#Supplier Relations

[expressbankingservice]

WooCommerce Dropshipping: Building Your Online Store Hassle-Free"

WooCommerce, a popular e-commerce platform built on WordPress, offers a versatile and customizable solution for entrepreneurs looking to start and grow their online businesses. When combined with dropshipping, WooCommerce enables entrepreneurs to create an efficient and scalable e-commerce operation without the need to hold inventory. Here’s a comprehensive overview of WooCommerce dropshipping:1.…

[brain-wyrm]

My detective Conan oc idea based on how relevant they could be: a humble cyanide salesman

[ipcommunications]

What Is More Beneficial – On-Premises VoIP Or Hosted VoIP?

All the strategies related to maximising the investment in business communication will be successful only when you decide whether to manage your own VoIP system or allow a host to do this on your behalf. Businesses across the globe have realised the advantages of VoIP technology and VoIP phone handsets. Now there is chaos among enterprises to switch to this technology, and more than 35% of businesses across the globe have already adopted it. The question is whether to host and manage your VoIP system on your own or rely upon a hosted VoIP, where a service provider does everything for you.

On Premises Voip Vs Hosted Voip – What Is The Difference?

Both options will allow you to take advantage of the benefits of the VoIP phone systems. To get the most out of it, you will have to decide whether to self-host or enjoy the services of the hosted VoIP technology.

What Is A Premise-Based Voip?

In this arrangement, the whole system will be present at your office, like the equipment and the software needed to run the system will be there at your office. You will be responsible for its maintenance, security, upgrading and upkeep. This is easy if you have a well-established IT infrastructure and a dedicated team to manage the entire business communication scenario at your office.

What Is Hosted Voip Technology?

A service provider will be hired and responsible for meeting all your VoIP-related requirements in this arrangement. This system is also called the cloud and is managed with the help of virtual servers that these hosting companies have.

What Are The Pros Of Premise-Based Voip Technology?

���          No risk of price hikes from the service provider

•          Complete control over your VoIP system and VoIP phone handsets

•          Customisation of the system’s features is completely in your hands

•          No additional cost of scalability

Cons of On-Premises Voip System

•          Higher installation and set-up cost

•          Long-term commitment to maintenance and security is required

•          You will need a dedicated staff for constant service, maintenance and support

•          Extensive investment and resources for proper management

Advantages of Hosted Voip Systems

•          No stress related to maintenance, management and security

•          Incredibly low set-up cost

•          Fast implementation

•          Easily scalable depending on your needs

•          You can focus on your business and revenue generation

Disadvantages of Hosted Voip Technology

•          The system control is in the hands of the service provider

•          There is a vendor locking period

•          Network connection fluctuation will be experienced

Whether To Choose Hosted Or On-Premises Voip?

The answer to this question depends entirely on your organisation’s current capability, resources and funds. You can review your current circumstances and goals, and since every business is unique, it is ideal that the solutions tailored to fit your specific needs are selected.

[siorasurgical-post]

Sports-Related Fractures - How to Manage Them

Whether you enjoy sports on weekends or are a competitive athlete, sports activities always pose a risk of musculoskeletal injuries. Among all injuries, fractures are common, forcing you to take a break from your favorite activity. But fear not, with proper management and patience, you'll be back on the field stronger than ever. This post will have a quick look at managing Sports-related fractures.

[reasonsforhope]

1. More children are surviving today than ever before.

Close to 8 million more children in the world survive to see their fifth birthday than in 1990 — a 60 percent decline in annual under-five child mortality. 

UNICEF and partners have contributed to this remarkable achievement through proven, sustainable solutions for improving maternal and child health care services and strengthening disease prevention — and delivering those solutions at scale...

2. Vaccines have saved 154 million lives in the last 50 years.

As the world’s largest vaccine supplier, UNICEF procures and distributes enough vaccines annually to immunize 45 percent of the world's children. In 2023, UNICEF supplied 2.8 billion vaccine doses to 105 countries, up from just over 2 billion to 102 countries in 2020. Through widespread immunizations, polio is on the brink of eradication.

