle high and low concerned that someone had followed you to finish the Mountain’s job. It was only when the head guard alerted you that he saw him head into town did your anxiety turn to anger. The two of you rushed down to his favorite tavern where he was drinking ale like it was just a normal day. You and Ellaria gave him glares that could melt ice as you dragged him back to the castle.

“Yes I remember that,” You responded

“Then you remember when I said that I did it because I was bored,” He said, bringing your hand to his mouth giving it a soft kiss. 

Your brain connected the dots, and you chuckled. “We really aren’t that different are we?” 

He smiled and kissed your hand again. “We really aren’t.” He paused gently, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. “I know that rest isn’t the most exciting of activities but you have to let that body of yours heal. That way we can continue our hedonistic endeavors. And you know how important I find your body,” He chuckled, leaning over to give you neck a kiss. 

Your prince’s face softened and gently cupped your cheek in your hand. You teared up a little at his kindness. “I’m sorry I really didn’t mean to cause trouble.” 

“Shhh my paramore no tears today.” He softly kissed each tear away with a press of his lips to your skin. “I know you meant no harm, but putting any pressure on your foot could make it worse.” 

“Can we at least stay out here for a bit longer?” You asked kindly. 

“Anything for my star.” The pair of you stayed under the Dornish sun for as long as you could. You both took in the sun feeling the warmth hit your skin. Though the sun relaxed you so much that your eyes started to droop. Noticing your head bob, Oberyn smiled and gently took you into his arms, taking you back to your shared bedroom. As gentle as handling a priceless artifact, he set you down making sure your leg was elevated. He slid in next to you pressing his body into your side. You nuzzled your face into his neck and soon you found yourself falling asleep. Tomorrow was another day of recovery with your paramore, and one more day closer to returning to your adventure filled days in Dorne. 

-------

Pedro Character Taglist

@littlemisspascal @burntheedges

[laurolive]

Paul and Linda, a collection of PDAs: Part 1 - A Million Kisses

In our walk down the memory lane of Paul and Linda’s love story, which still captivates the romantics and the 60s-70s music lovers out there, we start with an excerpt of an interview.

Rolling Stone cover June 17, 1976: “Yesterday, Today, and Paul.” In this interview, Paul says something interesting:

I mean, I kissed Linda onstage the other night, and for me, that’s kind of, ‘Wow, I must be getting real relaxed,’ ’cause I can’t do that in public, normally. I’m a bit kinda shy.

Paul McCartney shy about showing affection? Well, artists are certainly a different breed. He can sing a heartfelt love song in a venue full of people, but has to work up the courage to give his wife a little kiss? As photos will tell, he soon got over that quirk.

And even before this RS interview, he could certainly be demonstrative when a photographer or videographer was around, whereas the average person would be more guarded knowing that their tender moment would soon be out there as a picture in a magazine or a video clip on TV (we’re talking pre-internet days here).

RS Interview from The Paul McCartney Project

The 1970s: Not Exactly in Public, but There Must Be Someone Holding The Camera

1970 or 1971. Aww, so sweet.

June 1971 The video for the song “Heart of The Country” was made in Scotland. Is that a kiss? We might have to examine the still pic below. 

June 1971 A still image from the “Heart of The Country” video. I’ll count this as a kiss.

1974 In the garden of their house with baby Stella between them. It’s a published pic, so I’m counting it as a public kiss. (An “almost-kiss” but close enough.)

1974 Photoshoot for the Apr. 7, 1974, issue of New York News magazine. The cover story was "Just an Old Fashioned Beatle: An Exclusive Visit with Linda and Paul McCartney." Aww, lips softly touching the cheek is something I’m going to classify as a kiss.

Magazine article: @johnflyons.beatles on instagram

Post-1970s: Now We’re Really in Public

Sept. 21, 1982, at Linda's first photography exhibition in London. Photo © Robert Rosen. Rosen talks about the snap in this excerpt from an interview with I-D magazine:

What's one photo you're really proud of? Robert Rosen: I love the shot of Paul and Linda McCartney kissing. As soon as I had it developed I just thought, wow, I did that. I sent them a print but didn't hear anything more until a few months later, when, Paul and Linda turned up to a gallery event I happened to be at. At one point, Linda tapped me on the shoulder and said, 'Are you ignoring us?' She gave me a big hug and told me they loved the photo. That obviously meant a great deal to me.

From The Guardian archive, 21 September 1982: First London exhibition for Linda McCartney

I-D Interview with Robert Rosen Sept. 20, 2017

November 26, 1982, in Paris, France during photography month. An exhibition of Linda’s photographs was part of the event. Okay, his lips are just grazing her hair, so I’m going to call this a “hair kiss.”

Feb. 8, 1983 The 1983 British Record Industry Awards. Paul gets a congratulatory kiss from Linda after winning the 1982 British Male Solo Artist award and the Sony Trophy Award For Technical Excellence. The Beatles won the Outstanding Contribution to Music award.

More pics: The Paul McCartney Project

The same 1983 British Record Industry Awards. Two kisses in one night! Paul can’t hide his surprise.

Nov. 28, 1984 Another congratulatory kiss from Linda as Paul is presented with the Roll of Honorary Freedom of the City of Liverpool.

October 16, 1986 British Video Awards at Grosvenor House Hotel, London.

Rupert and The Frog Song awarded the Best Selling Video of 1985

April 4, 1989 Ivor Novello Awards at The Grosvenor House Hotel. Paul wins, Linda gets a kiss (so they both win 😊).

July 29, 1990 Backstage during the Paul McCartney World Tour 89/90 at Soldier Field Chicago. Linda is bidding farewell to Paul as she heads for the dressing room and he to the press tent.

From I Saw Him Standing There, Jorie B. Gracen, 2000. @thebeatlesofoz2 on Instagram

April 27, 1994 Press Conference for Linda's Home Style Cooking at Beverly Wilshire Hotel in Beverly Hills, California. Paul comes out to endorse Linda’s book, and greets her with a kiss.

Video clip of Paul’s entrance from CelebrityFootage.com

1997 from the video for the song “The World Tonight”

1997 A kiss in the studio, from the documentary In The World Tonight.

Let’s see the whole sequence of that kiss, right from the beginning:

Bonus: Wedding Kisses March 12, 1969

You go Linda! Give your groom a kiss like the cameras aren’t around.

Everyone’s relationship dream: Get someone to look at you the way Linda looks at Paul here.