#Impact Drill for Home

[horsescary]

the first rule of power tool safety is to have fun and be urself

[nisuna]

I'm baaackk ha ha ㅠㅠ I just got really inspired soo...here we go!

my first multi-jjk men-mega-drabble huhuhu

I didn't include their names specifically in each drabble in case you want to think of someone else maybe :^) these are just some of my headcannons!

puuuuhh I usually write all of my stuff in one sitting, but I actually wrote this over the span of a few days the brain juices were flowing I really got into it, they turned out way longer than I anticipated, but anyway without further ado hope you enjoy

-characters aged up as needed we know the drill-

TW: dacryphilia, degradation, name calling/pet names, bitch, slut, good girl, honey, sweetheart, babe, baby, blowjob, a smidge of angst, comfort, impact play, oral m&f receiving, doggy, mating press, multiple positions, riding, missionary, choking, safe words, overstimulation, lmk if I forgot anything!!

♡featuring: toji, geto, gojo, choso, nanami, yuji, megumi♡

♡masterlist♡

----------------strictly 18+; MDNI------------------

JJk Men making you cry during Sex

fushiguro toji

"Dumb bitch, can't even suck my cock right.", he scoffed and pulled your hair even tighter.

Endure it. Whats up with you today you're usually so into this, but today his words were hitting too close to home. You could feel tears gather and saliva drip onto your sore thighs.

"Damn are you crying? Are you serious?", he laughed. "Does sucking my cock get you off so much? Here take this."

He pulls your face flush against his stomach, with too much force making you gag and shut your eyes.

You tapped his thighs three times ending it with a scratch, your safe word.

"Oh fuck I-"

He cussed before you let out a deep sob covering your face with your shaking hands. You felt so embarassed, runny nose and saliva dripping down your chin.

"Shit, come here." he reached out to you, but you pulled away as soon as his fingers grazed your shoulders. your throat was burning, voice hoarse while you continued crying.

"Y/N."

Hearing your name snapped you out of your distraught state, finally looking at him. He was sitting across from you, one arm spread out while the other was patting his lap signalling for you to come and sit on it. You took a few deep breaths, wiping your face and finally allowing yourself to fall in his embrace.

"Was that too much?"

"I've just been really stressed lately, I thought this would take my mind off of things but i guess I made it worse.", you sighed.

You distracted yourself with playing with his rough palm and thick finders while he continued.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I dunno...", you trailed off when he interlocked your fingers

"Hey, look at me.", he pulled your chin up. "I know I'm usually pretty mean and strict, but I'm not a monster, you know. You can tell me stuff like that. I don't mind vanilla once in a while.", he smirked down at you

"Pft!", was what left your mouth before you elbowed him. "That's good to know. I just didn't want to look weak and sensitive in front of you..."

"That's nothing new you know? I know that in comparison to me you're way- OW"

"Alright, alright mister that's enough. You've cheered me up, don't push it.", you grimaced while pulling his cheeks.

"Yesh, ma'am.", he grinned,bringing his hand to his forehead in a salute.

You let out a sigh. "Just shut up and hold me a bit more.... ", you said while nuzzling your face in his neck

He didn't say another word and just kissed the top of your head, wrapping his strong arms around you.

You got to see a new side to your boyfriend today and it wasn't half bad. You could get used to this soft and caring persona of his.

geto suguru

He's been going at it for what feels like hours. He has eaten you out in every position imaginable. From face sitting to eating you out fron the back he's done it all today. But right now he had you spread out on the bed with your legs draped over his broad shoulders. The way his eyes were eating you up, had you constantly squirm away. The hand that was splayed over your tummy kept you in place, however. Between thrusting his fingers he kept littering your sensitive thighs with bites and sucks.

You were huffing his name, hair sticking to your sweaty forehead. You looked incredibly attractive to him, the way you were offering your whole body to him. He was getting off to that as much as you were getting off on his tongue and fingers.

Each orgasm that washed over you felt more intense than the previous one. As you were nearing the nth one this night you began smooshing your cunt into his face more aggressively and pulling his hair making him groan. Your squishy thighs felt heavenly around his head and he thought that getting smothered to death would be a fine way to go.

You were starting to sob, tears collecting at your cheeks, making him look up at you. When he was about to pull away and ask if you were okay you pulled him back against you.

"I said don't stop fuuuck!", you whined.

Eyes teary lips bitten swollen, you looked so messy and he knew that making you cry was his new kink. So he just smirked, licked his lips and finger fucked you through another orgasm.

"Fuck fuck fuck!!", your eyes shot open.

When he pulled away he grinned with his tongue sticking out. "Don't worry, we'll he here all night, sweetheart. Cum as much as you want.", he whispered biting along your thigh and kissing your ankle.

gojo satoru

When you first suggested role play he was oddly enthusiastic about it. He became hesitant when you mentioned spanking.

"Wait, babe, are you sure about that?"

"I can take it, you're not that strong.", you rolled your eyes. "And be as nasty and mean as you can. You can do that for me right, big boy?"

"Don't come crying to me later, missy."

The start was good you were taking your punishment well. He was pounding away from behind, pulling your hair in between mean spanks to your reddening cheeks. You were challenging him between every thrust and spank. He was getting ded up with you but tried to stay composed.

"That's all you got?", you mocked. Now he's had it, So he started hitting your thighs and going inwards.

"Wait hold on what are you-? Ah-", you yelped shortly after earning yourself a mean slap to your pussy for all the mockery.

"What's up princess? All that big talk just to look this pathetic.", his words were getting to you way more than you had expected.

"We din't talk about this, asshole ow-", you tried to stay strong.

"Just shut up and take it."

Those words broke the dam and your tears came spilling from your eyes and onto the pillows beneath you. At first he didn't realise those were bad tears as he teased you, "You cryin? C'mon big girls dont cry,? he thought it was part of your role play so he landed another harsh slap on your ass cheek, it stung and you lost it.

"STOP fuck no more...please. I get it. I give up."

"Babe are you alright? Shit. Hey, hey, c'mere.", he turned you around, holding you up by the waist.

As he was wiping away your tears he spoke, "Now that we know you can't handle much. How about a safe word for the future? Maybe purple, hm?"

You didn't like his tone so you pulled his ear

"Aaahhh purple purple", he giggled.

"No, it'll lose meaning if you just say it like that. And just so you know, I'm not weak, you're just way too strong.", you shot him a glare.

"Sorry sorry.", he put his arms up in defeat. After a few soft kisses and hugs he spoke up again.

"Have you calmed down? Wanna go again?", he dared to ask wiggling his eyebrows, which only earned him a slap across his chest

"PURPLE!" he panicked.

"SHUT UP!!!"

choso kamo

From the first time he got to hug you he became painfully aware of the obvious size difference between the two of you. And since then he became deathly afraid of accidentally hurting you. He always tried to controll his strength around you, especially during sex when he bends you however he pleases and pushed you into positions you didn't know you could assume.

He was a gentle giant, however, so imagine his shock when you suggested that he should hurt you on purpose. You know, be a little mean play rough.

"Are you out of your mind?"

"Pleeaasee, I know you're always holding back I wanna know how strong you really are.", you purred, sliding a finger across his clothed chest.

"I can't be mean to you.", he dead panned.

"Why not? You're mean to people all the time.", you blinked up at him.

Well, I actually care about you.", he thought to himself but soon gave in to your begging.

Fine, I'll try. But tell me if it gets too much.

"Yaay!! Thanks.", you stood on your tippie toes to peck his cheek.

That's how you found yourself riding him like there was no tomorrow. His cock was hitting you so deliciously deep you were starting to lose your mind. The slaps you asked to give you across your face were lighter than you'd like but beggars can't be choosers. And when he first spanked you, you could feel tears sting your eyes.

He took notice and slowed down his pace.

"Nooo mmh I like it, please, you shook your head, desperately rolling your hips into him.

"Baby look at me? You're crying!! Does it hurt, let's stop, c'mon."

"No not at all, i love it...it feel so ah good. I can feel you all the way up here. Mmh don't stop.", you mewled while pulling his hand to press against your tummy.

Fuck the sight of your pink cheeks and teary eyes did turn him on. It was making him crazy actually.

"Fuck, you have to take responsibility for being so fucking hot.", he growled and you received your long awaited hard spanks.

"Yes, hit me some more, please<3", he swore he saw hearts in your eyes. "Be mean, call me names."

"You slut...", he tried and that had your toes curl and eyes roll back

"Yeah, I'm your fucking slut, just for you. Give it to me more.", you pulled his hand to your mouth to suck on his thick fingers. After placing them on your tits he gave tem a few pinches before grabbing handfulls of your ass. Meanwhile you pressed your chest against his face, essentially drowning him in your swollen tits. You swore you came one step closer to heaven with each thrust against your cervix.

nanami kento

You were currently folded in half with your husband thrusting away at your cunt. You two were practically sticking to each other at this point. He lifted your hips up, putting your feet on his shoulders and holding your legs in place with a strong arm. The new angle made you see stars. After a few thrusts he brought his thick fingers to your swollen clit. The speed of his hips was brutal and the circles he was rubbing with his fingers felt almost painful.

"Wait if you keep that up I'm gonna- oh fuck", you gasped eyes blown wide open.

"Well, that's the whole point honey.", he mused kissing your ankle.

As he continued his ministrations you came with a loud sob, shaking when he kept playing with your clit.

"Shit, no more pleaseee", you tried grabbing his hand, tears collecting at the corners of your eyes.

He only stopped when he saw you cover your face with shaky hands. That was when he finally set your legs down and kissed your hands

"Hey, don't hide. Look at me."

"N-no, I don't want you to see me in such a pathetic state", you cried and tried to squirm away from his burning gaze.

You heard a low chuckle rumble through his chest before he grabbed your hands with one of his, pinning them above your head. He leaned down and caught your lips in a hungry kiss.

"How could you ever look pathetic to me. Do you understand how perfect you look beneath me, hm?" I know that you want to go again.", he mused kissing away your tears abd letting go of your hands.

You gave him a weak nod, slinging your arms around his neck and pulling him close.

"Don't worry. This time I'll make you feel even better.", he whispered against your neck before starting to roll his hips into you once more.

itadori yuji

Earlier he was boasting to you that he has been researching how to choke someone the right way. And at first it felt just right, but once he got more and more into snapping his hips into you, low groans leaving his lips, his grip changed. Instead of light pressure that was making your head spin just right, he was almost completely cutting off your airway now.

You tried to adjust in his grip in between high pitched moans and mewls leaving your mouth at how he bullied himself inside you. But to no avail, he just added a second hand. Once you were getting dizzy you tried to mutter your safe word.

"Pine-"

"Pain? You like that, huh? Wow baby I don't now you were such a masochist."

He squeezed you even harder. Your eyes shot open, tears spilling out as you clawed at this firm hand around your neck. You could barely talk.

"PINEAPPLE!", you finally managed to shriek.

His hips immediately came to a halt, pulling out and detaching his huge palms from your neck. he could clearly see the red fingerprints he left behind

"Baby! My god, I'm so sorry are you okay-?"

A loud cough left your mouth, shutting him up. You took a few deep breaths, panic written all over your face and you tried to smooth over the sore area. At first you didn't even notice the tears that kept falling from your eyes, you were to focused to catch your breath again.

He was shocked and so disappointed in himself. He actually hurt you even after all his research.

When you continued to rub your neck, small "ows" left your mouth and that snapped him out of it. He laid down and reached his arms out. you immediately fell into his embrace.

"Sh sh its okay you're safe I'm so sorry", he reassured while gently stroking your hair. You were still shaking but your breathing soon evened out. Your ear was pressed against his chest and you could hear his heart hammering like crazy. A stark contrast to his composed, soothing voice. Must've been shocking to him as well, you thought to yourself before speaking up.

"Yes I'm fine, thank you.", you looked up and pecked his lips.

"Let's never do this again.", he mumbled while squeezing you flush against him.

"No, I did like it at first. You just have to be more careful next time. And please just stick to one hand. One is plenty, you're too strong for your own good.", you chuckled while rubbing your nose against his.

He just hummed and kissed your forehead.

"C'mon, let's get you cleaned up.", he said while sitting up pulling you with him. Before he stood up he grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles with a soft smile on his face.

fushiguro megumi

You've been dating for a few months now, but the furthest you have gone was a few gentle pecks and light groping. Each time you wanted to take things further, he found an excuse. Until the day came that he invited you over to his.

You were sat on his lap on his bed across while he licked at lour neck and groped your tits. His cock was hitting your cervix with every squirm of your hips. He told you to stay still but it was growing increasingly difficult with each teasing motion.

It was when he moved one of his hands from your breast down to between your legs, that you felt tears swell up.

"What's wrong? You don't like it?"

"No, I love it. It's just I've liked you so much for such a long time. I'm just so happy right now, so don't mind me.", you mumbled, squeezing your eyes together.

"You're so wet for me baby. Do my fingers feel that good hm? Just look at yourself in the mirror."

"Mmh noo it's embarassing", you whined as his fingers sped up.

"Do it for me. Now."

How could you say no to him, when he spoke with that tone and with how his fingers were working wonders. So you reluctantly opened your eyes and saw him staring right back at you.

"Atta girl.", and with those words he began rocking you up and down on his lap. You were so loud and expressive, he loved every second of it.

"Good girl, tell me, who's fucking you so good right now?

"Mmhh, you do. Ah, so good, please don't stop."

Instead of speeding up he pushed your hips down keeping you in place and making you sob. "Beg some more", he huffed while he licked up your neck and dug his teeth into your shoulder.

--------

Thank you for reading I hope you enjoyed, I'd love to hear your thoughts!!<3 Hmu if you have any suggestions for future fics 🙆🏻‍♀️ much love as always MWAH♡

[hoshigray]

Repeat that for Daddy...

Okay, walk with me on this one: you and Toji are lying on the bed enjoying the acts of "coupling", and you accidentally call him "daddy"? Obviously, it was a slip-up in the heat of the moment, but unfortunately, it's Toji. He won't stop until you say what you just said.

A/n: I'm totally not writing this to compensate for the fact I haven't posted pt ii of the assassin duo toji x reader drabble yet :) Which tysm for 500+ notes btw!!! Please enjoy this while I finish that fic for y'all~~

Cw: dom! Toji x fem! reader - fingering (fem! receiving) - daddy kink (it's an awakening for Toji) - pet names (baby, darlin', good girl, mama, sweetheart, sweetie) - praise - clitoral play (Toji pinches your clit bc he's a bastard) - pussy slaps (2x) - a bit of comedy.

Wc: 893

One of Toji's favorite things to do when you two are relaxing in the confines of your home is cuddling with you. It was a foreign thing you introduced to him in the early stages of your relationship, but now he likes to do it when the chance is present.

Having your body close to him tells him that you see him as a dependable figure and that you feel safe in his presence. Which he cherishes deeply. And it's a guilty pleasure when you let him have his hands roam your body.

And it's even more of a guilty pleasure when you let him play with your pussy.

The lewd sounds of Toji's fingers messing with your pussy and your ecstatic moans fill the bedroom, the television volume stationed low so he can focus on your face and expressions.

"Mmmm, Toji, A-Ahhh!."

He's lying on his side with his head resting on his hand, facing your squirming body with his forefinger and middle finger in your slit. You lay on your back next to him, gripping his shirt to the point his midriff shows.

"I'm here, baby," Toji kisses your forehead, trailing down to your neck and shoulder. "I'm right here."

He loves it when you're like this, being in this intimate space where you trust him to do as he pleases with your body. He wants to listen to your mewls and gasps because they're the sweetest sounds he's ever heard. Your watery, half-lidded eyes look up at him, the man who makes you appear so disarranged with his touch.

Toji loves moments like this, loves being with you, loves you.

"Feelin' good, darlin'?" He asks, kissing your collarbone where he'll definitely leave a mark for you to find later on. "You're doin' so well fr' me."

"Haaaaah, yes, yesss," you hiss, biting your bottom lip when Toji's thumb faintly brushes on your clit. His thick fingers scrape the velvety walls of your cunt at a lovingly slow pace that has you inching toward a climax.

"Oh God, Tojiii, I'm going to— Ahaaa!!" You're so close to coming, almost there. "I wanna cum on your fingers, Daddy..."

Toji's kisses are halted, his fingers freeze inside your slick-coated vulva, and even you stay still with wide eyes staring up at the bedroom ceiling. White noise from the television substitutes the silence.

Toji brings his face up to look at you, and your eyes move to the side, trying to find anything to look at except the deep forest green eyes drilling into your face.

"What did you say, sweetie?"

You act innocent. "Huh?"

Toji smirks. "If you can 'huh,' you can hear. You said somethin'. What did you say?

"Uhh, I said I wanna chow on some chicken fingers, darling."

"That's not what you said. And we ate two hours ago."

"T-True!" You squeak, squeezing around Toji"s digits. He raises a brow, his smirk still confidently plastered on his face. "But I know how much you have a big appetite, and who can say no to dinosaur-shaped nugge- Eyyaaah!!!"

It happened so quickly; Toji's fingers exit your tight opening and pinch your clitoris, applying pressure between his thumb and forefinger. The abrupt action has you screaming, and all Toji does is snicker.

"Don't play with me, sweetheart," he says to your ear in his guttural tone. A hearty laugh seethes through his lips when you jerk up from the impact of his hand slapping your pussy. You shed a single tear, and Toji snaps a mental picture. Another slap, another cry. "What's my new name, baby?"

"D-Daddy!!" You swallow the drool pooling in your mouth before choking on it. Pain stinging on the poor swollen lips of your vagina from the cruel treatment, your mind feels foggy. The feeling of regret clouds your thoughts, wondering why you let that word out. And worse, giving the title to a man with an ego bigger than anyone you've ever known. I should've kept my mouth shut...

But you can't deny the puddle that's leaking through your cunt.

Toji grins hard, his scar rooted upwards for his teeth to flash with the light coming from the TV. "Good girl." His fingers snake back into your folds, and you whimper into his touch as his digits go faster than before. "Can you call me that again, mama?"

"Mmmph!! Daddyyy, too fast, 's too fa— Oohhh!!" You grip his shirt again, finding support close to him. Your pants and breathing feel so heavy you nearly choke.

"Gonna cum, baby?" You nod rapidly. He loves when you're desperate. "Go ahead, cum on Daddy, darlin'." His thumb then moves directly to your clit, pushing and grinding down on it, and that was it for you.

You cream around his fingers, walls clenching down on him as your legs wobble in ecstasy. Tears stream down your eyes as you finish your orgasm.

Toji's fingers finally withdraw once your spasm ends, and strings of your fluids stick to him like honey. "Good job, mama," he puts the fingers in his mouth and licks them, deep groans as he's sucking in your essence. He then kisses your lips, giving you a taste of yourself as you exchange tongues.

Toji departs from your plump lips, cocking his head with a small smile. "You outta call me that more often, starting to like it."

[starkidmunson]

glitter & crimson (it has a title y'all!)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Nervous excitement has Steve out of his bed 25 minutes before his alarm goes off to wake him. It’s not unusual on game days. He gathers ingredients in the kitchen until he hears Robin’s alarm, and then he starts making both their breakfast smoothies.

She fumbles down the hallway a few moments later with her eyes still closed, takes the cup from him, and sits in the middle of their living room floor.

“Pilates today? Or did you get a workout in at the show last night?” She asks after a few sips, and Steve joins her near their mats.

“It’s a tradition, can’t go changing shit now.” He teases, laughing as she throws her head back with a tired groan. Then she’s hauling herself to her bedroom to grab a hoodie.

They exercise on the balcony, like always, but keep it light. Steve tries to get plenty of stretching in on game days, making sure he’s loose and limber before he hits the ice. After about 30 minutes, Robin’s teeth are chattering in the cool morning air, so he calls it, and they head back inside. He gathers his gear while Robin showers, and then they make their way to United.