3. Safe water is available to over 2.1 billion more people compared to 20 years ago.

Consistent access to a sufficient supply of safe water for drinking, cooking and personal hygiene is the foundation for child survival, healthier lives, stronger economies and more sustainable societies. With support from UNICEF and partners, more than a quarter of the world's population gained access to safe and clean drinking water in the past two decades.

UNICEF-supported programs help ensure access to safe water for 35 million people around the world every year. UNICEF also leads coordinated emergency response efforts related to safe water access in roughly 85 percent of countries affected by crises. In 2023, over 42 million people in 73 countries were reached with emergency water services, helping to prevent outbreaks of cholera and other waterborne diseases.

To help build community resilience to climate shocks, UNICEF has also supported the installation of more than 8,900 solar-powered water systems in 56 countries — an important climate adaption measure that also reduces the use of fossil fuels.

4. The number of children with stunted growth due to malnutrition has declined by 40 percent since 2000.

For more than two decades, UNICEF has been the world’s largest procurer of ready-to-use therapeutic food (RUTF), procuring up to 80 percent of global demand, ensuring children suffering from severe malnutrition can be treated successfully.

5. Over 68 million child marriages have been averted in the last 25 years, giving girls their childhoods back.

In the late 1990s, 1 in 4 young women aged 20 to 24 were married as children. Today, it's 1 in 5. UNICEF has played an important role in global efforts to end child marriage, supporting 35 countries in implementing action plans, and working at the community level and across the health, education and other sectors to increase knowledge and change attitudes around the practice.

In 2023, UNICEF reached 11 million adolescent girls with prevention and care interventions empowering them to delay marriage and choose their own futures. 

6. Fewer kids are out of school.

The world stands on the cusp of realizing primary education as a basic right of every child. A world where more children learn is a world that is healthier, more prosperous and more resilient.

In the early 1950s, roughly half of all primary school-aged children were out of school. Now it's less than 10 percent. And every year, 23 million more girls are completing secondary school compared to a decade ago...

7. The world is on track to eliminate open defecation by 2030.

In the last two decades, 2.5 billion people have gained access to safely managed sanitation, while the number of people practicing open defecation has also declined by two-thirds — from 1.3 billion in 2000 to 419 million in 2022 — putting the world on track to eliminate the practice entirely. 

Ending open defecation drastically lowers the risks of diseases and malnutrition among children in low-income and lower-middle-income countries. Child deaths from diarrhea — a leading killer of young children — have already decreased by 60 percent...

8. Birth registration rates are way up.

Today, 77 percent of children under 5 are registered, up from 60 percent in the early 2000s — a major leap towards ensuring every child has a legal identity and can access health, education and other essential services...

Countries that prioritize birth registration see rapid progress. In Côte d’Ivoire, birth registration prevalence rose steadily from 65 percent in 2012 to 96 percent by 2021, proving that change at scale is possible.

9. A future free from HIV seems possible, one baby at a time.

An estimated 1.9 million deaths and 4 million HIV infections have been averted among pregnant women and children in the past 25 years...

10. In times of crisis and emergency, UNICEF is there — helping to save more children's lives than any other humanitarian organization.

[Note: Okay, I think they're cheating listing this one, but the article header said 10 things, so if I included only 9 it would be weird. Obviously this is an article from UNICEF, but UNICEF's data, reporting, and statistics are considered to be of high quality.]

-via UNICEF, February 25, 2025

[ariestrxsh]

dealer!chris x dealer!reader

💸 content warning: smut/angst (in later chapters; this one's mostly just suggestive), mentions of hard drugs and guns, enemies to lovers, slow burn

💸 summary: you and chris set aside your differences to join forces and close on a sweet deal with a local supplier.

there will be several parts to this story, and they will contain sex, drugs, violence, use of weapons, and a lot of things that could be triggering if you've ever been apart of the drug world or loved someone with an addiction. i don't mean to glorify drug use, selling, or anything like that, but i wanted this story to be realistic, so it does appear like a somewhat "glamorous" lifestyle to chris and the reader in the first few parts. i want to make it very clear that when you get involved in the drug world in real life, you usually end up in one of two places: the ground or prison.

dividers by @/kimjiho1

WHEN SPARKS FLY

chapters: | intro | 1 |

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Chris Sturniolo," you sneered, crossing your arms after stepping out onto your porch into the cool air. You'd recognize him anywhere, even if it was just a silhouette of the back of his head at sundown on your doorstep, which was one of the last places you expected to see him.