Steve heads to the locker room to gear up, manages to finish a whole bottle of water before he hits the rink. He takes a few slow laps around the rink as the rest of the team starts to roll in, runs through a few drills on his own before team practice starts.

They keep things minimal on game days; sprints and passes, shots on goal. Steve does a final lap backwards around the rink, before clearing off to the locker room to finish putting on his uniform while the other team takes the ice for their own practice. 

As he refills his water bottle, he gets whacked in the shin with the body of a hockey stick. He watches it happen, feels an echo of the impact on his shin guard, before turning to raise an eyebrow at Max.

“Hello to you, too.” He says through a little smile. She rolls her eyes, but smiles back at him.

“They’re here.” She says, in an ominous tone, despite her smile. “You guys seemed to hit it off last night, I’m glad you didn’t scare him away with your weirdness.” 

“I’m not weird, you guys are weird.” He mumbles back, kicking the stick from her hand but catching it before it hits the ground. “Last night was fun. I just hope he doesn’t hate the game as much as I think he’s going to.”

“Awfully concerned about him having a good time.” She leans in closer to him to tease, and while he feels his ears get hot, he shoves the hockey stick back into her arms and walks back toward his locker. “Dustin is working in the AV booth tonight, so be prepared for a lot of Eddie on the big screen.”

“You overestimate how much attention I pay to the overhead.” He replies, rolling his eyes and taking a big gulp of water. 

He hadn’t exactly considered the consequences of Eddie actually coming to the game. He was bound to draw a lot of attention, but what would that turn into? Steve had, smartly, elected to stay off the internet after he’d gotten home last night, and he hadn’t bothered to check social media before coming in. He was sure there were pictures and videos of him at the show floating around, insinuating things beyond what they actually meant. He was just as sure that there was at least one person who had taken to their feeds to report that Eddie and Steve had hung out after the show; never mind the fact that everyone else was there. Never mind the fact that they weren’t alone. 

Except they had spent most of the night alone. Other than a few interruptions, their time at Fatpour had mostly consisted of Eddie and Steve sitting at a high-top table close to the bar, munching on snacks and talking about everything and nothing and whatever crossed their minds. Eddie insisted he was going to make a playlist for Steve, and Steve offered to teach Eddie how to ice skate. And it felt… nice. It had been a while since Steve had that with anyone.

Max just moves on, reminding Steve of which stretches he needs to do now that he’s in his gear, and the coach and captain both give speeches in the locker room, before everyone moves out to the rink. They take the ice as the announcer reads off their name, and Steve taps his stick with the right wing who stakes up next to him.

He glances around, chewing on his mouth guard absently. A part of him knows that Robin and Eddie and whoever else from CC made the trip to the game are in one of the boxes around the upper level of the area, but he hadn’t asked which one when he had briefly texted with Eddie this morning, and now it was too late. But, he figures it’s probably for the best. Not knowing where to look keeps him from running the risk of sparking more speculation about nothing.

______

Even having heeded Steve’s warning to wear layers to the game, Eddie is freezing. He’s wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt under a hoodie under a leather jacket, but he’s still cold. And Robin is bouncing around the box suite in a t-shirt and ripped jeans, looking perfectly comfortable and Eddie doesn’t get it. He zips his leather jacket all the way up and sinks into his seat, bobbing his head along to the music echoing through the arena.

“You’re going to be cold when we’re leaving if you don’t take something off.” Robin chastises, and Eddie just rolls his eyes. Jeff, Freak and Lucas are chatting, sitting in the seats just outside of the box. Inside the box, Gareth looks just as cold as Eddie, chatting with Nancy and Will on a sofa.

Paige returns a few minutes later with a bag of merchandise, courtesy of a voucher from the team, and drops it on Gareth’s lap. “Hoodie for you,” She declares, pulling out a black hoodie with the Blackhawks logo and throwing it into Gareth’s face. “Hoodie for you,” She adds, tossing a red one in Eddie’s direction. She pulls two more thinner zip ups out of the bag and drops them on Jeff and Freak’s heads. When she comes back in, she locks eyes with Eddie, who pauses as he unzips his leather jacket.

“What?” He asks, cautiously, and she grins.

“Got something else for you,” She says, and he’s instantly concerned.

“You’re freaking me out.” Eddie points out as he slips the hoodie he’d worn over his head and replaces it with the fleece-lined red hoodie with “Blackhawks” written across the back shoulders. Robin claps and jumps up and down beside him, concerning him further.

“They put one aside!?” She asks, and Paige nods, before tossing the rest of the bag to Eddie.

When he pulls out the contents, he can’t help but let out a little laugh. “You guys asked them to give me a Harrington jersey?” He raises an eyebrow at Robin, before pulling it over his head. It fits a little loose over the hoodie, but looks similar to how he’d seen other people wear theirs.

“Steve doesn’t know, but I asked. Figured you might like it.” She says, grinning as he turns a light shade of pink he fully intends to blame on the cold.

When the team introductions start, Robin drags Eddie out into the seats just outside the box, so they have a better view. While it’s colder out there, Eddie’s warmer in the new tops, and finds he doesn’t mind it as much. 

Robin and the members of the Party in the box break into cheers when Steve skates out onto the ice, and Eddie can’t help the little smile that crosses his face as he watches Steve interact with his team.

The puck drops and Steve manages to slip it away from the Kraken’s center, gliding down the ice effortlessly before passing it off. It’s a tiny thing, trying to pay attention to the puck, so Eddie finds himself just tracking Steve as he zips and twists around. After a few minutes, Steve skates back to the Blackhawks box and jumps in as another player hits the ice.

“What happened? Is he hurt?” Eddie’s confused as he looks at Robin, who gives him a soft smile.

“He’s fine. They only play for so long, before they switch out to keep them from getting tired.”

He tries to pay attention to what’s happening then, with Steve off the ice, but finds himself watching the other sit along the bench. He bangs his stick against the wall a few times, shouting things Eddie can’t hear. When he gets up to go back into the game, he pats the player he’s replacing on the back before hitting the ice. 

The next chance he gets the puck, he takes a shot toward the goalie, who stops the puck between his legs. Steve keeps skating, zipping around and getting back into the action. He gets the puck back, but is quickly checked by two Krakens who send him into the boards hard. Eddie grimaces, and a penalty is called on both Krakens for charging.

Steve scores a goal in the second period, and Eddie joins the Party in cheering along. He spots himself on the big screen and grabs Robin, pulling her into frame as she jumps up and down. 

The celebrations die down a little, and Robin scooches closer to him. “I can have them knock it off, if you don’t want to be up there. Dustin’s in the booth right now.” She offers, and he shrugs.

“I don’t mind. I kind of expected it, after the TikTok blew up.” He shrugs, tracking Steve back around the ice.

Blackhawks end up winning the game, 5-2, and while Steve doesn’t score again, he assists in each of the following goals. Each time, he has a different celebration with whoever he set up for the goal, and it’s sweet to watch Steve goof off, to hear his friends' excitement as he succeeds.  Walking back out of the booth, Eddie feels like his voice is more raw from screaming at the hockey game than it was from last night’s concert. 

_____________

“You shouldn’t skip the ice bath, Steve, you took a hard hit into that wall.” Max is lecturing as they move through the arena to where she says everyone is waiting. 

“I’m fine, I’ve taken worse hits and I stretched plenty. My shoulder just dug into the pad wrong. I’ll have a bruise, but it’s fine.” He insists, holding the door open for her then following her into the box where chaos immediately erupts.

Mike and Lucas are bouncing around, gushing about how great he played. Steve laughs, squeezing Lucas’ shoulder and ruffling Mike’s hair, before his eyes land on the band. They’re all wearing fresh Blackhawks gear, and Steve can’t help but grin.

“Oh man, I’m so glad you guys were able to come! Did you have a good time?” He asks, moving closer to them.

“Dude, I fucking love hockey. I haven’t been to a game in forever, this was sick. And you were killing it out there. I think I like hockey even more knowing someone who is playing.” Freak says, and Gareth nods along.

“Hockey is the only sport I’d ever really been interested in, so this was fun! Great game.”

“I have never had an interest in hockey before, but it was still cool to learn about.” Jeff admits, and then Steve turns to Eddie. His hands are tucked up inside the sleeves of the jersey, nestled in the front pocket of the hoodie beneath, but he grins.

“I concede, it was a lot more fun than I anticipated. I think it helps that you were awesome out there.”

Steve turns a soft shade of pink, shaking his head before nodding back toward the door out of the box. “Want to grab dinner with us? I’m starving.”

______________

They’re in some bar Steve texted the directions to but Eddie can’t remember the name, when he catches Steve staring at him from his spot between Dustin and Lucas. Eddie raises an eyebrow and waves a little, which seems to snap Steve out of it. He blushes and waves back, before covering his face with his hands. Eddie snorts, before getting up and moving so he’s sitting across from Steve.

“You weren’t mad that I put you up on the big screen, right? I think the team actually put it up on socials at some point, so I hope you didn’t mind.” Dustin rambles at Eddie as soon as he sits, but he’s quick to ease the kid’s concerns.

“It was fun. Don’t worry about it, kid. Really.” He says, watches Dustin visibly relax, but then Robin carts him and Lucas away, giving Steve and Eddie space and tossing a wink in Eddie’s direction. Eddie finds himself growing to appreciate her more and more. “I really did have a good time tonight. Cross my heart.” Eddie says, before drawing an “x” over his heart with his fingers.

Steve laughs, and opens his mouth to say something before he seems to reconsider. He thinks for a moment, before leaning over the table. “Are you wearing my jersey?”

Eddie pauses for a moment, looks down and laughs. He’d forgotten he hadn’t taken it off, and Robin had said that Steve didn’t know about it. “I mean, it’s technically not yours. Just has your name and number on it.”

Steve squints his eyes before he leans back and takes a sip of his beer. Eddie seizes the opportunity to be chaotic, then, decides to take the leap. “I mean, I totally could be wearing your jersey, if you wanted me to. But you’re going to have to take me out of this one first.” 

It’s worth it, if for no other reason than Steve starts choking on his drink, coughing loudly and drawing everyone’s attention. He composes himself quickly, but his face is still bright red, and Eddie grins.

“You’re a menace.” Steve accuses, voice hoarse and thick, and Eddie shrugs.

“What are you going to do about it?” He challenges.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I'm going to try reblogging with a tag list this week because it's LONG and I have no idea how else to try to make it work without hitting a character limit. Thank you to everyone who is still reading! I've got so many ideas for this bouncing around in my head, I can't wait to flesh them out and I hope you continue to enjoy!

[rjzimmerman]

Biden to block oil drilling across 625 million acres of U.S. waters. (Washington Post)

Excerpt from this Washington Post story:

President Joe Biden will moveMonday to block all future oil and gas drilling across more than 625 million acres of federal waters — equivalent to nearly a quarter of the total land area of the United States, according to two people briefed on the decision who spoke on the condition of anonymity because the announcement is not yet public.

The action underscores how Biden is racing to cement his legacy on climate change and conservation in his last weeks in office. President-elect Donald Trump, who has describedhis energy policy as “drill, baby, drill,” is likely to work with congressional Republicans to challenge the decision.

Biden will issue two memorandums that prohibit future federal oil and gas leasing across large swaths of the Atlantic Ocean, the Pacific Ocean, the eastern Gulf of Mexico and the Northern Bering Sea in Alaska, the two people said. The oil and gas industry has long prized the eastern Gulf of Mexico in particular, viewing the area as a key part of its offshore production plans.

The move could have the biggest impact in the Gulf of Mexico, which accounts for about 14 percent of the country’s crude oil production, according to the U.S. Energy Information Administration. Industry operations there focus on a small sliver of federal waters off Louisiana’s coast.

The decision would have little effect on a stretch of the Atlantic from North Carolina to Florida, where no drilling is underway.There is weak industry interest in the region, and lawmakers from both parties have raised concerns about possible oil spills devastating local beaches and tourism.

In fact, Trump imposed a 10-year moratorium on offshore oil exploration off the coasts of Florida, Georgia and South Carolina when courting voters there during his 2020 campaign. “This protects your beautiful gulf and your beautiful ocean, and it will for a long time to come,” Trump said as he announced the election-year reversal during an appearance at a lighthouse in Florida.

The Northern Bering Sea, off the coast of western Alaska, is home to migrating marine mammals including bowhead and beluga whales, walruses and ice seals, which are hunted by many Alaska Natives. In 2016, President Barack Obama issued an executive order that prohibited oil and gas exploration across more than 112,000 square miles of marine habitat in the Northern Bering Sea and called for tribal comanagement of the protected area.

Biden plans to invoke the 1953 Outer Continental Shelf Lands Act, which gives the president broad powers to withdraw federal waters from future leasing. A federal judge ruled in 2019 that such withdrawals cannot be undone without an act of Congress.

Sen. Mike Lee (R-Utah), the new chairman of the Senate Energy and Natural Resources Committee, suggested that he would seek to overturn the decision using the Congressional Review Act, which allows lawmakers to nullify an executive action within 60 days of enactment with a simple majority vote.

The expected move is “yet another attempt by the Biden administration to undercut the incoming Trump administration and ignore the will of the American people — who decisively voted to reverse this war on American energy,” Lee said in an emailed statement, adding, “Senate Republicans will push back using every tool at our disposal.”

[ayeforscotland]

What is Dataflow? Part 3: Doing the Practical

Apologies for the delay in getting this next section up - past few weeks have been super busy and then, hilariously, I was ill last week.

Read Part 1 here.

Read Part 2 here.

In Part 2 I wrote about how important diagrams have been throughout history. Understanding the 'big picture' has been important for every triumph of engineering. From bridges to skyscrapers to oil rigs and wind turbines, all of these have had diagrams backed by international standards which enabled them to be built.

The digital world hasn't quite managed that yet. In the other posts I've tried to drill home the point that modern digital businesses are often extremely siloed, communication and documentation isn't there and there is a lack of a common language between 'Business' and 'IT'.

This lack of understanding means organisations do not understand how data flows through their business and their supply chain.

It's the understanding of dataflow that's important here because it enables organisations to focus on optimising, securing and maintaining flows across an organisation rather than siloed teams patching things up where they can and not understand the upstream and downstream impact on the business.

Method and Layers

Going to preface this by saying that this may come across as complete common sense, and to some extent you'll be completely correct!

This is an example of how to create a very basic dataflow. But I will first start with understanding all of the People, Processes and Technology that I use to post on Tumblr.

So I start with six layers:

Ownership

Business Process

Application

System

Hardware

Infrastructure

What is important to remember here is that you do not have to be a specialist in every single layer.

A Business Analyst will feel much more at home in the Business Process Layer, while an Infrastructure Manager will be much more knowledgeable about the Infrastructure layer.

The important thing is that this Business & IT Diagram allows them to communicate more efficiently.

Let's Build a Dataflow!

In this example - There's an 'AyeforScotland' Element (the rectangle!) at the top. I'm the owner of everything below that element. The black lines are 'connections' representing the connectivity between the different elements.

Following the example, I'm responsible for' managing my blog 'Blog Management' which breaks down into smaller processes: Draft posts, schedule posts, answer anon abuse, and reblog shitposts.

Coming down to the Application Layer (red) - You can see that I draft and schedule posts using Tumblr Desktop and I'm using Firefox Web Browser for that.

But for answering anon abuse and reblogging shitposts, I'm using the Tumblr App.

In the Systems layer you can see I'm using Windows 11 on my PC (Hardware) and I'm using iOS on my iPhone.

Both my PC and iPhone connect to my BT Router.

And that's it for this Business & IT Diagram. I've shown clearly how I'm responsible for the processes and how I use the technology to perform those processes. I don't necessarily need to show everything on a single diagram because it would lose clarity.

This next Business & IT Diagram is much smaller, and establishes the relationships and dependencies on Tumblr to provide the service. And that's because we're complying with the laws and rules of a methodology.

In this diagram (probably need to zoom in to see it) I'm at the top left as 'AyeforScotland' and my 'BT Router' is spatially below me. Following the rules and laws of the method, that maintains the relationship that I have with the BT Router, I own it.

But I don't own the small 'Internet' that's next to it horizontally. I've simplified the concept of the internet for this example.

There's also two owners - 'Automattic' which owns and operates 'Tumblr' below it, with Tumblr being responsible for the 'Provision of Tumblr Services'.

Now naturally 'provision of Tumblr services' will break out into loads of sub-processes. Tumblr could map out their entire organisation (and if they need a hand, they can DM me!) But for this dataflow it's not really required.

Now both diagrams above are not dataflows. But close your eyes for a second and you can visualise what they are.

But because we've created our two diagrams, we understand the connectivity and using the software we can create the dataflow.

Now again, this is very basic. But when you put things into a dataflow context, you can put this down in front of a wide range of people from different business disciplines and they can start to optimise how the business works.

Here's a much larger Dataflow example, that you won't be able to read because it exceeds A0 printing size, but it should convey the scale.

If any of the connections or elements fail along this dataflow - The dataflow stops.

This costs organisations time and/or money.

So understanding dataflows allows IT people to articulate to business people "Hi boss, if this server goes down it will bring down this dataflow and cost the business $10,000 an hour" - Suddenly it's in a language they understand.

It helps with strategic decision-making, it helps with communication, it helps document how things *actually* work as opposed to how people think they work, and once you switch to thinking in terms of 'dataflow' it's hard to stop.

Conclusion

I can't wait to answer all the questions on the back of this.

Also one area I didn't go into is that each of the elements (rectangles) can also hold data (Financial data, Technical Specs, Risk & Cybersecurity metrics, Governance documentation etc).

It's also really easy to get started with it. You can start in any of the layers based on your area of work.

[moonselune]

I love your writing and especially how you write the dark companions! If you could, could you write the Dark Companions with a Chaos Magic! Tav (willing) causing a big and destructive accident at their homes? Tav likes to get experimental with how their magic works but sometimes they play with the settings too much and boom.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Dark!BG3 | Chaos

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

For: Conqueror!Minthara, MotherSuperior!Shadowheart, God!Gale, Ascended!Astarion, Naturist!Halsin, GrandDuke!Wyll

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

CW: Controlling, manipulation, coercion, injury, forced memory loss

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Conqueror Minthara:

The training yard was quiet, too quiet for someone like you. You thrived in chaos, and the humdrum of Minthara’s disciplined soldiers drilling and training day in and day out was suffocating. What harm could a little experiment do to liven things up? After all, wasn’t chaos what she admired most about you? So, with a mischievous grin and sparks of chaotic energy dancing at your fingertips, you began to weave your spell.

Your goal was simple—or so you thought. Enhance the soldiers’ abilities, make them faster, deadlier, maybe even a touch more intimidating. A few tweaks here and there, and you could gift Minthara an army like no other. But chaos magic, as always, had its own ideas.

The air crackled with unstable energy, and the spell spiraled out of your control faster than you could react. The soldiers began to shift, their bodies contorting grotesquely. Limbs multiplied, eyes emerged in clusters, and chitinous armor replaced skin. Within moments, Minthara’s proud warriors had been transformed into a horde of spiders—some small and quick, others massive and terrifying, their mandibles clicking menacingly.

You stared at your handiwork, equal parts horrified and impressed. They certainly were intimidating, and you couldn’t help but marvel at their newfound monstrous beauty. Still, this wasn’t exactly what you’d planned, and the sound of heavy footsteps approaching—accompanied by Minthara’s unmistakable booming voice—snapped you out of your reverie.

“What in the Abyss is going on here?!” her voice rang out, sharp and commanding. Before you could even think of an excuse, Minthara stormed into the clearing, her eyes widening at the sight of her mutated soldiers.

Her gaze snapped to you, fiery and accusing, and you barely had time to react before she grabbed you by the front of your robes and slammed you against the nearest wall. The impact knocked the air from your lungs, but you quickly plastered on your sweetest, most innocent smile.

“My love,” you purred, your tone honeyed, “I can explain.”

Minthara’s grip tightened, her strength as fearsome as ever.

“I don’t want explanations,” she hissed, her face inches from yours. “I want to know what you’ve done to my soldiers!”

“It was an accident!” you protested, your voice laced with faux sweetness. “I was experimenting with ways to make them... better. Stronger. More terrifying for your enemies. Just look at them!” You gestured toward the scuttling mass of spiders with a flourish. “Aren’t they magnificent?”

Minthara’s eyes narrowed, her expression caught somewhere between fury and disbelief.

“Magnificent? You turned my warriors into monsters! How am I supposed to lead a campaign with this?” she demanded, though her gaze flickered briefly to one particularly large spider, its glossy black carapace shimmering in the torchlight. You leaned in as much as her hold allowed, your voice softening.

���But they’re your monsters, my dear. Your favorite little creatures, aren’t they?” You gave her your most winning smile, as though that would smooth over the utter chaos you’d unleashed.

Minthara glared at you, her lips pressing into a thin line. For a moment, you thought she might truly lose her temper, and your heart raced as you scrambled to think of something—anything—to defuse the situation.

Tentatively, you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, testing her resolve. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

Her eyes softened, just a fraction at the bewildrerment of your audacity to just kiss your cheek at a time like this, and she let out a long, exasperated sigh.

“You’re lucky I tolerate your madness,” she muttered, releasing her grip on your robes. “But do not mistake my patience for leniency.”

Feigning a wounded look, you placed a hand over your heart. “You wound me, Minthara. I thought you loved me for my chaos.”

She turned away, her gaze sweeping over the mutated soldiers with a mixture of disgust and reluctant acceptance.

“I do,” she admitted, her voice low, “but there are limits.”

You stepped closer, emboldened by her words, and wrapped your arms around her waist, pulling her into a possessive kiss. Your lips pressed against hers with a fervor that made her stiffen for a moment before she melted into your embrace. When you finally pulled back, her expression was conflicted, her eyes alight with a mixture of annoyance and something deeper.

“Don’t push it,” she warned, her voice steady but softer now.

You smirked, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I wouldn’t dream of it. But admit it, my love—you wouldn’t want me any other way.”

Minthara’s lips quirked into the faintest of smiles, and though she rolled her eyes, you could see the flicker of affection in her gaze. As she turned her attention back to the chaos you had created, you couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride. She might grumble and scold, but deep down, you knew she loved you for the chaos you brought into her life—even if it meant turning her soldiers into spiders.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Mother Superior Shadowheart:

The dimly lit chamber had been alive with reverence and devotion just moments ago, the Sharran faithful gathered in solemn worship. Their low chanting filled the air like a dark melody, a display of absolute obedience and purpose that you knew Shadowheart valued deeply. Of course, where she saw discipline and grace, you saw an irresistible opportunity for chaos.

Experimenting with your magic was practically second nature, and the rigid solemnity of the scene practically begged for a little disruption. A flick of your wrist, a whispered incantation, and—boom.

The room was consumed by a flash of violet and black light, and when the smoke cleared, the kneeling Sharrans were gone. In their place was a scattered array of glittering obsidian jewelry—rings, pendants, even a particularly elegant brooch—all lying where the devotees had once been. You tilted your head, inspecting the results with a mixture of pride and amusement.

“Well,” you said, breaking the heavy silence. “That wasn’t exactly what I was going for, but look at the craftsmanship! Stunning.”

Behind you, Shadowheart’s sharp intake of breath was the only warning before she whirled to face you. Her expression was a tempest of shock, anger, and disbelief.

“What,” she hissed, her voice dangerously low, “have you done?”

You turned to her with a wide grin, holding up a particularly intricate pendant.

“Relax, darling. They’re not gone, not really. They’re just... improved! Look at this one—it’s gorgeous.” You turned the pendant toward the dim torchlight, admiring the way it caught the faint glow. “I mean, it really brings out the essence of Shar, don’t you think?”

Shadowheart pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering a prayer to Shar under her breath, though you had a feeling it was less about devotion and more about patience.

“Fix it,” she demanded, her tone steely. You picked up another piece—a delicate obsidian ring—and turned to her with a playful smile.

“This one, though. This one would look incredible on you.” You held it up, as if presenting a gift. “Go on, try it. You’d look like the embodiment of Shar herself.”

Her gaze hardened, though a flicker of amusement danced behind her stern expression.

“Fix it,” she repeated. “Now.”

You sighed dramatically, leaning against the altar and turning the ring in your fingers. “Only if you say please.”

Shadowheart’s lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes narrowing. “The Mother Superior does not say please.”

You grinned, letting the ring clink softly back onto the altar.

“Good,” you said breezily, “because I have absolutely no idea how to turn them back.”

Her expression faltered, a flicker of disbelief giving way to a sigh that was equal parts exasperation and reluctant fondness.

“Why am I not surprised?” she muttered, stepping closer to you.

“Hey,” you protested lightly, holding your hands up in mock innocence. “In my defense, this was a very high-level experiment. And,” you added with a sly smile, “if you think about it, this is a kind of devotion. They’re serving Shar eternally now, as fashion statements. I call that commitment.”

Shadowheart let out a soft laugh, shaking her head as she looked at you.

“You are insufferable,” she said, but her tone had softened, a glint of affection warming her words. “And yet... I can’t seem to stay angry with you.”

You straightened, your grin widening. “That’s because you love me.”

She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth lifted ever so slightly. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Come on, admit it,” you teased, leaning closer. “You adore me and my chaotic ways.”

Shadowheart’s hand reached up, surprising you as she cupped your cheek gently.

“You’re reckless and infuriating,” she murmured, her thumb brushing over your skin, “but yes, I adore you.”

The words sent a thrill through you, and you leaned into her touch, savoring the rare affection she offered so freely in this moment.

“See?” you said, your voice soft and teasing. “You’re not so scary when you’re being sweet.”

“Don’t test me,” she warned, though her smile betrayed her. “Now, fix this—or try to.”

You hesitated, your mind already buzzing with a dozen excuses, but before you could respond, the obsidian jewelry began to glow faintly, vibrating where it lay. Slowly, the shimmering forms of the Sharrans began to reappear, their chanting resuming as if nothing had happened.

“Well,” you said, stepping back with a satisfied grin. “Problem solved. See? I didn’t even need to lift a finger.”

Shadowheart raised an eyebrow, her gaze lingering on you. “You’re lucky it resolved itself.”

“Lucky?” you repeated, feigning indignation. “Please. That was all part of my brilliant plan.”

Shadowheart shook her head, but this time she pulled you closer, her arms wrapping around your waist.

“You’re reckless and foolish,” she murmured again, her lips brushing against your forehead. “But you’re mine. Just... try not to turn my acolytes into accessories again.”

“No promises,” you teased, leaning in to steal a quick kiss.

Her laughter was soft, but her hold on you tightened briefly, as if grounding herself in the chaos you brought to her world.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

God of Ambition Gale:

It started as one of your more ambitious experiments, a blend of chaos magic and raw creativity, designed to bring a spark of inspiration to the mundane, dull mortal realm. You thrived in chaos, but there was something uniquely satisfying about crafting chaos that could be useful—or so you told yourself as you conjured a small, shimmering creature into existence.

Its body glimmered like liquid starlight, constantly shifting and pulsing with energy, and its eyes sparkled with a mischievous intelligence. It was a muse made manifest, a creature designed to inspire boundless creativity in anyone it touched.

You held the little beast in your hands, its soft purring vibrations tickling your palms.

“Perfect,” you murmured to yourself, admiring your handiwork. “This little guy is going to change the world.”

Your first test subject was a sleepy mortal village nestled in a picturesque valley. With a wave of your hand and a whispered incantation, you sent the creature spiraling down to the mortal plane, watching with eager curiosity as it darted between homes and into the lives of the unsuspecting villagers.

Gale stood beside you in his domain, his arms crossed, his expression a mix of skepticism and intrigue.

“You do realize these things never go as planned,” he said, his tone laced with dry humor.

“Oh, ye of little faith, God of Ambition,” you replied, grinning as you conjured an ethereal window to observe your experiment. “Watch and learn.”

The results were immediate. The villagers, once ordinary and unimaginative, became suddenly, brilliantly creative. Paintings adorned walls, melodies filled the air, and intricate sculptures sprang up seemingly overnight. The drudgery of daily life transformed into a vibrant tapestry of artistic expression. Gale raised an eyebrow as he watched, his lips quirking into a reluctant smile.

“Well,” he admitted, “I must say, I expected worse.”

“See?” you said smugly, leaning back and gesturing toward the scene below. “I’ve created something wonderful.”

For a moment, you basked in the glory of your creation, the little muse flitting about the village like a benevolent sprite, igniting inspiration wherever it went. But then... something shifted.

One by one, the villagers began to grow pale, their vitality waning as their art became more fevered, more frantic. Their joy turned to obsession, their creations taking on a dark, almost desperate edge. You leaned forward, your grin fading into a frown.

“Uh-oh,” you muttered.

Gale let out a long-suffering sigh, already anticipating what was to come.

“Let me guess,” he said, his tone heavy with resignation. “It feeds off them.”

Before you could respond, the first villager collapsed, their body withering into nothingness as the muse absorbed the last of their life force. The creature grew larger, its shimmering body now tinged with ominous hues of red and black. It moved on to the next villager, then the next, its hunger insatiable.

“Well,” you said with an awkward laugh, scratching the back of your neck. “I mean... no experiment is perfect.”

Gale gave you a withering look, his fingers already crackling with power. “You’re lucky I’m here to clean up your messes.”

“Wait, wait!” you protested, grabbing his arm. “It’s not that bad! Maybe they’re fine? Or—or maybe this is just part of its process! Artistic sacrifices and all that? Ambition demands a price.”

Gale didn’t dignify your excuses with a response. With a sharp snap of his fingers, a beam of radiant energy lanced from his hand, striking the creature below. It let out a piercing, otherworldly cry before disintegrating into a shower of harmless starlight. The villagers who remained collapsed in exhaustion, their lives spared, but their inspiration gone.

You pouted, crossing your arms as Gale turned back to you. “You didn’t even let me try to fix it.”

He raised an eyebrow, his expression unimpressed. “And how exactly were you planning to fix a creature that consumes its muses? By giving it a snack and hoping for the best?”

You opened your mouth to argue but found yourself at a loss for words.

“Well... maybe,” you admitted finally.

Gale sighed again, rubbing his temples. “Next time, perhaps test your creations somewhere a little less populated. Or better yet, not at all.”

You smirked, leaning closer to him. “Admit it, though. It was kind of brilliant.”

“It was chaos,” he replied, though his lips twitched with the faintest hint of a smile. “But then again, that’s why I keep you around.”

You beamed, wrapping your arms around his waist. “See? You can’t resist my brilliance—or my chaos.”

He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “One day, your chaos is going to be the end of my immortal existence.”

“But not today,” you teased, already conjuring ideas for your next experiment.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Ascended Astarion:

The moment the radiant sphere erupted in your hands, you knew you had made a catastrophic mistake. Warm, golden daylight spilled out, illuminating the room in a way the Underdark had never seen before. For a heartbeat, it was beautiful, shimmering rays glinting off the stone walls like a living masterpiece. And then you heard it—the anguished screams and hisses of Astarion’s vampire spawn as the light enveloped them.

You turned slowly, your heart sinking as you watched them disintegrate into heaps of ash, one after another, their forms crumbling away until all that remained was silence and piles of fine, gray dust scattered across the floor.

The sphere flickered and faded, leaving you standing in the aftermath of your chaotic magic experiment, the air heavy with the acrid scent of burning. You winced, the gravity of what you’d done crashing down on you.

Before you could even think of how to explain yourself, you felt it—Astarion’s piercing gaze. Slowly, you turned to see him standing in the doorway, his face a picture of perfect, seething stillness. One elegant finger raised, stopping you in your tracks before you could utter a single syllable.

“Not. A. Word.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but his crimson eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint warning you against testing his patience.

“But—” you tried, your voice small and hopeful.

“Not.” He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a velvet growl that could freeze the very air. “A single word.”

Your shoulders slumped, and you glanced down at the ash piles surrounding you.

“It wasn’t intentional,” you murmured, unable to resist defending yourself.

“Hush!” Astarion hissed sharply, his hand cutting through the air like a blade. His tone was less a command and more a promise that any further protests would be deeply unwise.

You bit your lip, trying to look contrite, though your inherent nature made it difficult not to fidget. “I mean, technically—”

“Technically?” Astarion’s voice dripped with incredulity, and his perfectly arched brow shot up. “Technically, my beloved spawn are now piles of ash. Technically, you just obliterated potential centuries of loyalty and power. But by all means, technically explain yourself.”

You winced, taking a small step back, only to realize that you were leaving a footprint in what was once one of his favorite lieutenants.

Astarion noticed too, his gaze dropping to the ashes before rising back to meet yours with an expression so icy it could freeze the very sun that had caused this debacle. He exhaled slowly, a hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“You are,” he began, his tone eerily calm, “so incredibly, unbelievably lucky that I love you more than anything else in this wretched world.”

You blinked, momentarily stunned by the declaration, but before you could bask in it, he continued.

“Because if anyone else—and I do mean anyone—had dared to incinerate my progeny, they would have found themselves meeting the same fate without hesitation.”

You couldn’t help but grin, your chaotic nature sparking in your expression. “So you do love me more than anyone else.”

“Do not test me.” His tone was flat, but there was no missing the faint twitch of amusement at the corner of his lips.

You stepped forward cautiously, brushing some ash off your hands in an awkward attempt at tidying up.

“To be fair,” you began, choosing your words carefully, “it was an accident. I was trying to conjure something... atmospheric.”

“Atmospheric,” he repeated, his voice dripping with disdain.

“Yes,” you said, nodding fervently. “Like... ambiance! Who doesn’t love a little sunlight?”

Astarion’s eyes narrowed, his patience visibly wearing thin.

“Darling,” he said, his voice dangerously sweet, “you are the only person in existence who could accidentally decimate my inner circle and then attempt to justify it as an improvement to the mood lighting.”

You shrugged, managing a sheepish smile. “Well, you did give me sun resilience. So really, this was a sign of my gratitude!”

Astarion let out a sharp, humorless laugh, shaking his head as if trying to make sense of the chaos that was you.

“I don’t know whether to throttle you or kiss you senseless,” he muttered.

You tilted your head, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “I’d vote for kissing. It’s a much better use of our time.”

For a moment, Astarion simply stared at you, his expression torn between exasperation and adoration. Finally, he stepped forward, his cold fingers tilting your chin up as he leaned in close.

“You,” he whispered, his lips brushing against yours, “are an absolute menace.”

“And yet,” you replied, your smile blooming as you kissed him softly, “you love me for it.”

Astarion sighed against your lips, his arms winding around you despite the mess you’d made. “Unfortunately for me, I do.”

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Naturist Halsin:

The spell had seemed like a good idea at the time. You had been sitting in the heart of the grove, surrounded by nature’s endless beauty, and your chaotic mind had begun to itch with ideas. Surely, a little magical boost could elevate this place even further—make it a sanctuary unlike any other. A burst of inspiration struck, and you channeled your chaotic magic with all the finesse you could muster, shaping it into something you hoped would enhance the grove's splendor.

The result, however, was not quite what you intended.

Flowers erupted from the druids around you—not sprouting from the earth, but from their very bodies. Roses tore through flesh with violent grace, twisting stems of ivy coiled around limbs like serpents, and delicate petals unfurled from places they were never meant to grow. It was horrifying and beautiful all at once, a grotesque display of life overtaking life.

The grove now stood transformed into a macabre garden, vibrant blooms swaying gently in the wind as if proud of their horrific origins. You stared at your work, hands still outstretched, your eyes wide.

“Oh... oh no,” you muttered under your breath, already bracing for the inevitable lecture.

It didn’t take long for Halsin to appear, striding through the chaos like a wolf stalking its prey. His presence was a calming one, though it only made your heart hammer harder in anticipation of the reprimand you surely deserved. You turned to him, words of apology tumbling to your lips before you could even think them through.

“Halsin, I—I was trying to make the grove more beautiful! I didn’t mean for... this,” you said, gesturing helplessly to the floral carnage. “I can fix it, I swear—”

He cut you off with a raised hand, his expression unreadable as he surveyed the scene. For a long, agonizing moment, he said nothing, his piercing gaze moving over the flower-covered remains of the druids who had once called this grove home. You expected anger, disappointment, perhaps even sorrow. What you didn’t expect was the low chuckle that rumbled in his chest.

“Fix it?” Halsin repeated, his voice rich with amusement. “Why would you want to fix this?”

You blinked, unsure if you had heard him correctly. “Wait... you’re not mad?”

He turned to you, his green eyes alight with something you couldn’t quite place—something possessive, primal.

“No, I’m not mad. If anything, I’m impressed. This garden...” He stepped closer, his hand brushing lightly against one of the flowers blooming from a former druid’s shoulder. “...is stunning. A testament to your power.”

Your jaw dropped slightly, a mix of relief and disbelief flooding you. “But... they’re... they’re dead.”

“Yes,” Halsin said simply, a faint smirk playing at his lips. “And they were annoying me anyway.”

You stared at him, unsure if he was serious or merely teasing. “Annoying you?”

“Always looking at you as though they had a chance,” he said, his tone darkening just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “As if they could ever be worthy of your attention. Of your heart.”

His words sent a flush of warmth through you, though you couldn’t help but feel slightly unnerved by the intensity in his gaze. “Halsin... you know my heart belongs to you, right? There’s no competition.”

“I know,” he said, his large hand cupping your cheek as he leaned in to press a kiss to your temple. “But it doesn’t mean I enjoyed their little fantasies. It seems your chaos has solved that problem for me.”

You laughed nervously, still unsure whether to feel flattered or alarmed. “So... you’re okay with this? The whole... accidental flower massacre?”

“More than okay,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your cheek now, warm and reassuring. “You’ve made the grove a better place, and you’ve shown those fools exactly where they stand—beneath us.”

You raised a brow at him, your own chaotic nature bubbling up as a mischievous grin spread across your face. “You’re not just saying that because it’s... convenient, are you?”

Halsin chuckled again, pulling you closer until your bodies were flush. “I’m saying it because it’s the truth. You are powerful, unpredictable, and utterly mine. Why wouldn’t I admire your work?”

His lips found yours in a possessive kiss, and you melted into him, the tension from your magical mishap finally ebbing away. As his hands tangled in your hair, you couldn’t help but think that perhaps chaos wasn’t such a bad thing after all—especially when it made Halsin look at you like that.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Grand Duke Wyll:

The garden ball was in full swing, an opulent display of noble finery and delicate laughter echoing under the twinkling stars. Lanterns hung from the trees, casting a warm glow over the meticulously kept grounds, and the scent of blooming flowers mingled with the sweet aroma of wine. You couldn’t help but feel a little restless, your chaotic magic itching under your skin, desperate for an outlet.

“Just a little experiment,” you whispered to yourself, your fingers twitching with barely contained energy.

The spell you conjured was harmless—or so you thought. It started as a whimsical idea: wouldn’t it be delightful if the nobles could see the garden from above? You shaped your magic with care (or as much care as your chaos-addled mind could muster), releasing it into the air with a flourish.

At first, it worked beautifully. One by one, the nobles began to rise gently from the ground, their laughter turning to gasps of astonishment as they floated higher and higher. You clapped your hands, delighted with your handiwork, until you realized two very important details:

This was an open-air garden ball.