He slowly turned to face you, a nearly-spent joint between his lips that were curled into a smug smirk. He looked you up and down, admiring the fancy dress and blazer you were wearing.

"What do you want?" You asked, raising an eyebrow as the smell of marijuana filled your senses. This better be good. "You know, ma, I halfway didn't expect you to answer after looking through the peephole," Chris motioned towards the shut door behind you.

You and Chris both knew that in your intertwined lines of business that looking through the peephole in the door was always a must. You never knew who'd be on the other side.

"Hot date tonight?" He wondered, gesturing towards your outfit with the cherry-end of his joint. "Something like that. You better make this quick," you said, cutting through his tendency to beat around the bush and talk in a series of metaphors rather than getting to the point.

"Mind if I come in? I wanna talk to you about something. Business-related," Chris mumbled, blowing out a final puff of smoke and squashing the roach between the ground and his sneaker. You hesitantly let him inside your home, but mostly because you didn't want any passersby to hear your conversation.

"Before you say anything," you said, stopping him before he could speak. You shut the barrier between your living room and the outside world, and you kneeled down in front of him.

"Hey, woah. What are you doing, ma? If you wanted to give me a blow job, you could just ask," he chuckled, smiling down at you. "Ha ha. You're hilarious," you dryly answered, rolling your eyes.

You began to pat him down, starting at his ankles. You lifted his pantleg and unholstered his pistol, placing it on the coffee table next to you. "Come on, ma. You don't trust me?" He pouted at you. "Oh, not one bit," you responded, glancing up at him as you ran your palms across his lower stomach.

You pulled up his shirt a bit to reveal a glock tucked into the front of his jeans. You confiscated it and set it next to his first gun. Your hands moved to his pockets, pulling out his phone and a wad of cash and placing them all on your wooden table with his other belongings.

Chris rolled his eyes and smirked at you as you accidentally brushed against the bulge in his jeans. "Sorry," you mumbled, clearing your throat and standing back up.

You started to feel under his shirt, running your hands and across his chest. "Come on, ma. You got all my guns. What else are you looking for?" He chuckled, looking into your eyes for a few seconds too long. He couldn't deny that he was getting a little turned on by the way your fingers gently glided across his warm skin.

"A wire. I'm not an idiot, Sturniolo. Why the fuck else would you wanna talk?" You snarked back, returning his lingering gaze. There was a thick sexual tension in the air for just a moment.

"Whatever, ma. You really think I'm a rat?" Chris asked, sounding a bit offended and giving you a hurt expression. "Can't be too careful. You know that," you said, running your hands down his arms, trying to ignore how gorgeous his blue eyes were and how the veins on his forearms felt.

"Alright. Now that I know you're not here to bust me or rob me. What do you want, Chris?" You asked him, sounding annoyed. "You ever think about you and me?" Chris said in a low, raspy voice. "What? You come over to ask me on a date?" You laughed.

"That's not what I meant. You ever think about you and me working together?" Chris asked, clarifying his original question. "You know, it would have been less insane for you to ask me on a date," you chuckled in amusement, heading back over towards the door to walk him out.

"C'mon, ma. We could help each other out," Chris gently grabbed your arm to keep you from walking away. "I know I could help you out. How could you help me out?" You skeptically wondered, narrowing your gaze at Chris.

"I could offer you protection. A lady shouldn't be going on runs alone in this business without a man," Chris replied. "I don't need a man. I can hold my own," you shook your head fervently, crossing your arms and tightening your jaw. You were somewhat offended by his comment.

"I know you don't need a man, ma. Feminism and all that shit. But wouldn't it make you feel safer? Just to have someone to accompany you on your runs? Someone to help take the edge off?" Chris asked, giving you a smug look.

You knew he was right. Drug dealing was a man's world, and there had been many occasions where it would have been safer to have someone like Chris with you. You unclenched your jaw and relaxed your shoulders.

"What's in it for you?" You asked, smirking at him. You mulled over his offer, assuming you already knew the answer. "You know, ma. I'm trying to make more money. Work my way up," Chris smiled at you.