The nobles were not stopping.

“Oh no,” you breathed, watching as they began to drift, their jeweled gowns and tailored coats flapping in the night breeze like gaudy, oversized kites.

Panicked shouts began to replace the initial awe as the nobles realized they had no control over their ascent. Wine glasses were dropped, fans fluttered uselessly, and more than one monocle was lost to the growing chaos.

“Darling!” Wyll’s familiar voice cut through the din, and you turned to see him striding toward you, his noble bearing still intact despite the absurdity unfolding above. His expression was one of exasperation laced with fondness, a combination you had grown all too familiar with.

Before you could explain yourself, he held up a hand, silencing your excuses. “Let me guess,” he said, his tone light but edged with amusement. “You thought this would be enchanting?”

“It is enchanting!” you protested, gesturing to the nobles now gently spinning like celestial decorations against the dark sky. “Look at them! They’re having a... unique experience.”

Wyll raised an elegant brow, his gaze flicking upward. “Unique is certainly one word for it.” He sighed, shaking his head, though there was a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Only because you love me,” you said, flashing him a cheeky grin.

He chuckled, his frustration melting as he reached for a nearby tablecloth. With a flourish, he spread it over the grass, its once-pristine edges now brushing against the earth. Then, to your surprise, he lowered himself onto it, patting the space beside him.

“Come on,” he said, his voice softer now. “If we’re going to watch the nobles drift into the heavens, we might as well do it comfortably.”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if he was serious, but the warmth in his eyes reassured you. Smiling, you joined him, lying back against the makeshift picnic blanket. The two of you gazed upward, watching as the nobles continued their unintentional journey, their cries growing fainter with distance.

“You know,” Wyll mused, his arm brushing against yours, “this might actually be one of the more amusing spectacles I’ve seen at a ball.”

“You’re welcome,” you said smugly, earning a soft laugh from him.

He turned his head to look at you, his expression tender.

“You’re trouble, beloved” he said, leaning in to brush a kiss against your temple. “But you’re my trouble.”

You nestled closer to him, your chaotic heart settling in the comfort of his presence. Together, you lay under the stars, watching the nobles fade into tiny specks against the vast expanse of sky, the garden ball below forgotten in favor of the strange and unexpected beauty you had created.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

I don't know why but it got weirdly wholesome at the end. I do love writing for this series and it was a good one to get back into the requests queue again. I am going to try and get back to regular posting but this virus is killing me as is being a corporate girlie at the same time ahaha. Anyway I love you all and I hope you guys enjoyed it! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[redroomreflections]

When in Bloom

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

A Family of Her Own Series

10/10

Masterlist | General Masterlist

w/c: 7.9k

Summary: After the fall of the Avengers, Natasha Romanoff returns home to her secret family—a life she's carefully hidden away for years. Struggling to balance her role as a mother and wife while avoiding the dangers of her past, Natasha is forced to make difficult decisions that impact her loved ones.

This Chapter: Natasha makes the ultimate sacrifice.

Note: I spent my entire Sunday writing this. I paused and rewound the movie 50 times. I utilized ChatGPT to help me with timelines. I read the script. I pulled out all the resources to ensure I did my big one for y'all. Special shoutout to Grammarly Premium for making my writing look and sound professional-like. Enjoy =)

Breakfast was always something Natasha found important. In her mind, it was more than just a meal; it was the fuel that powered her through the day. She never skipped it, a rare and comforting constant in her life. Even now, in a quiet city apartment far removed from the chaos of her past, the ritual of making breakfast each morning grounded her.

In the Red Room, food was always viewed strictly as fuel, something utilitarian and calculated. She never spoke much about those years, especially not with Nicky—he was still too young to understand, and she didn’t want that darkness clouding his view of her. But she could remember the harsh regimens, the rigid routines, the lessons drilled into her: taking care of herself wasn’t a luxury; it was mandatory. A weak Widow was a liability; weakness was something she had never been allowed to show.

She tried not to think too deeply about what her training had left her with—it was just one more thing in a long line of things that had happened to her.

"Mama, I'm almost ready," Nicky shuffled to the room with his laces untied and jacket hanging from his body. Ollie walked with him at his tail. He sat next to Natasha, looking up with big, hopeful eyes.

"I don't have anything for you, sweet boy," Natasha smiled apologetically. Ollie whined and laid his head on the floor. Natasha turned away from the dog to inspect Nicky. He was sitting on the floor, his hands attempting to tie his laces as his little tongue stuck out.

"What do you need, Myshka?" Natasha asked, and Nicky held his foot up.

"I can't do the knots, they're too small."

Natasha smiled and tied his shoes. She stood up, and Nicky followed suit, his coat fully zipped and his backpack slung over his shoulders.

"Can we stop for hot chocolate on the way to school?"

"I made breakfast," Natasha shook her head.

"Eggs and toast again?" He asked as he sat at the table.

"Eggs and toast," Natasha nodded. It was all she knew how to make without burning.

"Okay," Nicky sighed, "but I want a donut tomorrow."

Natasha rolled her eyes.

"We'll see," she answered.

"It's a promise!" He said.

"You know how I feel about those," she chided. "I don't make them unless I can follow through."

Nicky dug into his eggs and toast with a resigned but good-natured sigh; Natasha sat across from him, her phone buzzing softly on the table. She’d promised herself that breakfast would always be their time, uninterrupted, but the messages were piling up.

Okoye: "Natasha, we’re seeing unusual cartel activity in Mexico City. I think it’s Barton."

Rhodes: "Saw the same. We have casualties this time—he’s not holding back anymore. Might be time to intervene."

She rubbed her temples, reading over each message carefully. It had been like this for months: catching glimpses of Barton’s brutal one-man war, getting vague reports, but never close enough to reach him. And each new incident seemed to confirm what she already knew—Clint was spiraling, slipping further away with every mission.

Nicky munched on his toast, his little eyes flitting between her and Ollie, who was sulking on the floor. She gave him a quick smile, trying to shake the tension out of her shoulders, and typed a response.

"I'm on it. I'll be at the compound in an hour," She typed.

"Who's that?" Nicky asked, his eyes still watching Ollie.

"A friend," Natasha said, putting her phone down. "They're working on a case."

"The Avenger kind of case?"

"Exactly the kind," she nodded.

"Can I go on a mission with you someday?"

"Hmm, you have to finish first grade and learn to tie your shoes," She said. "Then we can talk."

Nicky finished the rest of his breakfast, and Natasha helped him clean up and get his backpack ready. As she grabbed her jacket, Natasha saw a message flash from another chat, this one from Nora.

Nora: "Hey, are we still on for tonight? Let me know what you’re in the mood for."

They’d only met a few months ago, but Natasha was easing into an unlikely friendship with Nora. They both tried to ignore the fact that they'd almost slept together. Their camaraderie was something she needed during this time. Someone who didn't know her world. Someone as a listening ear.

She hadn’t told Nora much about her past or work—what she could share, anyway—but Nora seemed to sense her guardedness and never pressed for more.

Natasha quickly typed back:

Natasha: "Still on for tonight. Maybe something low-key? Let’s catch up."

She tucked the phone into her jacket pocket and helped Nicky and Ollie out of the apartment, locking the door behind them.

Their walk to his bus stop was uneventful. Nicky counted the steps to the corner, babbling to her about something she had no idea about. Traffic at this time was nonexistent, especially after the Snap. It was just her, Nicky, and Ollie walking, their steps in sync.

"Remember your homework and ensure you're practicing your cursive," she reminded him.

"I know, I will," Nicky huffed.

"Have a good day at school," Natasha said, crouching down to Nicky's level. "I love you, always."

"Love you too," he leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Bye, Ollie!"

He ran off, his backpack bouncing with him, as he met the other children at the bus stop. The bus rolled in, and the children all piled in. Natasha stayed until the doors shut, and the bus disappeared from her view.

This was their normal.

********

The training room was quiet, and the soft hum of electricity was all around her. She could hear the shuffling of her feet and the clank of the bag as it hit the floor.

It had taken Natasha a while, but she found her rhythm again. She stood in front of the mirror, wearing a simple black shirt and sweatpants, her feet grounded to the floor as she pulled her hair into a tight, controlled bun. Her fingers moved with practiced precision, twisting and pinning the strands into place as if the routine and discipline would quiet the noise in her mind. Every movement felt deliberate, a small act of control.

The soft padding of her shoes across the floor felt comforting as she moved to the center of the room. She stretched, her arms reaching above her head, bending into a series of quiet, fluid motions. There was a certain peace in this, a kind of grace she hadn’t known she needed until she found it again.

She moved through pirouettes, the motion sharp and fluid before she landed softly back onto the floor. Natasha paused, standing tall, breathing steady. She was a soldier. A leader. A mother. But for this moment, she was just a woman, letting her body regain balance.

When she had the time, she would sit in this training room. Sometimes, she'd cry. Other times, she would dance when her mind and body needed it.

Today, she'd danced.

Her hands came up in a strong pose, her right leg pointed, and her left hand raised.

The music started with a quiet melody.

Her muscles remembered. Her body knew what to do.

Natasha took a deep breath, and then she began to dance.

The ache in her chest seemed to tighten with every motion, a dull, constant throb she couldn't shake. It wasn't the physical exhaustion, the burn in her legs from stretching too far, too long—it was the grief, the absence, a constant reminder of what had been taken from her.

The anniversary was coming up. Eight and a half years together. She tried not to think about it, but the numbers wouldn't leave her alone. Five years lost. It felt impossible to imagine what those years might have been. What would life be like now if it were not for the Snap? If not for the universe tearing itself apart?

Stella would be nine. Natasha could almost picture it: a small girl with dark, wild curls and an infectious smile. Her eyes would have sparkled with the same mischief as you. She would have been old enough to start thinking about her future and to ask questions that Natasha would have been too tired to answer. But you'd have done it together, as a family.

Natasha stopped suddenly, her foot hitting the ground hard.

A lump had formed in her throat, and the tears threatened to spill.

The pain was like a knife, a sudden, violent stabbing deep inside.

There may have been another baby by now. Maybe she'd have been thinking about balancing the mission, the children, the quiet mornings, and the long days filled with reports and decisions. She'd have retired by now. She'd have given up avenging, given up this life of constant motion, just to hold onto the people she loved.

Her mind wandered, remembering how you’d looked when you held Stella for the first time, the joy in your eyes as you held that tiny life. Natasha wanted to hold onto that memory. She wanted to feel the weight of her daughter in her arms again. But she couldn’t.

Her foot faltered as she spun, the motion too sharp and quick. She caught herself, steadying on one leg before continuing the movement. Her body knew the steps. It was the heart that was falling behind. She could push through it—she always had.

But today, the ache felt too much to ignore. She wished for a moment that she could turn off the grief, pretend that it wasn’t there, that it didn’t eat at her every time she saw a family or a couple. Every time she saw a child running through a park or a mom at the grocery store. Every time, she thought about the future she would never have.

*********

Natasha sat among the ring of holo-screens, only half listening to the chatter from each team member. Rocket, Carol, Okoye, Nebula, and Rhodey spoke, trading updates and frustrations across the galaxy. She held a small peanut butter container in her hand, absentmindedly scooping out spoonfuls as she listened. The sandwich in front of her remained untouched. The familiar, salty taste grounded her, though it did little to quell the churn of thoughts spiraling within her.

The screen shifted to Rocket, whose frustrated voice was loud and clear.

Rocket's voice rang from the Halo. "So, thanks for the hot tip."

Natasha smirked a little despite herself, watching the banter continue between him and Carol. But her mind kept flickering back to the breakfast she'd rushed with Nicky, how she'd promised him she’d be home after her day at the compound. She'd need Nora to pick him up from school again.

Carol’s voice cut through the chatter. "The things that have been happening on Earth have been happening everywhere else. On thousands of planets. You might not see me for a long time."

Natasha swallowed another spoonful of peanut butter, feeling the weight of Carol's words settle over her. It was a reminder of just how enormous this loss was—this endless damage, stretching farther than anyone could have imagined. She’d stayed, kept her footing here, but even her little world seemed to be slipping. Her family was fractured, Barton somewhere out there in the shadows, and her friends scattered across the world, each dealing with their own aftermath.

"All right. Everybody keep keeping their eyes open... This channel’s always active. Anything goes sideways, anyone makes trouble where they shouldn’t, it comes through me." She said.

One by one, the screens blinked out, each goodbye leaving her feeling slightly lonelier. Only Rhodey remained. She knew what he’d say before he even started.

"Federalés found a room full of bodies outside Juarez. Cartel guys... Guns still in their pants. Same MO as Marseille. And Kiev."

Her chest tightened, the peanut butter sticking in her throat. She nodded grimly, acknowledging what she'd known was coming but dreaded to hear.

"It’s definitely Barton," Rhodey said.

The confirmation settled in her like a lead weight. Clint was too far gone, and whatever had driven him to this point was something she couldn’t pull him back from—not yet. Her fingers clenched the spoon tighter, and she stared at the empty container. She’d been so focused on keeping things together, on somehow pulling everyone else back into orbit, that she hadn’t noticed just how close she was to breaking herself.

"What he’s done here...what he’s been doing...I got to tell you, part of me doesn’t want to find him." Rhodey continued.

Natasha let out a long breath, steadying herself. She had to keep it together for Nicky, Clint, and everyone else who still counted on her to lead them through this unsteady world.

"Find out where he’s going next." She fought through the tears to hold it together. She took a bite of her sandwich, hoping to ease her tears, before dropping it onto the plate.

Rhodey nodded, the screen flickering off, leaving her alone. She rubbed her eyes, letting herself sink back for a long, quiet moment. She didn’t know how long she’d sat there when she heard a familiar voice from the doorway.

"I’d offer to cook you dinner, but you seem sad enough already."

She looked up, eyes weary, but a small smile breaking through. Steve could always tell.

Natasha turned to see Steve standing in the doorway, his arms crossed as he watched her.

"Come by to do your laundry?" she asked, arching a brow.

"And see a friend," he replied.

She forced a small smile. "Your friend’s fine."

Steve raised an eyebrow, his expression softening with the familiar look he reserved for her. "She leave the house today?"

"Nothing out there I particularly want to see."

"I spotted a pod of whales coming over the bridge," he said, almost wistfully. "Closer to the city than I’ve ever seen them."

A faint, half-hearted smile tugged at Natasha’s lips. "Guess nature’s making a comeback, huh? Nice to know someone’s doing alright."

They fell into silence, and Steve watched her, something unspoken settling in the quiet. He leaned against the doorframe.

"How’s Nicky?"

Natasha's face softened at the mention of her son, her usual guarded expression slipping just a little.

"Growing faster than I can keep up with," she murmured, almost to herself. "He’s asking a lot of questions these days. Hard questions."

Steve nodded, his voice gentle. "He’s smart, like his mom."

She let out a small, tired laugh, glancing down. "Smart... yeah. And stubborn. Keeps me on my toes."

"Sounds like he’s a lot like you."

She shook her head, smiling faintly, before looking back at the table where her half-eaten sandwich sat. "He’s everything we hoped he’d be. Kind, curious... Sometimes, I wonder if he’s too gentle for this world. For what’s left of it, anyway."

A heavy silence followed her words, and Steve moved a step closer, an understanding look in his eyes.

"He’s got you to look out for him. And you’re both stronger than you think."

Natasha gave a small nod, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her coffee cup. "Maybe."

After a long moment, Steve looked up at her, his gaze steady, honest.

"Group was interesting. I keep telling them to move on. Grow past it," he said, his voice laced with something like resignation. "And some of them actually do. But not us."

Natasha held his gaze, the weight of it settling heavily between them. "If I move on," she murmured, "who does this?"

"Maybe it doesn’t need to be done," he replied quietly.

The words lingered, sinking into her. Steve was thinking of letting go. She could see the traces of weariness on his face and how he looked around the compound.

She glanced around, taking in the remnants of what had once been their team, their family. "I used to have nothing," she said softly. "Then I got this. This job, this family..."

Her voice caught, a flash of grief breaking through her carefully composed exterior. She took a breath, collecting herself.

"And even though they’re gone, I’m still trying to be... better."

Steve’s expression softened. "I think we both need to get a life."

She let out a small, almost hollow laugh. "You first."

He gave her a slight smile, then tilted his head, looking at her curiously. "What about Nora?"

Natasha’s face shifted, her smile fading. "It’s nothing," she said, brushing it off. Her gaze fell, her voice barely above a whisper. "I want my family back, Steve. My wife... Stella..."

A deep silence settled over them. Steve nodded slowly, understanding without needing any more words.

"We did our best, Nat," he murmured. "There wasn't anything more we could have done."

"That's the difficult part," She nodded.

They stared at each other, a long, quiet moment of shared melancholy. The silence wrapped around them, a reminder of all they’d lost and the people who weren’t there to share it with them anymore.

Then, a sudden ping broke through the silence. Natasha looked down at her console, swiping to a CCTV display, her eyes widening in surprise as she took in the sight on the screen.

Scott Lang’s face filled the monitor, his expression hopeful yet bewildered, with Luis’s old van parked behind him.

“Hello?” Scott’s voice crackled through the speakers. “Is anyone home? This is, uh, Scott Lang? We met a few years ago. At the airport?”

Steve leaned in, frowning as he watched Scott on the screen. “This an old message?”

Natasha shook her head, stunned. “It’s the front gate.”

********

Vormir

Natasha and Clint were climbing, their breathing ragged from the exhaustion of the long ascent. The mountain seemed endless, and with every step, Natasha felt the air become thinner. It was suffocating. Her thighs were burning, her legs shaking, but she pushed through, her heart pounding in her ears as they reached the top of the cliff.

They approach an archway carved into the mountain's face, and Clint mutters to himself.

"Really starting to regret my choice here," Clint said half-jokingly.

Natasha exhaled, a dry laugh escaping her lips despite the gravity of the situation. She didn't answer immediately, her mind racing. "Yeah. I'm going to bet the raccoon didn't have to climb a mountain."

"I don’t think technically he’s a raccoon..." Clint grinned.

"Whatever. He eats garbage." She cut him off. But as Clint spoke, Natasha's smile faded, her gaze distant as she took a few more steps, each one harder than the last. There was a tightness in her chest, a knot that grew with each breath.

For a moment, the mountain felt less like a physical challenge and more like an emotional one. Every part of her wanted to stop, to tell Clint it was not worth it, but she couldn’t. She couldn't. Suddenly, the sound of footsteps caught their attention. They turned, guns drawn, ready for a fight.

"I assure you, you have nothing to fear from me," The hooded figure affirmed.

"Creepy," Clint commented.

"Welcome, Natasha, daughter of Ivan." The hooded figure gestured to her. "Clint, son of Edith."

"Creepier." He murmured.

"Who are you?" Natasha asked.

"Consider me a guide. To you and to all who seek the Soul Stone."

Their journey ended here.

********

"If we don’t get the stone, billions of people are going to stay dead." She said firmly.

Clint’s face was grim, but there was no question in his eyes. He knew what was coming. He already knew what’s been weighing on both of them.

"Then I guess we both know who it has to be,"

There was a pause. A beat where emotion played all over their faces - pain, love, heartbreak. Natasha looked at Clint, and something on her face shifted.

"Yeah, I guess we do," She said.

"I'm starting to think we don't mean the same person," Clint tilted his chin. "Nicky needs a mother."

"And he'll have her," Natasha said. As Natasha began to pull away, her heart beating rapidly in her chest, something changed.

Suddenly, the world around them shuddered. A strange, heavy pressure filled the air, like reality was bending. Natasha stumbled, her eyes snapping around, searching for the source. The ground trembled.

Suddenly she was alone.

"You think this is the end of your choice? I think you’ll find... it’s just the beginning." Red Skull's voice played around her ominously. She searched for the source but couldn't find it.