"I don't mean to be condescending, but Chris, you're just a low-level weed dealer. Do you have what it takes to sell the harder shit?" You cocked your head to the side, giving him an inquisitive look, your eyes dropping to his full lips. "You act like I don't know what I'm doing," Chris responded, giving you another hurt expression.

"Chris. Think about it like this. You're like a lawyer, and I'm like a surgeon," you replied, giving him a methaphor he'd understand. "Both valuable skill sets, but if I walk into your courtroom, my scalpel isn't gonna do shit, and if you walk into my ER, your law knowledge isn't going to help you perform an operation."

"Ma, let me prove to you that I have what it takes," Chris responded, confidence creeping into the corner of his lip in a sly smile as he took a step closer to you. You peered down at your watch.

Your connect hated it when you were running late, but even more than that, he hated when you brought unexpected company with you.

"I'm about to go meet my guy right now and make a deal," you hesitantly told him. "So, that's what you're all dressed up for? You got a crush on your connect, ma?" He asked as he motioned towards your dress, giving you a condescending grin and nudging you in the arm.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. "No, Chris. We're meeting somewhere nice. The goal is to not look out of place. Look, I think I have a blazer and some slacks that might fit you in my room. Let's get you changed, because you look like a fucking drug dealer," you chuckled.

"I'll call my guy and let him know a colleague is coming with me," you said, making your way for the staircase "Colleague? I like the sound of that," Chris nodded in approval, following behind you.

"Not yet, Chris. That's just what I'm gonna tell him to avoid having to explain the intricacies. Just keep your mouth shut and don't look them in the eyes for too long," you rolled your eyes at Chris, hastily heading towards your dimly lit bedroom. You opened your closet door and reached towards the back of the rack, pulling out a black suit.

"Here, try this on," you told Chris, handing it to him. He hung the suit over the back of your chair, pulled off his hoodie, and then took his shirt off. Your eyes danced over his shoulders and his chest in the soft lighting, and you subtly bit your lip as you studied his build.

You and Chris may not have exactly been friends. In fact, you'd had a history with him, and the two of you were more like enemies, but you couldn't deny how hot he was. "Mind giving me some privacy, ma?" He chuckled, starting to undo his belt.

"My bad," you said, shifting your gaze away from him and heading out of your room, closing the door behind you. You snuck one last glance at his body through the waning sliver in the door as you pulled it shut.

You went back downstairs to retrieve your suitcase, pulling the address up on your phone and scanning the directions.

A few minutes later, Chris came down. He stood in front of you, presenting the blazer and slacks that were just slightly too long for him, and the two of you giggled. "You know, it's not a perfect fit, but it's close enough," you replied, heading towards the door.

Chris followed, getting into the passenger seat as you pulled open your driver's side and climbed in beside him. You dialed your connect as you backed out of your driveway, turning on your headlights, and throwing your car in drive once you reversed out onto the main room.

"What's up? You on your way?" The man on the other end of the phone answered. "Yeah, just letting you know I'm bringing my business partner with me. We're about ten minutes away," you said, looking over at Chris who reached for his joint that he had tucked behind his ear, and as he went to light it, you smacked the lighter out of his hand.

"What the fuck?" Chris asked in a voice just above a whisper, furrowing his brow at you. "It's room 152 when you get here," your guy told you over the phone. "Okay, see you soon," you replied, ending the call and snatching the joint from him.

"You're not smoking that shit in my car. I swear to God, Chris, if we get pulled over and you give the pigs a reason to search us, not only will it be the last run you ever make with me, it'll be the last run either one of us makes period because we'll both be sitting in prison," you told him, tossing the joint into your cup holder.

"Relaaax," he told you, drawing out the word. "No. If you're working with me, you follow my rules. If you relax, you get complacent. This is exactly why I don't do runs with weed dealers," you stated, shaking your head and regretting your decision to let him join you on your reup.

"Okay, ma. Damn. I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was so serious," he said, raising his hands in a defensive position. "Never break more than one law at a time. If we're ever doing a reup, we use our turn signals, we go the speed limit, and we don't stink up the car with pot," you responded, paying more attention to the road than you were to Chris.

"Alright, ma. I got it," Chris said, his tone softening. "Also, I know you can get away with smoking some of your own shit, because you just sell weed, but when it comes to the hard stuff, you don't get high on your own supply," you said, letting him in on your code.

"You test the product out on your gums when we pick it up, but that's as close as you get to doing the stuff we sell. The shit we're messing with is highly addictive, and you don't want all your hard-earned money disappearing up your nose," you sternly told him. "Don't worry, ma. I only do the natural shit," Chris said, peering out the window at all the streetlights.

As the two of you pulled into a parking spot outside a fancy hotel, it started to drizzle outside. You put the car in park and reached over Chris, pulling your shotgun out of your glove box. You hiked up your dress and tucked your weapon into your lace garter.

"Damn, ma. That thigh holster is kinda sexy," Chris rasped, his eyes drawn to your legs. You scoffed and narrowed your gaze at him, trying to act disgusted by his comment.

"Turn off your cell. Let me do the talking. I've only been doing business with this guy for about a year, but if he knows this is our first deal together, he'll call the whole thing off," you said, ignoring him and looking dead into his eyes before reaching for your suitcase in the backseat. He nodded at you.

"I'm trusting you, Chris. Don't fuck this up. This is a $300,000 deal that's gonna make me $150k in profit if I play my cards right." Chris' eyes widened. He'd never bought $300,000 worth of weed. Maybe in his lifetime, but not in one run.

The two of you got out of the car, and Chris snatched the joint back from out of your cup holder after turning off his phone and tucked it back behind his ear. Your heels clicked against the pavement as you approached the entrance of the hotel.

The two of you walked through the crowded lobby undetected, making your way up a flight of stairs. You guys headed down the long corridor, both sets of your shoes hitting the hideous paisley-printed carpet beneath you.

You approached the room, knocking softly on the door, and a few seconds later, your connect answered. He looked at both of you, looked both ways down the long hallway, and motioned for you guys to enter. "Okay, I got your stuff. You got my money?" Your supplier asked, presenting a suitcase on the hotel bed that was nearly identical to yours.

There were two men in sunglasses and nice suits who were standing behind him. You acknowledged them each with a nod out of respect, and your eyes wandered back over to your dealer. "It's all right here," you said, tossing your suitcase onto the bed beside his.

The two men in the room popped open the case and started running your cash through a money counter. Chris had been in the drug world for a few years, but he'd never seen so much money all at once, and he certainly hadn't met any dealers that had money counters on hand.

"Hey, I'm Chris. 'Sup gentleman?" Chris acknowledged the other two men as well. "What's your name?" Chris asked, extending his hand and smiling at your connect. "Uh. Miles," he hesitantly replied, glancing between both you and Chris.

Shit, you thought, widening your eyes and thinking about how you were going to ream Chris after this deal for not keeping his mouth shut.

"How you doing, Miles? I know my girl here is a loyal customer of yours, but I just wanted to let you know that I gotta guy that can get us the same shit for about $100k less. I know my girl here doesn't wanna take her business elsewhere, but I've been trying to convince her, because it's kind of a steal," Chris said.

Your jaw slightly fell open, still stunned that Chris was so comfortable talking to such high profile dealers he'd just met. "Who? Is it Diablo, man? That asshole is always trying to take my customers!" Miles slammed his fist down on the table.

"You know I don't like to name names in this industry. You're nicer to deal with anyway. I just was wondering if you could maybe sweeten the deal for us?" Chris asked, pulling the joint out from behind his ear and extending it as an offering.

"If you can knock down the price for us, I'm going to be helping my girl move this shit, so we'll do it twice as fast and be back to buy more in half the time. You'd be making money, really. Then you and your boys can share this joint in celebration of how much abundance and wealth you're going to see this year," Chris smirked.

Miles was silent for a moment as if he were actually mulling over the idea. He peered back at his men, who were both too stunned to speak, but they all shrugged and then silently nodded in agreement. "What do you say? $200k?" Chris inquired, raising his eyebrows and looking between the three men.

"I can't go that low. I got people to pay," Miles sternly shook his head. "How about $250,000?" Chris asked. "How about $275k, and I throw in an extra couple of kilos?" Miles offered. "What do you think, ma? Sound like a deal to you?" Chris asked, acknowledging that this was your deal, and that the final say was ultimately up to you.