"What the hell," She cried out.

Before she could process what was happening, the world shifted again. The landscape around her warped, colors bleeding into one another as if she'd stepped through a rift into another plane of existence. Natasha closed her eyes as a wave of nausea washed over her. She only listened to her breathing and her senses until her feet hit solid ground. She could hear the running of water. If she could guess, it was a stream or... a river.

"What is this place?" She asked as she blinked her eyes open. Red Skull stood before her. Natasha looked around, hoping to find her bearings, but nothing gave her the indication that she was still on Vormir or Earth. It seemed like a purgatory of sorts. Someone else's dream.

"You’ve come this far. But I think you deserve more than just a simple end. A choice so great—perhaps you should have the chance to reconsider." Red Skull explained.

"What do you want from me?" She demanded. "Where's Clint?"

"I offer you a choice—one you may not have considered. A way out. A chance to undo it all... in a different form." He ignored her questions, only causing more confusion.

"What’s your game, Skull? What are you talking about?" She stepped closer to him. "I swear to-"

"Mama?" A voice called. Natasha froze. Her heart skipped a beat, the world narrowing into a single point of focus. That voice. Her heart dropped and then soared all at once. She didn't understand how, but she knew exactly who it was. Her stomach churned.

She turned around, her eyes scanning the familiar landscape, and then there she was.

Stella was the same age as when the Snap happened. Natasha’s breath caught in her throat. Her hair was the same—soft, messy curls that fell around her face. Her eyes were just as bright as those vivid green eyes that Natasha had only seen in her dreams. The little girl looked up at her, pure joy in her expression, a smile that could light up the entire world.

"Hi, Mama," Stella grinned up at her. Her face was unchanged, frozen in time. She looked just as Natasha remembered. Still three. Still lost in a world that didn't seem to age her.

Natasha’s heart felt like it would shatter. She rushed toward her daughter, closing the distance in a heartbeat. She pulled Stella into her arms, holding her so tightly it almost hurt. Her eyes stung with tears she couldn't contain.

"I don’t... I don’t understand. How—how are you here? You... you’re—"

But before she could finish, Stella pulled back slightly, her little face furrowed with confusion.

"Where is Mommy?" She asked

"Oh God." Natasha choked back a sob. She wants to say something, but she doesn't have the words. It was too much.

"Why is Mommy not here?" Stella's confusion turned to frustration. "You said Mommy was coming." Stella directed her anger at the Red Skull.

"Stella..." Natasha began.

Natasha’s world tilted on its axis. She held Stella tighter, her mind racing. A thousand questions rushed through her thoughts. How was this possible? What was happening to her?

But the reality of her daughter, there—now—overpowered every rational thought. The warmth of her child’s embrace was a lifeline, pulling her away from the edge of the unknown.

"I'll find Mommy, don't worry," Natasha soothed the little girl. "We'll find her together."

She rubbed her daughter’s back, trying to keep herself from breaking down. Her emotions were a whirlwind—relief, pain, confusion. But something didn't feel right. Something was off.

"I offer you a choice." Red Skull interrupted their reunion. "Stay here, in this moment, with your daughter, forever trapped in the purgatory, or return to the world you know... in a different form. I can give you a new life, a new beginning—a second chance at everything. But there is a price, of course."

Natasha’s breath hitched. "What's the price? What happened to giving up a soul?"

"You will be reincarnated. Your soul, your essence, will live again in a new body. You’ll be free from the pain of this life and the burden of the past. But you will lose everything you know. You’ll forget this life, your memories, your loved ones—your daughter. You will be someone else."

"So either way, I'd die," Natasha guessed. She licked her lips nervously. "Either way, the people I love will lose me. How is this better than the other deal?"

"Not death, Natasha. Rebirth. A chance to begin again, free from the weight of your past. But yes, in this new life, you will forget. The pain, the grief... and the love. Your soul will live again, but it will be untethered, unburdened by the memories of this life. It will be a clean slate.

"So I get to live again but lose everything I ever cared about? I don’t even get to remember the people I’ve fought for, the ones I’ve sacrificed everything for. You’re telling me to give up my life again?" She shook her head. "I would forget her. I would forget all of them."

"You will gain something more valuable—freedom. You will be someone else, someone better, with no shackles. No more ghosts of the past, no more running. You will be given a chance to make a new path. But there is no turning back once you choose. Once your soul is reborn, it will not remember this moment. You will be free of the pain of your past... but also the joy of those moments, those people."

Natasha swallowed hard, her mind racing. The thought of losing everything she fought for—the memories, the bonds she’s built, especially with her daughter—twisted like a knife in her chest. But the idea of freedom and redemption tempted her in a way she couldn't ignore.

"And if I choose the other way? To stay here, to die for the stone... What’s the difference? Isn’t it all just... an end?" She said quietly to herself.

"The difference is that you remain as you are in this choice. You will stay in this moment, this world, and be trapped in it. Without her. A death without peace, a loss without redemption. The universe will continue without you."

A beat passed as Natasha processed the weight of his words. She wanted to scream, to demand more answers. She wanted to tear through this reality, but all she could do was stare at Stella, her little face looking at her with that innocent, trusting look. That face is the one thing that keeps pulling her heart in two directions—back toward this strange, illusory world where she can hold her daughter or forward toward an unknown fate, a second chance.

"Why would I choose freedom if it means losing everything that made me who I am? What’s the point of living again if I can’t remember why I fought so hard to be here in the first place?" She frowned. "Do they come back? Does Nicky get his mother and his sister?"

"The people you love will remember you. They will mourn you. They will grieve, but they will move on. They will find a way to live without you, and eventually, the wounds will heal. It will not be the same, but there will be peace, eventually."

"I don’t want to forget... I don’t want to forget her. I can’t." Her voice broke. She was crying now.

"You are not choosing to forget her. You are choosing to give her a future. A future where the world is saved, where the people you love have a chance to live. That is the sacrifice you make. The world needs you, Natasha Romanoff, more than your memories."

"And if I choose not to live again? What happens then?"

Red Skull’s gaze sharpened, his voice heavy with the finality of his words.

"Then you will die, and the universe will continue without you."

The reality of his words sank in, a heaviness weighing her down. She was faced with an impossible choice—die and have the possibility of everyone coming back or reincarnating with the same result.

Her fingers traced the outline of her wedding band, the cold metal a reminder of all she had lost.

"Why me?" She asked suddenly. Red Skull looked at her with something close to pity, though it was difficult to read on his stone-like face."Does everyone get this option?"

“No,” he replied, his voice cold but edged with something else—something ancient. “Not everyone. Only those whose actions have carried weight—those whose sacrifices have been… significant. You’ve walked a path of endless struggle. Death has followed you, yet you fight; you sacrifice, again and again, not just for others but for a purpose greater than yourself. It is rare to see such a soul. That is why I offer this choice to you.”

Natasha absorbed his words, her mind racing. Her life had always been a series of choices, but this… this was different. A chance to leave it all behind and be reborn, or to give everything, including herself, to save others.

Her thoughts drifted to Stella, still tucked in her arms, her innocent eyes full of love and trust. Could she really leave this behind? Could she live with the knowledge that the mother her children knew would never return to them?

“Why me?” Natasha repeated, her voice soft but unwavering. “Why offer this to me and not to someone else? There have been countless others who’ve given everything… so why now?”

Red Skull didn't answer immediately, the silence hanging heavily in the air.

Red Skull's gaze softened, just for a moment. “Because you are more than what you think yourself to be. You have been a weapon, a force of destruction, and a beacon of hope. You’ve fought against fate, against what you thought you were destined for. This is your moment to choose what you wish your legacy to be. Either way, you shape your own fate.”

Natasha stood still, her heart thundering. Red Skull waited for her decision. The silence hung heavy between them, thick with the moment's gravity.

Natasha swallowed, her hand tightening into a fist at her side. "And if I choose to leave? To reincarnate—what happens to them? To Clint, to my team… my daughter?"

"They will live," Red Skull said, his voice almost too calm, too sure. "They will carry on, their memories untouched. But you will be gone. Your place in the universe will be filled by someone else."

Natasha closed her eyes, the words weighing heavy on her. It was an impossible decision, one she couldn’t fathom.

"I can't," she whispered. "I can't choose."

"Mama," Stella questioned. It seemed she was waiting for an answer, too.

"I'm sorry," Natasha let the tears fall this time. "I'm so sorry, Solnyshko." She whimpered.

Red Skull looked at her, his expression almost sympathetic.

"It is not a choice, Natasha. It is a sacrifice. One you have already made."

"Okay, okay, I'm ready." Natasha breathed. "I'm sorry, baby." She kissed Stella's forehead. She could only hope you would forgive her.

*********

"It was supposed to be me. She sacrificed her life for that goddamn stone. She bet her life on it," Clint ranted. "She jumped, and one of us had to explain this to Nicky."

Thor and Banner exchanged puzzled glances. The tension in the room is thick; Clint’s grief is a raw wound, and their shared loss weighs on everyone. But this—this was something they hadn’t anticipated.

"Who is Nicky?" Bruce questioned.

Clint’s shoulders slumped as if the question's weight was too much. He took a shuddering breath, his gaze fixed on the floor.

“Nicky’s her son,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Nat didn’t talk about him much… she didn’t want to endanger him. She kept him safe, hidden, but he’s… he’s still so young.”

“Are you telling us that Nat… that she left behind a child?” Bruce asked gently, his voice filled with concern.

Clint nodded, swallowing hard. “She did it for him, you know. She did it for all of us, for everyone that got snapped. But he was part of that, too. Part of the reason she…” He trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

Thor’s expression shifted from confusion to a deep, somber respect. “A mother’s sacrifice… to protect her child,” he murmured almost reverent.

"Children," Tony supplied.

"What?" Clint looked at Tony.

"There were two children. She had Stella," Tony reminded him. "It was for them. For her wife."

Clint glanced up, anger and anguish flashing in his eyes. “And now he’s alone. She’s gone, and he’s got no one.” His voice cracked as he stumbled over the words. “Who’s going to be there for him? Who’s going to tell him why his mom never came back?”

Bruce placed a comforting hand on Clint’s shoulder, his eyes sincere. “Then we’ll be there for him,” he promised. “If Natasha’s son needs family, he’s got us. Whatever he needs—support, protection, anything.”

Thor nodded firmly, the resolve clear in his gaze. “We owe her that much. And I’ll ensure he knows exactly who his mother was—a warrior, a hero. The bravest among us.”

That landed heavily among all of them.

*********

You'd been appalled when Happy suggested a joint funeral for Tony and Natasha. The idea left a bitter taste in your mouth. A funeral for Natasha—your Natasha—sounded absurd. She wasn’t gone. She couldn’t be. Not her.

You’d spent five years in limbo, caught between one breath and the next, with no awareness of the time passing. One moment, you were home in Missouri, watching your children play in the den, and the next… nothing. It wasn’t like sleep or even unconsciousness. It was as if you simply didn’t exist. And then, just as suddenly, you were back. But the world you returned to had shifted and moved forward in ways you couldn’t yet wrap your mind around.

Nicky had grown so much taller than you remembered. No longer the little boy you’d kissed goodnight, he was older now, with five years of life etched into his features, years you’d missed as his mother. The last time you saw him, he was just one year old, approaching his second birthday, which you'd planned together. Now, at eight, he was still small but no longer the toddler you had once held in your arms.

In some ways, he was a stranger, a person with a life outside your knowledge. You missed five years of his life.

And now, with no warning, the universe had ripped away the only constant in your life.

It didn't make sense. The universe had brought you back only to take her away. She couldn't be gone.

So you refused the funeral. It was a denial, an attempt to reject the reality thrust upon you. You didn’t need a funeral for someone who wasn't dead. She would come home. You wouldn't bury an empty casket.

And then you looked at your children—two pieces of your heart, tethering you to a reality you could hardly stand. You wanted to honor Natasha, for them, if nothing else. None of this made sense. None of it felt right. But you knew you had to push forward.

That morning, you dressed them with shaking hands, pausing often to steady yourself. Your eyes were bloodshot from a night spent wrestling with grief, exhaustion, and disbelief. You’d barely slept, remembering Natasha and the impossible circumstances that had brought you here. But for Nicky and Stella, you had to keep going.

They sat before you now in Tony’s lake house, their small, trusting faces watching you closely. Everyone else was waiting downstairs—the Avengers, friends from all over, people whose lives she had touched. But before you joined them, you needed this quiet moment with your children to prepare them for the hardest goodbye any of you had ever faced.

"It's time for us to say goodbye to Mama," You breathed. You took both of their hands and kissed each of them. "I know we don't want to. This is the last thing I want to do, but..."

Stella was staring at her feet, a sullen, pained look on her face.

"It's going to be hard. I'm gonna miss her, too," You told him. "But we're gonna get through it. We're gonna be okay."

You turned to Nicky. He was watching you, his face serious. He'd been quiet all morning, barely speaking. He'd lost both parents at different periods of his life. He didn't know what to make of the idea that this was his reality.

"Do you have questions?" You asked him. "About anything?"

"Is Mama... is she coming back?"

You took a deep breath. "No, Nicky. She's not."

He looked down at his shoes, his little eyebrows drawn together. You wanted to hold him and make the pain disappear, but you couldn't. He barely knew you. It would take more than the days you'd known each other for him to trust you. The Snap had taken that bond away from you.

"We'll always remember her. And she'll never forget us," You promised. "Okay?"

"Okay," he said softly.

You looked at Stella. She was probably so confused. You tugged at the skirt of her dress to get her attention.

"Baby, you alright?" You asked.

"Mama's not dead," She cried. "Why is Mama dead?"

Your heart broke into a million pieces.

"Oh, baby." You knelt and pulled her into a hug. "I'm so sorry. I wish she were here."

"Where is she?"

"She's in heaven. She's with Grandma and Pop-Pop. They're taking care of her."

"But why?" Her lip trembled. It was in that way that always broke your heart.

"The world was a very bad place, and she sacrificed herself to fix it. She was a hero. She saved everyone, including you and Nicky."

"But why does that mean Mama's gone? Why can't she stay?"

You tried to blink away the tears forming.

"Sometimes things happen, and there's no reason, no logic. Sometimes, people leave, and we can't understand why."

"I want Mama. I don't want her to go," Stella's eyes watered. "Please."

"I know, baby. I know. So do I. I'm so sorry."

Stella leaned her head against your chest, her body shaking as she cried. You ran your hand through her hair and held her close, willing your warmth to be enough for the both of you.

Neihter of you were ready but it was something you had to do.

*********

Walking out of the lake house behind Pepper, Morgan, and Peter felt overwhelmed. It felt so wrong. There was no way Natasha was gone. You wanted to turn and run, find a way out of this reality, this nightmare. You scanned the crowd, noticing familiar faces and others you'd only ever heard about through Natasha’s stories—a reminder of the secrecy you had kept to protect your family.

Clint and Laura met your eyes, offering quiet support, and you gave them a faint, shaky smile in return. Nicky clung tightly to your hand, his other hand holding a small bundle of Natasha’s favorite flowers. You adjusted Stella on your hip, feeling the weight of her tiny arms wrapped around you, grounding you in this surreal moment.

As you stepped closer to the water's edge, you noticed the questioning looks of some of the people gathered there. They didn’t know who you were; they didn’t know Natasha’s family had quietly existed all this time. Ignoring the stares, you focused on what you came here to do, offering Natasha this final act of love.

Pepper placed her flowers gently on the water, a quiet tribute to Tony. Then, with a soft nudge, you guided Nicky forward. He stepped up, his small fingers trembling as he let the flowers slip into the lake. Nicky's dog, Ollie, had darted out of the house and now pressed his nose against Nicky's hand, sensing the boy’s sadness.

"Goodbye, Tony," he said softly, his eyes shining with tears. "Goodbye, Mama."

Pepper reached for him and pulled him into a tight embrace. Then she did the same for you and Stella, her expression solemn.

"Bye, Tony," Stella murmured, her face pressed against your chest. "Bye-bye, Mama."

Stella didn't know him. She didn't have memories of Tony, but she felt compelled to follow in her brother's steps.

You listened as Pepper began speaking, sharing memories of Tony and words of remembrance. You held it together, swallowing back the ache in your chest as her voice wavered over the water. She looked at you when she finished, nodding gently—it was your turn.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward, holding Stella close, and faced the gathering.

"Natasha is..." You breathed. That wasn't right. "Natasha was my wife." You began. "She was a wife and a mother." You looked down at Nicky's proud eyes. "She loved harder than anyone I'd ever known. She was kind and strong and loyal."

You swallowed hard, blinking back the tears that were threatening to fall.

"But above all, she was brave. She was the bravest woman I'd ever met. And we will miss her. Every day. Every second. We will carry her memory with us." You sighed. "For eight long years, Natasha was my rock. Long before then, she was my everything. She gave me two beautiful children. Two amazing little humans who made every moment worth it. They remind me so much of her. A lot of you never knew about me. Never knew about us. It was better that way. Our own little secret. This family was something only we knew."

"But I'm telling you now because... If anyone needs to know about Natasha and how incredible she was, it's the people here. You knew her better than anyone. You've shared her battles, her victories. She was part of your family. So, for everyone who's not part of mine, let me share it with you. Let me tell you about her." You continued. You felt stronger the more you talked. "Having a person makes life easier to live. Having Natasha made my life so much better. She was the best thing that ever happened to me."

You felt a tear slide down your cheek. "Natasha and I didn't meet under ideal circumstances. She was a spy, and I was an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. We worked together on missions. Eventually, those late nights turned into something more. I was lucky enough to know her as a teammate. Later, I got to see the other side of her, the one only a few people knew. She was a good person. One of the best."

Your eyes found Clint's, and he nodded in understanding. He was the one who'd first introduced you.

"It wasn't always easy. Life never is. There were times when it was difficult. Hard choices, difficult sacrifices. But she always made sure to make things right, no matter what it cost her."

You wiped away a stray tear and took a shuddering breath.

"We will never forget her. Not a day will go by when I don't think about her. Her sacrifice will be felt for generations." You sniffed. "I can't promise I won't spend every waking moment wishing she were here. Wishing I could kiss her or hold her or hear her voice one more time. I'll do whatever it takes to ensure our children never forget her. She deserved better. A long, happy life. A future with all of us."

The dam burst, and you held back a sob. Pepper's soothing hand rubbed your back. She felt this grief, too.

"But if there's one thing I've learned in my life, it's that sometimes things just don't go the way we plan. And that's okay. We'll figure out how to move forward without her. We'll carry her in our hearts and minds and keep living the best lives we can."

*********

It had been three weeks of slowly packing away Natasha’s life, boxing up memories and fragments of her identity. Clearing out her apartment felt surreal; each item you wrapped and labeled was a bittersweet reminder. The decision to move Nicky away from his childhood home had been hard, but you knew it was time for a fresh start, somewhere the kids could grow and heal.

At precisely 8 a.m., the moving truck pulled up, ready to transport everything to your new brownstone. Natasha’s SUV idled in the street as you trailed behind the movers, the last piece you had yet to part with. It wasn’t as if you needed it in New York, but something about selling it felt too final, like letting go of another piece of her.

You ran a hand along the dashboard, the smell of Natasha still lingering, even after all this time. Going back to Missouri felt even harder—that was the home you had chosen together. You’d have to make the trip eventually to pack it up, but the thought alone made your chest tighten.

Lost in thought, you were brought back to reality by a voice from the backseat.

“No, I’m the big sister!” Stella was arguing, her voice firm with a tiny pout on her face.

You turned around, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Stella, honey, you’re not the big sister anymore. Nicky’s older than you.”

Stella scrunched her nose in defiance. “But I feel like the big sister!”