Miles shifted his gaze towards you. You were dumbfounded and at a loss for words, but you nodded in response. "Alright. Pleasure doing business, Miles," Chris passed Miles the joint and gave him another stern handshake.

The two men opened up the suitcase they were handing off to you and put back $25,000 along with another two kilos of white powder that were strategically bagged tightly and wrapped snugly in plastic.

Chris' eyes subtly widened as his gaze traveled to the drugs. He had only seen cocaine a few times in his life, and it had always been in small quantities. Never 12 kilos worth. But he managed to keep his composure, hoping they couldn't detect that this was the first deal of this magnitude that Chris had closed, and they didn't.

"You don't mind if I test it, do you?" Chris asked, motioning towards the substance. "Not at all," Miles said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small baggy. He shook a bit of it out into Chris' palm. Chris licked his finger, dipped it into the powder, and ran it along his gums.

"Alright, Miles. This is some good shit," Chris complimented him, and the two of you made your way out the door, suitcase in hand, and you guys glided down the steps and out through the lobby doors.

"Holy shit, ma. I didn't know how much I could feel my teeth until I couldn't," Chris mumbled, surprised by the effects of the cocaine as the two of you stepped out into the rain.

It wasn't until you were each sitting side-by-side in the car that you finally spoke up. "Chris, how did you learn to do that?" You asked, peering over at him, the rain pitter pattering on your windshield. "I know how to talk to people," Chris nonchalantly told you, a smirk playing in the corner of his lip as he shrugged.

"Wait. Who's your other guy who could get it for $200k?" You asked, wrinkling your brows. "There is no other guy," Chris shrugged. "Just used a fake story as leverage. But now I know he has an enemy who's always stealing his clientele, Diablo. You know, kinda like how we were when you were just selling weed," Chris playfully nudged you in the arm.

"What were you going to do if he didn't budge?" You asked, searching his face for answers. "That's the thing. They always budge. He doesn't want to lose out on a sale," Chris told you. You stared at him in silent awe for a few seconds.

"Do you have any idea how much profit you just made me?" You asked him. "I've never been good at math, but I have a vague idea. I wanna split it. 50/50," he gave you a smug look. "How about 40/60," you suggested, raising an eyebrow at him. "Deal," he said without hesitation.

"Chris. That was single-handedly the hottest thing I've ever seen a man do," you admitted, your gaze dancing from his blue eyes to his pouty smile. You wanted to tear his clothes off right then and there and fuck him senseless in the back seat.

"I know, ma. I know. By the way, you owe me a joint."

click to read chapter 2 ✨️

taglist: @skye-44 @bsturnzmtts @sturniolo-girl @theyluvme-2315 @jassturn @brookiecookie-18 @maggot3647 @slut4chriztopher @strnlslvr @sleepysturniolo @lvrsturniolo @sofieeeeex @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @matts-myloverboy @witchofthehour @slutforsturniolosss @sturniolosweetheart33 @whoahoahoahoahoa @ilovechrissturniolosposts @smt-obsessed @sturnioloxlver @that1fangirll @hrtz4alex2211 @luvhsien @sp3ncerslvt @sturniolo-munch44 @jakewebberswifee @ssturniolooss @thenickgurl @sturniolo-fann @sst7niolo @babysturniolo @chestersturniolo @riowritesitall @camzeecorner @mattsturnixlo @annedebeijer @scorpioosworld @mattlover-00 @sweetlikesug4rvenom @m11rx @sturniolocharms @mickelodeon-2003 @sigmarizzler1 @chrislova @stellarsturns @lelesturniolo @sturniolodoll @ilovemattsturn @blahbel668

[chris-prank]

Ya i need to punish Dr. Seraph for ruining my plans/ripping my hero suit. Clothes are very expensive these days :(

So we tear his off and pound into him :3 !! ^^ ❤️❤️💯💯😍😍🔥🔥

Sub Yandere villain sidekick x Top GN hero reader

CW: NSFW, doggy style, top reader and slight teasing

So I got carried away and ended up writing around 1K words of smut…

Just like last time the reader is GN, it’s vague enough so you can choose if the reader has a dick or a strap-on.