You laughed softly. “I know, sweetie. But it doesn’t work that way.”

Before she could fire back with more questions, something outside caught her attention. “Look, Mama! Another moving truck!”

You saw the large truck parked halfway across the road, its bulk blocking your path. Irritated but resigned, you parked Natasha’s SUV and climbed out, hoping to get them to move just enough so you could pass.

"Excuse me, I have a m—" you started to say but stopped. Your breath caught in your throat, a jolt of electricity shooting down your spine.

The movers were busy unloading furniture and boxes into the back of the truck, oblivious to your sudden stillness. You watched them work, your heartbeat growing louder, filling your ears. As you approached, a woman stepped out beside the truck, brushing her hands off her jeans. She had blonde hair that shimmered in the sunlight and sharp green eyes that locked onto yours. There was something vaguely familiar about her, though you couldn’t quite place it.

“Hey there! Sorry about the truck blocking the way. I was just helping unload,” she said with a friendly smile. “I’m Kelly. Just moving in next door.”

You introduced yourself, feeling a slight tug of recognition but pushing it aside. “Nice to meet you, Kelly. We’re actually moving in too. Guess we’re going to be neighbors. Where are you moving from?"

"Nebraska," Kelly nodded. "I'm a doctor. I wanted a bit of change. For some reason, I felt drawn to New York, so now I'm here."

You gave her a tight smile, wondering why her voice sounded so familiar. "Well, welcome to the neighborhood. I hope you enjoy it here. We'd love to have you over for dinner once we get settled. "

Kelly's smile widened, her gaze turning almost hopeful. "I'd like that."

fin

[johnbrand]

Enforcing Normality

“Stop right there!”

Luke quickly pulled out the gun tucked under his shirt, aiming it directly at the man before him. 

“Woah woah!” The man put his hands up in surrender, taking a step back.

“Don’t move,” Luke commanded, although it came off a bit shaky. This was his first time ever bolstering such a dangerous weapon.

“Alright, ok,” the other man assured his tone was calm and steady. “I promise I won’t move if you would just lower the gun.”

“There’s no…you can’t negotiate.” Luke was struggling a bit, something the other man picked up on. He began to deduce that the programming had not yet successfully overridden Luke’s mind.

“Look, you don’t have to do this,” the man started. “I’m innocent.”

Luke’s eye twitched, but his position remained firm. “...That’s not true.”

“It is, I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I will shoot,” Luke tried to confirm.

“I bet you used to be just like me,” the man continued. “Before they got to you, you probably lived a happy life. A happy, homosexual life.”

“Shut up,” Luke spat. “I do live a happy life! A happy life with my wife and first kid on the way. A happy, normal life.”

The man took notice of the ring on Luke’s finger. Usually, by the breeding stage, the former inhabitant was long gone, displaced and discarded by the heterosexual algorithm that took over. But the fact that Luke had not shot on sight meant the former inhabitant was still fighting, even if Luke did not consciously realize it.

“You must have been strong, vigilant, vibrant,” the man persuaded. He cautiously took a step forward, trying to lure out whatever could still remain behind the straight male. “You can fight the enforced ‘normality’ they’ve drilled into you.”

Luke closed his eyes and violently shook his head. “Shut up shut up!” Taking it slowly, the man proceeded closer as his aggressor began to lose focus.

“There are people, a rebellion,” the man insisted. “People that can help you, save you, before it's too late.” 

Luke groaned, his head pounding as it battled against the strong values that had been transplanted into him. The man inched closer, now within distance to reach over and grab the weapon away.

“Let me help you,” the man pleaded. “Let me help you become gay again.”

A piercing explosion went off, followed by a soft thud. A single bullet had bore directly into the man’s skull, knocking him out and onto the ground. The conversion drug had absorbed into the brain on impact, not killing the man, but instead ceasing any conscious activity in order to get to work. Some effects were instantaneous, while others took a little more time. In the end however, once the conversion drug was introduced to the main system, there was nothing that could be done.

Still a little shaky, Luke’s eyes were glued to the man on the ground before him. He watched as the first changes began to take hold. The man's body twitched as his musculature expanded, pushing against the limits of his clothing. Body hair erupted soon after, followed by multiple cracks as his jaw squared out and frame became more angular. The Adam's apple began to grow more pronounced, along with the pouch between the legs, which would become the conversion drug’s production factory.

Luke took a couple of breaths before lodging his gun back into the waistband of his jeans. A small burst of adrenaline and pride overrode him as he watched the man straighten out before his very eyes. The man that he had straightened out. Feeling a childish glee emerging from within, Luke became jittery with the joy of enforcing heteronormativity. He reached for his phone and quickly dialed up the local guard, eager to report his first success before embellishing the tale to his wife at home.

[bodyelectr1c]

hiii i have a request can u do austin teasing reader during events pls?

tease

reader has enough of austin’s relentless teasing

a little bit of plot, but majority is just filthy

warnings: smut, teasing, semi public, sort of sub austin? oral (m+f receiving), bathroom ‘sex,’ whiny austin, overstim. probably more but idk

thank you SO much for the request!! i hope i did it justice, but if i didn’t, feel free to ask again, and delve into the idea more, or any other requests y’all have, i’ll try to fulfill them. anyways, enjoy!

you’d been used to austin testing the limits at events; finding a darker corner to quickly paw at your boobs, or subtly brush past you and angle his hips forward in the slightest, pressing his clothed length against whatever you’d been dressed in that night; it was his way of telling you how pretty you looked, and how desperate he was to fuck you into the mattress as soon you you both got home.

the idea of being caught turned him on, without a doubt- but he knew better than to take any of his teasing to another level. his career was unimaginably important to him; it wasn’t up for compromise, and he took pride in the work he accomplished, always feeling a ripple of unabashed confidence whenever complimented by someone- especially you, on his efforts and devotion to the characters he plays,

little did you know how much the praise made him want to fuck you dumb, bury himself deep in you and beg you to tell him how good he was at it. you only took notice of this after he came almost instantly after you somehow thought to bring up a recent award show nomination of his during sex, whining about how you were so proud to have a “famous boyfriend who fucks me so good,” squirming as he drilled your pussy into the mattress.

this made you extra sure to praise him as often as you could in the days leading up to the award show. it boosted his ego in a filthy way, and you relished in the fact that your words had such an impact on him

when the day of the award show finally arrived, and you’d both made your way through a myriad of cameras and interviewers on the red carpet showering austin with compliments of the work on his nominated role. these visibly improved austin’s already ‘over the moon’ mood for the night, and they accompanied the dirty remarks you’d been purposefully making in the last few days, most recently whilst bouncing on his dick babbling about how you were “taking the cock of a hollywood star,” as his eyes rolled back in his head.

you both found yourselves sat in a relatively close proximity to the stage, the table in front of you laden with a dark cloth, which austin immediately took advantage of, putting his hand to work tracing abstract patterns on your thighs through the slit in your sleek dress. you were used to this, and he never took it farther than this, but he was relentlessly needy with all the commendation that had been thrown his way thus far in the night.

in an attempt at subtlety, he brought his hand up from its prior position, and interlocked his fingers with yours, giving you a pleading look before squeezing your hand gently to communicate his sexual desperation to you:

“please baby- please, i need it so bad,”

he whispered against the shell of your ear. you’d decided to leave him almost writhing, not because it turned you on (which it did,) but because you knew how loud he could be, and at this point, after the array of compliments he’d gotten, even touching his cock over his clothes would exude whines and groans too loud to not draw attention to you two.

after sensing that you were not going to comply, he let out a barely audible whine, before resuming his previous task, this time with more vigour, his fingers hastily made their way up your leg and circled your inner thigh. you gave him a disapproving look, but didn’t have the self control to stop him. somehow, nobody had noticed yet, but you were sure your dress looked bunched at the mid riff as he lifted it higher tasking himself with pleasing you, maybe as a reward for complying and feeding into to his recently anointed cockiness.

his fingers pushed past your already scarce underwear, moving it to the side before working his fingers around in painfully slow circles, pushing deeper into your folds progressively.

“austin, stop- fuck, we’re gonna get caught,” you feigned confidence, failing and whimpering slightly as you leaned in his direction.

he only leaned in closer, breath hot against your skin: “can’t help it baby, you’re driving me crazy.”

as he continued his pursuit, it became clear that you were finding it harder and harder to control yourself, letting out occasional hums of pleasure and bringing your hand up to your mouth in a somewhat swift motion to stifle any escaping moans.

to allow himself to get deeper inside you, austin shuffled his chair closer to yours before planting a soft kiss to the corner of your lips, which, to anyone around you, would look like a quick act of endearment. frankly- having a ‘dirty little secret’ turned you on more than you’d like to admit.

his fingers stilled when another person you were too occupied to identify walked up to the your table, commending austin for his hard work, reaching out to shake his left hand all while his right hand remained still on your thigh, glossy with your slick

“thank you,” austin replied with a laugh, voice steady despite the situation unfolding below the tablecloth. “i really appreciate it.”

after they’d walked away, you’d decided you’d had enough teasing and abruptly got up, leaving austin’s hand slapping softly against his clothed leg as he looked up at you, big blue eyes laced with confusion and clouded with lust. he didn’t bother questioning as you mindlessly dragged him to the closest bathroom, figuring you both had enough time before anyone noticed you were gone

“baby, you look so divine i can’t keep my hands off you,” -austin practically melted against your body as he closed the door behind you both, locking it swiftly. he raked your dress up, making sure your skin was always touching in one way or another, hands desperately stroking up and down your thighs. he felt breathless without your touch, and you couldn’t bear to see him upset, drifting your hands up to messily tangle in his hair (his stylist would be sure to write you a personal death threat later)

he panted as he placed sloppy, open mouthed kisses all over your exposed neck. you finally gave him some friction.”i need you so bad baby, please touch me- please.”

untangling one of your hands from his hair, you outlined his prominent bulge through his pants. he stilled.

“fuck- fuck, please baby i need your mouth so bad- fuck!” austin whined, writhing for your touch, your warm mouth, your approval. he was too fucking far gone to narrow it down to one, he just knew he needed every single part of you.

you’d die before denying him, and you slid your hands down his now tight pants as you lowered yourself to the cold tile floor on your knees, before palming him, eliciting a string of praise from a very desperate austin, who, on a whim, grabbed your hand and pushed it harder onto his cock, throbbing with need.

“baby, i know you need it bad, but you gotta be patient,” you reassured him, coaxing him through the incessant yearning his hardness had left him with by finally undoing his dress pants and sliding them down enough to pull out his leaking cock. austin brought his hand to your cheek and cupped your face gently, looking at you with a filthy mix of adoration and lustful desire, eyebrows quirking up softly as your hand brushed against his length.

“i need you now, please pretty girl,”

you wasted no more time, taking his tip, red and leaking with anticipation, into your mouth. you gave him flat tongued licks from the thick shaft to the head as he groaned deeply, eyes screwed shut and mouth hanging open in pleasure. it was fucking lewd honestly, and you knew you didn’t have much time before someone came knocking at the door of the small bathroom.

“fuck baby, you’re s’ good, ‘s like you were made for me, your mouth feels s’ good” he was drunk on arousal, words slurring as he babbled barely coherent praises. his fingers tangled in your hair, guiding your head as you took him deeper into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his length, the tip red and weeping with precum. the sensation was fucking overwhelming to him, and he bucked his hips forward slightly, unable to control himself.

“god- fuck, yes,” austin let out a breathy groan, his voice a low rumble. “just like that, baby. you’re so perfect, s’ good for me.”

you hollowed your cheeks, sucking him harder, feeling his cock twitch against your tongue. the obscenity exuded from the mix of his desperate whines and groans mixed with the gagging and wet noises coming from you bobbing on his thick cock only brought him closer. you could tell, and you wanted nothing more than to push him over the edge, to make him come undone right there, right then. you moved faster, taking him as deep as you could, your efforts accompanied by austin pushing your head farther on his cock until he hit the back of your throat, your nose nestled in the patch of hair above his shaft.

"please, don't stop," austin whined, his voice high-pitched and desperate. “i need it so bad. pleasepleaseplease.”

you didn't let up, your pace relentless as you took him deeper, faster. his moans turned into almost pitiful whimpers, each sound making you more determined to make him cum. you could feel his cock throbbing against your tongue, the tension building in his body. austin’s breathing grew ragged, his grip on your hair tightening. “i’m gonna cum, baby. fuck, i’m gonna cum.” with a final, deep thrust and a particularly breathy groan, he spilled into your mouth, his moans filling the small bathroom. you swallowed every drop, savoring the taste of him, before pulling back and looking up at him with a satisfied smile.

before you could process, austin grabbed you by your wrists and gently pulled you up to your feet with a gentle kiss, pupils dilated and eyes dark with lust and genuine adoration for you. “need to make you feel good, please, you’ve been driving me crazy all night, baby” he whispered against your lips, his hands caressing your body. “wanna make you cum,” he panted against you, hot breath fanning across your skin making you shiver in anticipation.

after lifting your dress with one of his hands, he dropped to his knees wordlessly, warm breath ghosting over your already dripping core, sending shivers up your spine. your panties were fucking soaked, and he audibly groaned at the sight before him, basking in the glory of making you so wet without even touching you. he mouthed sweet kisses on your thighs, sucking and biting marks onto your skin as he used his other hand to tug at the sheer waistband of your underwear bringing it down, prompting you to step out of it. he effortlessly tucked your panties into the pocket of his dress pants after you’d stepped out them, making you moan out of just how dirty this whole situation was.

“austin, please, i need you baby, please touch me.” you whined, desperate to chase your release after seeing how good you’d made him feel.

without hesitation he latched onto you, his tongue moving with loving precision. you gasped, your hands flying to his already tousled hair, trying to keep yourself upright as waves of pleasure washed over you. his tongue worked it’s filthy magic, alternating between gentle flicks at your clit and slow, deep movements inside you. you were a babbling mess, your knees weak as you practically rode his face, his stubble brushing against your thighs as you clamped your legs around his head as much as the position allowed you. he relished in your moans, drinking up everything you were giving him- metaphorically and physically. the obscene noises coming from you, and his tongue swirling around your soaked clit were enough to make him insanely hard again. his hands help your hips gently but firmly to keep you steady, determined to make you cum.

“austin, fuck- i’m gonna cum” you tried to warn him, but the words dissolved into a cry of pleasure as your orgasm swept through you, your body shuddering with the intensity of it. every muscle in your body was tense, hands anchoring themselves in his hair in an attempt at staying upright. your breathing became progressively laboured, and loud- ragged, each inhale and exhale a struggle as you tried to maintain some semblance of control. he made it impossible. his fingers dug into the fat of your thighs occasionally, attempting to ground you the way he held you was almost reverent, as if he was worshipping you, savouring the way your body responded to him. as he continued, he hummed softly against you, vibrations adding another layer to the already intense sensation. his eyes would occasionally flick up to meet yours, displaying a filthy mix of arousal and adoration. something about seeing you like this, completely undone because of him drove him fucking insane; the way your back arched, the way your head fell back, the way your breath hitched with every movement he made—it drove him wild.

your legs began to tremble uncontrollably, your body on the verge of giving out. the sensation was too much, too intense, and you could feel the edges of your orgasm building, threatening to crash over you. you tried to tell austin how close you were, but all that came out was a string of broken moans and gasps. he seemed to understand, though, tongue moving impossibly faster around your swollen bud, more insistent, as if he wanted to draw every bit of pleasure from you.

just as your body decided you couldn’t take it anymore, giving into the stimulation, he changed his technique, skilled tongue pressing flat against your clit and moving in slow, firm circles. the change in pressure and speed was your undoing. your body tensed, every nerve ending on fire, as you finally tipped over the edge. your orgasm hit you in relentless waves, crashing over you, pulling you under. you cried out against austin as your legs gave out, hands clamping around his shoulders. your whole body shuddered, convulsing with the force of it.

austin didn’t stop, didn’t let up, drawing out your pleasure, making sure you felt every second of your release. his tongue continued its assault, gentler now, easing you through the aftershocks, lapping at your clit to catch anything your body would give him. he murmured praises against your skin, voice soothing, grounding. you could feel his hands still holding you, steadying you, as your body slowly came down from its high.

as the waves of pleasure subsided, you were left trembling, weak, your body boneless and sated. austin gently kissed his way up your body, his touch tender, loving. he looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of pride and adoration, his lips glistening with your arousal.

“you taste so good baby, like fucking candy” he whispered, his voice husky, filled with affection. he kissed you hungrily, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, the intimacy and sheer dirtiness of the moment almost overwhelming to you.

with a final, lingering kiss, he helped you back up to your feet, your legs still shaky from the intensity of your orgasm. “we should get back," he murmured, his voice a mix of laugher and satisfaction, a smirk lingering on his face as he chuckled at your fucked out state. “before anyone notices we're gone."

you nodded, still in the process of catching your breath, and began to straighten your dress, smoothing out the wrinkles left by austins desperate touches, and making sure you looked presentable. austin followed suit, his fingers running through his hair, fixing it as best as he could. his eyes never left you, a soft, lingering smile playing on his lips as he watched you.

“you look stunning baby,” he professed softly, his voice filled with awe. “even prettier now; fucking perfect, all for me.”

he opened the bathroom door slightly, peeking out to make sure the coast was clear. satisfied that no one was nearby, he took your hand languidly and led you back towards your table. the sounds of the beginning of the ceremony began to fill your ears, a stark contrast to the obscenities of the bathroom.

as you approached your table, you could see that no one had noticed your absence, the guests engrossed in the ongoing ceremony. you slipped back into your seats, austin's hand never leaving yours. he’d lost all his nerves about winning the award at this point, satisfied that no matter the outcome of the night, he’d fuck you into oblivion as soon as you both got home.

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Sun

summary: Wally hadn't been able to make sense of what you'd said. How had it been possible that he and the others had been trapped for so long without knowing it? With that truth out for him to examine, Wally hadn't been sure he'd wanted to look any closer. He'd felt violated. Betrayed. Lost. What other lies had he been unwittingly a part of?

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.14

The world fell away as your words penetrated. Wally stilled, didn't breathe, didn't blink, didn't make a sound. As if he could delay the impact of that truth if he shut down critical functions.

Weakly, "What do you...mean?" Wally croaked, but something deep within himself had always known.

Known it like common sense; the feeling like looking at a green sky and knowing it was supposed to be blue. Like being sick since birth yet knowing that that wasn't what healthy felt like. He'd known and yet never questioned it because he and the others had had no way to be sure their situation was terribly, tragically wrong.

In the earliest days succeeding his untimely demise, Wally had tried to leave the school.

Not to follow his mother home after she'd donated his trophies, helmet, and jacket to display in the stadium entrance. Not to join his friends in Rodney's basement to get stoned after his memorial service. Not to break his own heart by stalking Jenny to the motel where she and her second choice prom date, Gary fucking Reid, lost their virginities together.

Rather, to go for a walk for the sake of getting some air. Despite having been flung back to the field multiple times by then—a lesson that had drilled into him the habit of remaining perpetually vigilant of his surroundings—Wally had had this intrinsic understanding that he could roam beyond what the barrier permitted.

So much so that, one evening, he hadn't kept track of where he'd been going (partly because he'd trusted himself to veer away from the perimeter, but mostly because he'd been relaxed. Not actively chasing down a loved one). It'd been an unconscious series of actions; one foot in front of the other, listening to Eddie Money's Can't Hold Back on a Lost & Found walkman, strolling into the thin smattering of trees on the edge of the grounds, and then wham—

Back to Start.

It had happened a few times after that, too. Rhonda would cackle around her lollipop du jour, roll her eyes, and tell him to, "Get smart, Jockstrap."

When Charley had come along, he'd experienced the same thing. And then Ajay and Katelynn. Learning the lesson after the lesson had been learned. Mr. Martin had calmly and wisely informed them that it was merely the result of not having internalized being dead yet.

But that hadn't sat right with Wally, similar to having been given the excuse of roughhousing when he'd caught his parents in a compromising position one innocuous summer-break afternoon before he'd aged into double digits.

"Babe..." Wally croaked, just above a whisper, the weight of what you'd unveiled slamming into his chest and leaving him winded, "What are you saying?"

Your eyes, marbled and bright—though not outright glowing like they had in the theater—stared right into him for a moment. You were obviously calculating what it meant that Wally couldn't leave the high school, all the hows and whys flittering like dust motes between you and him.

"Unless you're a residual haunter, like Mina or Yuri, you should be able to go wherever you want. How long have you been stuck?"

Wally's throat clicked when he swallowed, "Since I died."

You pressed your forehead to his, hands slotting under his jaw, and, voice laced with grief, said, "That's not possible."

"I mean, maybe it is?" Wally tried to reason, slumping back in his seat and staring at the 5-yard line as he stitched together his own theories based on what he'd learned as an actual dead person. "It's not like ghosts wrote those books you read. Maybe whoever wrote them got it wrong."

Shaking your head, "Actually, they did. Not the physical copies, obviously, but those authors collaborated with ghosts to write those books."

Wally didn't know what to say to that. Didn't know if he could answer a lot of things anymore. Did he even know what it meant to be dead?

You seemed willing wait him out as he turned everything over in his head, one hand on his shoulder, the other lifting the one he'd had on your calf so you could string his arm through your legs and cradle his hand on your belly, your thumb rubbing soothing patterns between the bones.

"What does it mean?" He asked, distant.

Wally could feel himself slipping away, the revelation frosting him from the inside and making him numb. He'd had a similar experience when he'd been fourteen and had broken his collarbone. The pain so intense that his brain had immediately severed its connection to the feeling.

Shock.

"It means that something doesn't want you to leave." You answered once he'd returned his eyes to yours. Your features creased, "Or someone."

Wally felt that statement like a nail through the chest. "How?"

You stared at him helplessly, caressing his cheek and then tilting forward to press your foreheads together again. The action worked to ground Wally, reeled him back from the edge of an existential crisis he wasn't ready to have.

Regretfully, "I don't know, Wally. But we'll figure it out, okay?"

He nodded against you. Closed his eyes and absorbed the warmth of your nearness, the solidity of your touch. Allowed those things to calm him.

"At least we can rule out Mr. A having anything to do with that, right?" Wally snorted in an attempt to lighten the mood.

You pulled back, smiled gently, and nodded, "Right. But he could've used it to his advantage. With her soul stuck here, Maddie wouldn't be able to get back into her body and then go to the police. It also means that he could've safely stashed her body anywhere, so long as he has access to life support."

"You think he dropped her at the hospital?"

"Not here." You said, "Split River isn't big enough to pull that off. He could've driven her to another state? Dropped her off at a big city hospital as a Jane Doe?"

Wally grimaced, shaking his head at the depravity, "That's messed up."

"God, her body could be in Detroit for all we know and it wouldn't get back here until someone in the hospital there made the connection. Unless Sheriff Baxter decides to widen the search."

"Couldn't you ask him? It's like you said, Xavier's your brother from another mother. Wouldn't the sheriff listen to you?"

You didn't seem convinced, reciting in a satire of an upbeat tone, "Hey Sheriff, I think my teacher knocked Maddie out of her body and took it to another state all so she wouldn't tell you about the money he's hiding in his classroom. We should totally look into that."

Wally responded in a responsible manner, "That sounds like an awful idea, let's not do that."

Curling against the back of your seat, voice slightly strangled, you uttered, "So, Maddie's stuck in an In Between 'til I can find her body and bring it back to her."

Wally sensed the granite mass of the pressure you were already putting on yourself. Choosing to steer you out from under it, he diverted the conversation, "Still haven't told me what an In Between is, by the way."

It did the trick, at least for the time being. Your lips quirked up at the corners and the wrinkle between your brows vanished as you informed him, "It's exactly what it sounds like. A plain between plains."

"Yeah, pretty thing, you're going to have to dumb it down more." Wally said, willing to sacrifice his dignity for the sake of making you smile.

Grinning, you set the stage, "Think of plains like different worlds. I'm in the living world, you're in the dead world, right?"

"Got it."

"Now, pretend there are doorways into those worlds. In Betweens are the spaces between the doors." You nibbled your bottom lip and Wally's attention immediately slipped, the urge to lick into your mouth making him twitch. Sweetly unaware, you back-tracked and tried a different avenue, "Not doors...maybe glass walls?"

"The door thing made sense. I mean, I think I get it. In Betweens are those places that anyone can access, whereas the living world is just for the living and the dead world is just for the dead. Am I close?"

"Yeah, you got it." You praised and Wally had to stifle the desire to puff out his chest and preen. "Well, not anyone can access In Betweens, but if your soul can Travel, that's where you go."

"So, when you project, you're in an In Between." Wally stated, though he was hedging for clarification.

"Exactly."

"And you said Maddie's stuck in an In Between, too, right?"

Wally saw the moment you clocked where he was going with that train of thought.

With a lamenting sigh, you said, "Unfortunately, In Betweens are complex. They're unique to all kinds of things like bloodlines and soul-ties—" Wally opened his mouth to ask, but you got there first, "—incredibly deep bonds you make in life with another person." He closed his mouth and listened as you elaborated. "So, me and my great-aunt enter the same In Between and can see each other. But Maddie..."

"Isn't blood?"

"And she and I weren't close enough to form the type of bond you'd need to Travel the same In Between. Either she'd have had to invite me into hers or I'd have had to invite her into mine. It's extremely intimate. Not something you do with someone you only hang out with in a group." You perked up and finally gave Wally a full, supernova smile. "I actually wrote you some notes."

The implication conjured an image of you scribbling notes for him under light cast from a laptop screen, kicking your feet as you lay on your bed like a schoolgirl. All so that he could understand the twisty, twiddly secrets of the universe...

He swooned, barely holding back a wistful exhale.

And then his brain ticked back a few frames to you on an unmade bed. The collar of the oversized t-shirt Wally hoped you owned bearing one shoulder, and the smooth skin of your legs on display.

He couldn't care less about the state of his deadness now, and what it meant that he couldn't leave the school grounds. Instead, he let a slow, devilish smirk slant across his mouth, emboldened by hormones and how receptive you were as he leaned into your space.

He slid his hand from yours and placed it on your thigh, "Gonna let me copy your homework, baby?"

"Gotta get those grades up before the big game." You played along, "Don't want you kicked off the team."

Without hesitation, Wally struck, halfway out of his seat, hand gripping the armrest behind you to hold himself up. He loomed over you, little thing that you were, squished into your seat and completely caged in by him. He hovered, heard your breath hitch, and watched your gaze go hazy.

"Lucky to have a girl like you on my side, then, huh?" Wally said, voice rough, tightly controlled, closing the distance between your lips in increments.

You reached up, wrapped your arms around his neck, "Damn right, big shot," and dipped in.

A throat cleared somewhere over Wally's shoulder, from behind and moderately above, and drove him back into his seat at Mach speed, his hold on you resituating to a socially acceptable place on your ankle. The interruption was accompanied by that arcing of gravity that emitted from a living body which meant Wally was once more on the outside looking in.

"Okay there, hot shot, time to get moving. Students aren't s'posed to be up here outside'a game time." The maintenance worker said, illicit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.

Wally noticed the man wasn't quite looking at you, and, for the first time, he had to wonder what the hell people saw when you and he were together while you were still in your body.

You pulled yourself up as fast as the angle allowed you to without injury, foot still tucked in Wally's lap. As soon as your head peeked above the back of your seat, the maintenance worker clutched a hand to his heart and plucked the cigarette from his lips.

"Jesus, girl, you can't do that to folks." He scolded you, southern accent thickening, "Lookin' like a zombie comin' out the grave or what."

"Sorry," You said and sounded as puzzled as Wally was by the man's overreaction.

"Just hurry up and get goin'." His eyes swept in a strange pattern, away from you then back then away, fixing on a point that would have been Wally's nose if he weren't invisible. "You kids these days thinking you can be wherever you wanna be, huh? Ignoring the rules, like they don't apply to you..."

God, this guy. "Can it, asshole. Give her a minute to get up." Wally snapped, bolstered by the fact that the man couldn't hear him. "Bet you're bent outta shape because all that nicotine makes your dick about as useful as a wet napkin."

He heard you choke on a laugh that you quickly masked under a cough.

The man squinted, lips pursed in aggravation. Surprisingly, he departed with no more than a gruff, "Get gone!" and stuck his half-burned cigarette back into his mouth.

Wally glared after him as the man marched up the stairs toward a ladder open beneath a curtain of cables and metal that spilled from the ceiling. Clearly, the man had been in the middle of fixing something when he'd seen you.

"Fucker." Wally grumbled. He patted your leg, pressed a kiss to your knee before he released you.

"I appreciated the support," You giggled, "Even if it doesn't do much on my side of things, it's nice to know you have my back."

"I've always got you, baby." Wally vowed as he unfolded himself and rose to his feet. He couldn't help tacking on, "Every bit of you," with a wink that made you pink up so prettily.

You wetted your lips, ducked your face into your shoulder; shy after you'd been caught in what might’ve been a very awkward position. "I'm starting to get that."

Wally let you take the lead, enjoyed how you brushed up against him as you shuffled out of the row and onto the stairs. He shot the man one last angry look as he grabbed his jacket and then turned to trail you across the field and out of the stadium.

At the top of the grandstand, feet from the ladder, the man examined his cigarette through a profoundly glum expression.

With a grunt, he dropped it to the ground and crushed it under the thick sole of his work boot, simultaneously pulling the crumpled, two-from-empty pack out of his breast pocket and whipping it into a nearby trashcan.

💀___________________________

PART THIRTEEN - PART FIFTEEN

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

[noah-shin]

Boyfriend Miguel O' hara x female reader

Summary: After a long day retuning home from work, Miguel wants nothing more than to fuck your senseless till you pass out. Late night shower is an ideal circumstances for that.

Warning:mirror sex, bathtub sex,smut, rough fuckin (at the end),belly bulge, riding

Wc: 1500

➸ Boyfriend Miguel who is fond of showering with you after a long day of work. He holds you in his strong arms as he puts you inside the bathtub and strips for showering. He likes to run his fingers through your hair as you humm a song in the shower. He desires to have you just in his arms and have no worries.He likes holding you in his arms while busking in your presence as you look up at him with your affectionate eyes.You can feel his heart beating faster than usual while your head is placed on his chest.

You slowly move your lips towards his kissing him softly savoring all the moments. As you looked at him with a dazed look Miguel held your waist pulling you in another kiss.You tighten your hold around his neck to deepen the kiss as you suck on his bottom lips. As you move your hips over his lap, you can feel his dick poking your thighs. You let out a chuckle as you realized how hard he was just by kissing you. You pushed a finger inside you,loosening your tight cunt a bit for the bigger thing. Miguel looked at you in lust watching you using your finger to pleasure yourself. Precum covering the tip of his cock from your lewd action. After some time, you went on top of Miguel and positioned your pussy lips over his rock hard dick. Miguel pushed his long veiny cock inside your tight cunt, a smirk on his face when you groaned and your head fell back from the pleasure. He held your waist as you sinked on his cock slowly, your toes curling in pleasure.You wrapped your legs around his torso as he let out a shaky moan. "Uhu I'm too big for you babe" You grind on his lap burying his cock deep inside you. You ride his cock moving slowly feeling him ramming inside you. You looked at him as he is trying hard not to just bend you over and pound you to oblivion and ruin your tight hole. You were taking his cock slowly when he started rubbing your clit with his thumb. You bit your lips hard as you scratched his back from the pleasure, his hips drilling into you. The length of his cock was barely leaving your cunt empty, hips rolling rapidly with rhythm as he grunted and groaned. He looked at your boobs bouncing in the air from all that soft yet hard pounding. He held one of your breast and squeezed them feeling the soft flesh. He pinched your nipples watching them become hard as you lean on his shoulder. Water drips down your body as he thrust into you softly. Soft mewls leaving your mouth.

He tugs at your nipples impatiently while looking at you seeing your eyes closed in satisfaction while he rubbed your clit harshly. He again leaned over to take another nipple in his mouth, sucking on it like you have milk to give him.

His eyes rolled into the back of his head and his hips stutter before he picked up an even harder pace, making you let out little "oh lord- ahh" in response to the rough fucking. As he sucked your nipples and bite around your areola,you cum hard on his dick making a ring around his shaft and bit on his shoulder to prevent yourself from screaming out loud. Soon all your juices washed away in the water. You were about to get up when Miguel pulled your wrist and whispered in your ear, " I am not done babe"

➸ He stood up holding you in his arms in bridal style and took you in front of the floor length mirror. He pressed you against the mirror and spanked your ass hard watching it turn pink from his abuse. " Your pussy is dripping wet bitch" You moaned painfully from the impact. He put a hand on your waist keeping you firmly against the mirror as he pushed two of his fingers inside you and moving them extremely slowly. You felt him pressing his body against your as he scissor your insides with his fingers while whispering in your ear, " Such a cock loving slut you are. Still not satisfied by riding me. Look at you, so wasted and turned on by me" You stared at the mirror watching your boobs pressing against it, your nipples hard and sore from all that bitting. You hair messy and drool dripping from your mouth as you have a " fucked out " expression on your face.

Miguel was shoving his fingers knuckle deep while fucking your properly giving you no time to take a breath. You moaned loudly feeling him hitting your g spot repeatedly. He smirked looking at you through the mirror "you liked that huh" You nodded desperately. "Make me cum daddy" He fucked his way into your hole relentlessly finding your sweet spot and abusing that place untill you arched your back and came all over his fingers. He pulled out watching his hand covered in your slick cum. He sucked them clean in ecstasy watching you fall on the floor in exhaustion.

He pulled you up and pressed you again against the mirror. He obscenely spread your legs wide apart and pushed his thigh between your legs to prevent you from closing them.

" You stretched out pussy just makes me want to fuck you senseless."

He held your hips as he pushes his cock deep inside you. Fucking your brain out as his veiny cock goes deeper into you and hit your cervix while precum woozed out of your tight hole. You whimpered in pain looking down as he hit your cervix again and again. He suddenly grabbed your face harshly making you look at the mirror. He growled in your ear, “I want you to watch me make you cum. Once I let you go, if you take your eyes off the mirror, you’re getting punished. Do I make myself clear?” You nodded vigorously and Miguel's fingers released your jaw. Your eyes shifted to your reflection once again. You watched as Miguel increased his pace, his skin now slapping against yours as he held you up and thrusted his cock inside your wet pussy. getting turned on by you watching him rutting into you like a wild animal. He thrust roughly shoving his cock more and more until he bottomed out. You grinded and humped on his dick with your boobs pressed against the mirror. He groaned in pleasure, biting and sucking your shoulder leaving hickeys and bite marks. Your legs trembled as Miguel keeps thrusting inch by inch into you, his girth spreading you and your back arching when he's finally fully inside. " Ahh too much " you squealed, feeling your lower stomach full of his cock. He choked you with his hand and groaned,"Fuck, you always squeeze me so good" He pulled out of your dripping cunt to give your puffy clit a few strokes with his throbbing shaft, "Now, come on baby girl, make me feel good" he moaned rubbing his head on your nub making your thighs tremble before sliding back in.

Your belly bulged as he thrusted in and out with lewd pops, your pussy made squelching sound. He traced your bulge and put pressure on your lower stomach feeling his dick deep inside you. He went absolutely feral as your cervix ache from such rough fucking.

The mirror gave you both the perfect view of his cock stuffed balls deep in your little cunt.You’re stretched by his girth, your folds spread to expose your clit to his predatory gaze. You feel more turned on by the scene and cum hard on his cock. Your juices coating his cock as he fucked your hole relentlessly for hitting his high. He pulls one of your legs up giving him more access to your cunt as he slammed himself over and over into you as your body hit the mirror repeatedly." Ugh yeah!! Take me like the whore you're"

He took one of your nipples and squeezed it painfully,cervix fucking you. Miguel let out a growl as he turned you to his direction while filling your hole with his seeds. He bit your shoulder drawing blood from your wound looking at you while filling your womb with his seeds.

Your belly swollen from the cum loads as he thrusted one last time before pulling out. You fell on the floor, legs spread apart painting breathlessly. You pussy clenched around nothing as cum drips down from your inside. Pussy red and gaped from all the abuse.

Reblog if you liked it

This was my first time writing a smut. I hope you like it and forgive me for any grammatical errors. Have a nice day/night!

[fleursbending]

𝐀𝐓 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐓, 𝐈'𝐌 𝐓𝐑𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆. 

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : sully!family x daughter!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : you try to prove to your family the endurance you behold. but your trials and tribulations get the best of you.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : requested, yes | no. based on a few chosen lyrics from the song this is me trying by taylor swift. not proofread sorry!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : angst no comfort, dialogue-heavy, character death oops, deviates from the original atwow movie plot!

𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐲 : - ‘eveng - child // tsmuke - sister // iknimaya - rite of passage // muntxate - wife // ngaytxoa - i'm sorry // 'ite - daughter // sa'nok - mother // olo’eyktan - clan leader // tsamsiyu - warrior // 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 2k words.

I've been having a hard time adjusting.

Life in the Hallelujah Mountains was a direct juxtaposition from whence you came. The ruggedness of the rocks, the sound of your feet making contact with the stones beneath you. There wasn't any shrubbery to whack out of your face. Instead, it was squeezing around the commune of people and narrowly avoiding knocking into tents.

You missed the plushness of the earth that would encompass you, guiding you to another adventure. Instead of your feet aching at the impact, they'd sink into the soil. When you'd inhale, the oxygen granted you serenity.

Up here the air was a little thinner, not enough to affect your oxygen on a larger scale - but it didn't pass you. Nothing did.

You made sure your father knew of such grievances.

I had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting.

A prodigy had been birthed within you the moment your soul graced the world. The people were more than hyperaware of it. Especially Mo'at who looked like she'd seen Eywa herself as Neytiri cradled you for the first time in her arms.

That was before. When wielding a bow and arrow came easy to you, when you'd been the youngest to have a successful hunt, when you'd come back from a fishing trip with your dad with enough to feed the whole clan.

After coming in the form of your brother who was proving to be someone who looked and felt like he was more deserving of the role of Olo'eyktan one day.

The berries on top came in the form of leaving the communities rendition of Home Tree up to the mountains where the Sky People could no longer target them.

She'd never felt this weathered down, this loneliness ebbing away at all her wasted potential. The regrets anchor themselves then, a stark reminder that this war was brooding and vicious. At a young age, she must force herself to become capable.

I didn't know if you'd care if I came back.

When the day came for you to prove just that, you did so within a blink of an eye. You didn't know the consequences that would come for doing so, all that was drilled in your mind was "my family."

So when your mother's arrows came flying in the dark of the night to try to save you from your kidnappers. The rain casts itself over and your little sister Tuk is getting choked out by one of the soldiers. This was your time to truly try.

I have a lot of regrets about that.

You barreled in, ripping the soldier's hands from your sister's neck, and pushing her behind you.

"Go tuk, run!" Urgency is crystal in your voice, and Lo'ak can only give you a quick glance of fear before grabbing your sister in haste.

He was waiting for you.

"No, Lo'ak - go! I'll follow after you, okay?" You grunt, trying to battle this soldier off.

He soundlessly nods, gulping and blinking the tears that prickle at his eyes before disappearing into the foliage and eclipse of the night.

If only her stubborn self just kneed the soldier in the groin and left with them.