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

“Do you know how much it costs to make a superhero suit? And don’t even get me started on the anonymous fees!”

Real frustration could be heard in your voice as the unpleasant memories of dealing with your supplier came to mind. But you swiftly chased them away to focus back on the man tied up under you.

“I’m s-sorry, if I k-knew I would ha—”

You placed your finger on his lips, shutting him up immediately.

“I don’t want shallow excuses or explanations, I want you to repay me properly.”

Dr. Seraph looked up at you with confusion. He knew what your intentions were, you had made them abundantly clear, yet he couldn’t connect the dots. How is him being tied up with bondage tape directly related to destroying your suits? Furthermore, he was wondering why you even had bondage tape in the first place! The mad scientist wasn’t complaining of course, but it’s not like it was efficient to apprehend criminals in any way, except…

You must have brought it with you just for this specific outcome! That’s it! You had planned on taking him for yourself! Oh, how quickly he convinced himself this was the truth and how flattered he was about it. And no matter how insane this conclusion was, he was indeed right.

He waited for you to take your finger off him to ask for clarification, but before he could open his mouth you effortlessly flipped him on his stomach, making the man yelp. You weren’t finished as you grabbed his hips, pressing his backside against your pelvis. That was enough to make this genius's brain go blank. He was already turned on by the predicament he had found himself in, but now a primitive desire had taken over any sense of logic he still possessed.

“Since you seem to love ruining my superhero suits, I think it's time for me to do the same with your uniform. That's the only punishment I’ll accept.” You caress his waist back and forth before adding, “I’m sure you’re fine with that, right?”

“Mm..y-yes.” He responded with a feeble voice.

You smiled to yourself, happy that he was so responsive. You took a handful of the fabric in your fist and pulled. His pants ripped apart like paper, making you feel like you were unwrapping a birthday gift. You tore until every inch of his private parts was exposed. The man gasped at this vulgar sight and buried his head back into the pillow.

You, on the contrary, admired your work. In this position, Vincent had the most perfect arched back and his ruined pants gave him a particular disheveled look. Soon enough, you had taken off your suit from the waist down, tossing it to the side without a care. A rush of excitement came to you when you felt Dr. Seraph pressing himself against your groin while letting out subtle whimpers.

You grope both of his ass cheeks as a response, before spreading them apart. With precise movements, you poured lubricant on top of it and prevented it from leaking all the way down by spreading it on his asshole. You stopped and instead rubbed your tip against his entrance to make it wet as well. After you were done, It was slightly glistening in the dim light of the room. By now, his noises had gotten louder, his legs trembling in anticipation.

“Are you ready Vincent?”

Hearing you say his real name made his cock and hole twitch.

“P-please, p-put it in.” He whined, impatience filling his voice.

He had already put aside the fact that this was supposed to be a punishment. He didn’t care if you destroyed his clothes, he had other ones, but there was only one you. Hell, he would let you tear down his entire wardrobe if it meant he could be fucked by you every night.

You grab his hips with one hand, making sure he would stay up right, and you positioned yourself with the other to stuff him full. Vincent threw his head back and cried out a lewd moan as your cock disappeared in his ass. You weren’t even down to the base that he was already gripping the sheets, nails digging through it. You also noticed it had gone in easy, a bit too easy even considering the lub.

“Someone has been preparing himself for me.” You teased, sinking deeper inside him.

Blood shot directly to the man’s face and to his cock, much to his embarrassment. He was already rock-hard, but the simple fact of implying that he has been stretching his insides for you, almost made him cum on the spot.

“Nggf…I-I didn’t…A-aahh! Mng—”

“Oh but you’ve been fucking yourself at the thought of me, haven’t you?” One of your hands grabbed onto his dick, giving it a few strokes while you added, “don’t worry I’m not mad.”

Vincent tried to hold in a sob by biting down his lips, as the mix of both different kinds of pleasure assaulted his nervous system. Though, nothing could prevent the tears from rolling down his eyes and into his mouth while he tried to answer you, emphasis on “tried”.

“Y—Mngh…” He couldn’t finish his sentence, as he felt your pelvis against his butt, meaning ou were completely inside him.