Could've followed my fears all the way down.

The trepidation began to bubble in the pit of her belly, and it sunk deeper and deeper the more the soldier overpowered her.

A wrangled cry escapes her throat as a very distinct "pop" echoes through the brewing chaos. He'd dislocated her shoulder. She didn't have time to dwell on it though, her uninjured arm reaching for the knife and unsheathing it from the soldier's grasp.

Everything slows down then.

Somehow she's being pushed onto the floor, and the knife that was once pressed to her perpetrator's neck was now inching into her stomach.

Oh, she's hurt. Blood pooled in her mouth then, the man letting out a menacing laugh - gun in hand and about to land a bullet to her head when an arrow shot into his instead.

And maybe I don't quite know what to say.

"My dear 'eveng, no!" She hovers over you in worry, looking around before muttering apologies. The knife was still lodged in your gut as she tried her best to lift you up and carry you to safety.

Your hand gripping the handle of the knife weakens, slipping in and out of consciousness as your mother tries her best to find the others.

"Ngaytxoa, sa'nok." You rasp out, chest shuddering at the sheer effort such a minor action took.

She hushed you, worries growing at how pale you'd already gotten as she enters a clearing.

"Muntxate?" A hushed whisper comes from in front of you.

It makes your mother jump in fright, jostling you a little making you let out something akin to a wail.

"Ma Jake, help her! I do not know what to do!" Your mother sobs in defeat, crouching to gently lay you down on the soft patch of grass beneath you.

"D-dad..." You grunted as his hand pressed on your dislocated shoulder.

I just wanted you to know, that this is me trying.

"Ma 'ite, what happened?" Your sempul's eyes glaze over in worry taking in your form. He did not know anatomy well, but the placement of where you'd been stabbed would have definitely gotten some of your organs.

"I had to save her dad, I had to save Tuk" She mumbled, eyes lost and looking at the night sky peering at her through the branches of trees.

"Tsmuke!" Tuk whines out, kneeling by your head at the mention of her name. She'd forever be in debt to you, and while she was young - her heart knew what was coming.

Lo'ak, Neteyam, and Kiri, follow her movements. All of them settled by you, not knowing what on earth to do but be there for their sibling.

Jake gave them all a look then, a twisted confirmation - an ending to your chapter. This wound was lethal, and you were suffering.

They told me all of my cages were mental.

Neytiri and Jake had never felt such utter distraught until today's events. Sure their kids were mischievous, always finding themselves up to no good. But they thought they had this handled, each battle they've gone into - they've lost some...not all.

Yet this felt too cruel, too world-altering and crumbling. Their child, is so frail and withering.

You and Neteyam were their mighty tsamsiyu's. Never did they want to have to see you go like this. Not when you had so much ahead yet to experience and live through.

They knew you were going through your own external crisis, and now more than ever - your parents wished they'd been more of a lending hand.

So caught up in raids, so caught up in making a stand - protecting their people. That their daughter had swept herself under a mat right before their eyes.

Her cages were going to finally win today, how ironic.

I was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere.

As the eldest Sully daughter, you were more than self-aware of the baggage that came with who you'd become. The mantle to live upon and make yourself a dazzling star to gain the approval of your people.

You won over the people, and their hearts and souls. Strong in their eyes, almost the exact replica of Neytiri.

A healer apprentice under Mo'at, yet still going hunting with your father and brothers. There was a balance you'd manage to create that aided in you spreading out all the help and effort you could give.

But spreading yourself out so thinly can only last for so long.

Fell behind on my classmates, and I ended up here.

Even if you were the eldest though, you knew Neteyam was the one to become Olo'eyktan. It was what your Tsahik wanted, after all, Eywa had spoken it to her after Neteyam successfully finished his Iknimaya.

The tasks that filled up every inch of your day began to dwindle, and the people's hearts swayed to another. Your own brother, yet you didn't blame him for it.

For now, he to had to bare the weight that comes with a treacherous amount of responsibilities. The weight that comes with being named the future Olo'ekytan of your clan.

Therefore your uselessness began to amount...to nothing. Your father began to pour his efforts and lessons into Neteyam, who before used to just be a bystander - it was his turn to be molded.

Sure, you still were a daughter of the infamous yet famous Sully's, but the desire to be more than that no longer was set aflame.

Pouring out my heart to a stranger.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, - I just wanted to live up to you both. I wanted to be better, I just wanted to protect our family." She whispered, voice growing fainter as time ticked by.

"That's not on you to do!" Jake wept then, infuriated at the circumstances. It should have been him who suffered at the hands of the sky people, it was him they wanted anyway.

"At that moment - it felt like it, sempul." She insisted, her weak hand grasping his own that hovered over the knife still embedded in her.

"Leave it, I'm going to be okay. You're going to be okay."

A sharp gasp leaves his lips, before forcing them closed. His head shakes, shoulders quaking as he tries to muffle his cries.

Neytiri lets her hand rest on his shuddering shoulder as she leans down to press a feather-like kiss yet filled with so much purpose to your forehead.

She tries to explain.

"What your sempul is trying to say, is that it should be us who had been there. Not hiding in the dark, by your side."

At least, I'm trying.

A broken scoff escaped you then, "Can you just say thank you? I'm trying, I tried. I just wanted to show you guys I still had it in me. I wanted to save my little sister. I wanted to be of use, I wanted to help."

Neytiri doesn't care for the tears that cascade down her face, instead thumbing her daughter's ones away instead.

"I knew you always had it in you, baby girl. I'm sorry if it seemed like I ever stopped. I'm so sorry." Jake's voice wavers, cracks, a tear of his dropping onto your cheek - masked by your own that moves like a silent ship.

He was determined then, your efforts would not go down in vain.

And it's hard to be at a party when I feel like an open wound.

A smile graced her face then, one of acceptance. The clock was going to halt soon and she hopes that her intentions did not come off as something vengeful and selfish. But from a place of genuine protection and vigilance.

One fleeting look at them gave her great comfort though, they knew.

She etched the faces of her family into her heart then, even if they looked like they were in as much pain as you currently were. You wanted them to be the last thing you'd see.

The pain numbed then, the cries of anguish from the people that love her the most in this unsure world - muted.

The one thing that never faltered was the tight grasp of your father's hand that held onto your own, a gentle reminder that he was there as his thumb rubbed a soothing motion on the back of your hand.

Right by her your mother caressed your hair, occasionally leaning down to press another kiss to your head. Her cries oddly quieting, instead, revenge began to paint scenarios in her mind. All while she reminisced of everything you had been and what you were becoming.

"We're here, Tsmuke." Neteyam whispered, Kiri and Lo'ak chime in with a wavering hum of unfortunate understanding.

Hidden between the lines of such a simple statement, it's alright - you can let go and rest now.

Her heart stills then.

I just wanted you to know, that this is me trying.

𝒇𝒍𝒆𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 ━━━ 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑

⤷ feedback and reblogs are always much appreciated ! feel free to ask through my inbox if you would like to join my taglist. ♡

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 : @pandorainmymind @eywas-heir @spicycloudsalad @missdreamofendless @prty-poisxn @scarlettwitch-4 @23victoria @avidreader3107 @theycallmesia @mazemymirror @tsireyasgf @nijirozzz @useryourbut @yua-himari @sweetheartlizzie07 @grierpilots @reneehillary69 @fruitsalad1 @forasgaard @iwaslikeblah @dumb-fawkin-bitch @theicemav @narutoboi @hai-kbai @goosemothersblog @audigay @cyberfreaky @worldofmunson @ihonestlydontknowwhattonamethis @wwwellacom @starl1g4t

[extinctionstories]

Extinction is always accompanied by unanswerable questions. Absence makes mysteries of the simplest details: the Passenger Pigeon's weight; the Dodo's tail; the diet of the Thylacine.

We know more about some species' cause of death than we do about the life that preceded it. When its last refuge was clearcut in the 1940's, the biggest question about the Ivory-Billed Woodpecker’s disappearance was whether it was, in fact, gone. But another mystery nagged from the depths of the swamp.

Like the Ivory-Bill, the stronghold of the Carolina Parakeet had been old-growth wetland forest—rich with cypress nuts too hard for other birds to crack, and plentiful places to roost and rear young. Though extirpated elsewhere by hunting & the pet trade, the bird should likewise have been expected to persist in the wildness of the Southern swamps. Yet the common parakeets vanished 40 years sooner than did the woodpecker.

A cavity-nester, the Carolina Parakeet made its home not among tree branches, but inside their dead, hollow trunks. The Ivory-Bill was able to drill itself a new nest each year, but a beak made for cracking cypress shells was useless at excavating solid wood, and parakeets were dependent upon whatever hand-me-down hollows they were able to find.

There are other species that live in secondhand nests. And the fingerprints of human influence can be found far beyond the reach of a physical hand.

The honeybee was brought to North America in 1622, and the European imports quickly set off on their own New World conquest, heralds of the incoming tide. In less than 200 years, they were established throughout the lands east of the Mississippi River. Most often, feral swarms would build their buzzing homes inside of hollow trees.

There's no way to know for sure how large a part the European Honeybee played in the loss of the Carolina Parakeet. But we do know that swarming honeybees have been documented stealing nests from the vulnerable ‘Ua'u bird of Hawaii, leaving limp bodies welted with stings beneath their feathers.

We know, too, the impact that our current honeybee-centric system of agriculture has upon the 4000+ species of bee native to North America, 1 in 4 of which is threatened with extinction. Wild bees require diverse diets and habitat to thrive; they struggle to survive amid our sprawling, bug-sprayed monoculture, much less meet the demands of its pollination.

Without the honeybee, it’s often said, our industrialized foodchain would collapse. But, maybe it isn't too late to find ways to prevent everything else from crumbling at our expense.

The title of this painting is 'The Colonizers'. It is gouache on 18x24" paper, and is #6 in my series about the Carolina Parakeet.

[harmonic-intervention]

Since it is almost 911-day, and I am sure to be proven wrong about all of my headcanons (can't fucking wait!), I need to put some out there about my special guy. Don't even know if any of this makes sense, but here you go.

When Tommy opened his eyes, he stared at the burnt-out corpse of a helicopter.

Oh, he thought, I'm back here. His thoughts felt thick and slow, and he couldn't quite make sense of what he was seeing.

He had been here before.

He had crashed his chopper once before. He had done several emergency landings, but only actually fell out of sky one time, and that was in the army.

He couldn't fully remember. He couldn't remember what went wrong, and the theories that everyone else had were just that - theories. All he knew was that he lost control, he crashed, and was the only one to survive. Three were dead on impact, one died before recovery, one died as the medics were still working on him, and Tommy made it.

He hadn't been awake when they had gotten him, and he had only seen the photographs of the crushed chopper, so whenever he found himself back here, he stood outside of it, staring at the thing that clipped his wings for years to come.

After, he was discharged and sent home, and the thought of flying filled him with anxiety, so he didn't. He stayed on the ground, only able to stare up into the endless blue and yearn and fear. About so many things.

He blinked.

"Tom."

He turned around, no longer in the middle of nowhere staring at a broken chopper.

He was in the backyard of his aunt's house - his father's sister. The person who had spoken was Michael, one of his cousins, who, like the rest of the family, insisted on calling him Tom because Tommy is juvenile! Grow up!

"You know the rules, man," Michael continued, sounding almost apologetic.

Tommy remembered this day. His mother had just died a couple of months back and he was still getting used to the loveless house and the polite coolness of his father's family that his mother had done her best to shield him from.

His thoughts felt disjointed, and he couldn't quite remember what this was about. Someone said something that made Tommy feel awful, at the very least, and when he tried to speak out, Michael had stopped him.

You know the rules.

Like be seen, not heard, don't disagree with the adults, and, most importantly, don't be gay.

It was the moment that Tommy realized he needed to keep quiet about everything. Don't speak up, don't do anything but nod when faced with their opinions, be straight.

He blinked.

"Thomas."

There was only one person who called him Thomas, and only one person who did it like this - slurred together into almost one syllable, always sounding angry.

He was back in the living room of his childhood home, seventeen, a backpack slung over his shoulder, his father sat on the couch with a bottle of whiskey.

He had trouble grasping his thoughts for a moment - hadn't he just been in the yard? Much younger? What was that about a helicopter?

He knew what would happen that day. He'd kissed Andrew Jenkins behind the old hunter's shack three weeks ago, and the rumors had finally reached his dad.

"What did I always tell you?" his father asked, or tried to.

He had said a lot. Never anything worth listening to.

"Didn't ya hear me, boy? What did I always tell you!?"

Tommy's father was not a man who liked being ignored. He yelled and roared, spittle and drops of whiskey flying from his mouth. Tommy stayed quiet.

"No fucking son of mine will be one of those queers, you understand me, boy!? So, when I ask you whether what I heard is true, you better say no!"

Tommy had to think of something about a forged signature, of running away, of a camp and drills and training and men just like his father, of a helicopter.

"Is what I heard today true, boy?"

"You're a sorry excuse for a man." Tommy was reasonably sure that was not what was supposed to come out of his mouth. He never said anything like this. He only ever wanted to.

His father, in a blur, suddenly stood in front of Tommy. His face morphed into Gerrard's for a moment, then back into the haggard, cross-eyed man Tommy had known in his youth.

He was close enough that Tommy could smell his alcohol-stained breath, something he had become too familiar with. When he was young, his father had seemed scary, intimidating to him. Now, he seemed weak, not able to keep himself upright.

All his life, he had wished he had taken a swing at his dad, just once. Fought back, just once.

Violence ran in the family, after all.

He had a hand fisted in the collar of his father's shirt. He didn't know how it got there.

His father smiled. He had never smiled. Sneered, yes. Frowned, a lot. Never smiled. It didn't suit him. "Do it, you coward. Be a man."

He hadn't said that in this context. Not to Tommy. He had said it to his brother-in-law after Tommy's mother had died and a fight between his father and the rest of the in-laws caused them to never contact Tommy again.

God, Tommy hated this man. He didn't hate many people, he didn't think. Vaguely, he thought that he would normally just wash his hands of them and never think of them. That sounded better.

But he would never completely remove this. He was his father's son, after all.

He blinked.

"Tommy."

They had moved from the living room to the entrance. He wasn't seventeen. He was 40, holding onto his father's shirt collar, and in the open door of his childhood home behind him stood Evan.

He reached out a hand, and Tommy immediately dropped his father in favor of turning around and accepting Evan's grasp. His grip was strong, a bit tight, clutching at him almost in desperation.

"Tommy," he said again, but there was almost an echo there, far away and urgent. He seemed to be staring right through Tommy.

He gripped Tommy's shoulders with both of his hands. "Tommy, come on. You gotta be here."

"I- I am?" Tommy said, or he thought he did. His voice got lost in Evan's.

"Tommy, please."

He blinked.

Then again.

And again.

He smelled smoke. The side of his face felt tacky and the sun was painfully bright in his eyes. His head was pounding.

He tried to sit up, but everything in his head slid off a slope and he dropped back down, closing his eyes against the spinning tree tops.

He breathed against the nausea rising up in his stomach, but that just made him cough thanks to the smoke. God, his ribs hurt. He'd probably cracked a few.

His copter had gone down, he remembered suddenly.

He had told them that something wasn't quite right, but they had sent him up anyway. And then, he started having issues with the rotor controls.

He'd tried for an emergency landing, but when there was nothing but forest underneath him, there wasn't excactly room to safely land a chopper.

He remembered being conscious after hitting the ground. He remembered crawling out of there and throwing up as soon as he got his legs under him, before he stumbled away as the hunk of junk left of his copter burst into flames.

He had made as far as his legs could carry him until he collapsed to the ground.

His head hurt. Breathing hurt. He kind of just wanted to go to sleep.

"Tommy!"

He smiled a bit. Maybe he could go and find Evan in his dream again.

"Tommy!" Louder this time. Closer, it seemed. Urgent.

How long had Evan been shouting for him? He'd heard that same urgent undertone in his dream.

"Tommy!"

He could hear additional voices, now. He couldn't identify them. He could hear the sound of several heavy boots making their way through the undergrowth.

Good. He didn't think he could talk if he tried.

For a moment, the sounds stopped. Then picked up again, louder, and faster, and coming closer.

"Tommy!" A heavy body crashed to the ground next to him, and hands on his face gently, slowly helped him turn his head to look at Evan, kneeling next to him.

He slowly raised his hand. His shoulder hurt a bit, too, but not as bad as his head. Evan took his hand before he could try to figure out what to do with it.

"Can you talk? Where are you hurt?"

Everywhere? Tommy didn't think he had broken anything but his ribs - miracle of miracles - but he was pretty banged up. He'd probably be bruised all over. He was probably also concussed, now that he thought about it.

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Swallowed, and it felt like nails scraping against the inside of his throat. Kept looking at Evan, despite the presence of other people appearing at his side, other hands trying to figure out what was wrong with him.

"Ev-Evan," he croaked, and almost regretted it immediately, if it wasn't for the relieved smile it caused.

"Yeah, it's me, it's Evan. We've got you, now. You'll be okay."

Tommy nodded as best as he could, and Evan didn't leave his side for a moment when he was picked up.

He kept mumbling his name over and over whenever Tommy's eyes shut for too long, whenever it looked like Tommy was about to slip away. He kept holding his hand.

"Tommy."

[lady-griffin]

Possible Idea for the Firelights in S2

Which I’ve fallen way too much in love with, btw

After the Firelight Base is attacked, where do they go?

Do they just go back to their broken, destroyed home? Try to fix it up? Can they even go back?

Do they disperse?

Or do they go to a location most people (especially those from topside) would have difficulty navigating if they didn’t know exactly where to go?

Like an abandoned mine of sorts? One with really large, giant machines suspended in the air that could be used as little community hubs, perfectly accessible for those with hoverboards?

It’s just something to consider.

Seriously, I can’t express how much I love the idea of Jinx’s lair becoming the new base for the Firelights. I love it way too much; I’m going to be crushed when it doesn't happen (which to be fair is totally on me).

The old mines would be perfect for the Firelights, especially in helping them recover and giving them a sense of extra protection and security after what they’ve gone through.

Maybe it’s not permanent, but it doesn't have to be, it allows them to stay together, so it’s home for the moment

Destroying their base, likely making them scared to return, is an ingenious way to physically separate a group of people who are loyal to one another and fight well together, but this way they wouldn’t have to disperse.

It seems like the mines are well-hidden and isolated, with a lot of natural defenses – it’s been abandoned for a long time, there’s probably a complicated tunnel system to the cavern, and it has multiple physical locations (the drill/fans we’ve seen) that others (their enemies) can’t easily get to.

There are probably a few like Jinx’s lab, where they connect to the tunnels that lead outside, but the few we’ve seen in the background, seem pretty inaccessible – unless you’re a group of people who can fly.

There’s also the idea of Piltover and Noxus winning the day and those who’ve been pushed to live underground having to retreat further down to be safe.

But it’s not a defeat, it’s just a retreat. They’re still here.

I also really love the idea of how this place once represented darkness and the abyss, basically daring you to look down, especially when compared to Ekko's original base for the Firelights, representing light and hope, encouraging you to look up.

It’s still the same place it was in S1, but it's changed with all these other people sharing it with Jinx.

Not because she was forced to, but because she chose to open her space to others, one that was solely hers and we only saw her and Silco there.

But now it's filled with others, who've impacted and changed it with their own touches of color and graffiti and when we look, we see there are all these little pockets of light and color in the dark abyss.

There's still darkness, but it's no longer all consuming.

And I don't know, the idea just warms my heart so much, and I really, really want to see it.

Also, I can’t fully tell, but when Ekko is pulling the chain in the trailer, the area is dark and it could be a cave. So, maybe? Again, it’s hard to tell.

Seriously though, I love this idea so goddamn much!