You waited until the mess of a man had visibly relaxed, before pulling back and thrusting inside again with more speed. The sounds of flesh smacking together and Vincent’s moan filled your ears like a melody. The way you bucked against him without mercy was contrasted with your thumb gently rubbing his hips in a praise like gesture.

There was one thing that was bothering you, as you glared at the upper half of his body. You had rolled up his coat a little when you were massaging his waist earlier, yet it wasn’t enough. You took the base of his uniform and ripped it in half all the way to his neck, the roll of your hips never faltering. Satisfied, you bent down and kissed his newly bare shoulders.

“That’s much better, don’t you think?” You took the chance to nibble there too, “And now your outfit is ruined, just like all my suits.”

“Nnhg Uh-uhh.” Whines and moans, mixing together as Vincent wished to speak.

You smile against his skin, satisfied with this little punishment.

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

I tried to match your freak, so I hope you enjoyed it 💅🏻

(Oh and I can tell you that Dr. Seraph will have a lot of explaining to do the next day when he arrives in a wheelchair at a meeting.)

[luckyblackcatxiii]

🔥🧺IT'S THE HELL IN A HANDBASKET SALE!!!🧺🔥

So I'm not going to any cons any time soon and given the current state of the US, I've decided to sell what stock I have of items I normally save for special events. While I'll be selling what I have on hand, if interest exceeds what I have I'll change items to a pre-order status. You can find the store HERE!

Because of how uncertain things are here though--especially in relation to world trade and shipping--I'm keeping this open for only two weeks (ending April 20th at Midnight [EST]).

PLEASE NOTE: There is no pressure to buy and I'm not trying to fear monger anyone into sales. Things are just extremely uncertain these days and I don't want to chance waiting too long where it may cause issues for my customers, suppliers and myself. I intend to keep making things but whether I'll be able to supply future merch...we'll see! (We may move our base of operations to Canada if need be)

[expressbankingservice]

Oberlo Dropshipping: Streamlining Your E-commerce Success"

Oberlo has revolutionized the dropshipping industry by offering a seamless platform that integrates with e-commerce platforms like Shopify, making it easier than ever for entrepreneurs to start and scale their online businesses. With Oberlo, entrepreneurs can quickly import products from suppliers, customize their storefronts, and automate order fulfillment, allowing them to focus on growing…

[taliabhattwrites]

Less Fearmongering about Testosterone, Please, Or: There is no "Boy HRT"/"Girl HRT" Dichotomy

Hello folks, I'm a trans woman and I'm on testosterone gel.

As an immigrant to a regime that is currently setting trans standards of care on fire, there is no way I can acquire any of the drugs I need to put in my body through the official channels. I've been on E monotherapy (weekly injections, no T-blocker, works out really cheap and I have a few years' worth stockpiled) for a while now, and started T-gel about a year ago.

We initially grabbed it because my wife was interested in microdosing and I decided to do so with her (though she's on injections now). Most feminizing HRT regimes nuke our T levels to lower than the healthy range for cis women, and that frankly isn't good and can lead to various health issues. T is, ultimately, just a hormone, and even if I had too much of it in the past, I still need some of it to be healthy. One noticeable effect for me is that it's helped a lot with my energy levels.

In terms of acquisition, T is actually relatively abundant compared to E because a lot of cis men buy and take steroids, while most cis women who need E are just getting it prescribed by their doctors without much fuss. Our community is the only one that really has a need for E-compounders, while the population of people who consume steroids is way higher.

Funnily, our biggest challenge in acquiring the gel was just finding a forum that would point us to a gel supplier instead of just insisting that "Gel doesn't lead to enough gains, bro! Here just buy these injections." All very well-intentioned advice, of course, but that was very much not my goal and not what I needed.

Where I am, it's legal to purchase and own T, just not to sell it. T possession is not particularly harshly cracked down upon, given that its use amongst a certain crowd is basically an open secret. Gauge your level of risk but ultimately, the official policy on trans existence is discouraging transition and making it harder for us to be able to change our sex. A friend from Germany showed me this extract that explicitly advocates for therapy to dissuade bodily transition:

It's from the guidelines for transition-related care by the association of German health insurances!

If you can get it from a doctor, good. Do that and don't forget you'll constantly have to advocate for yourself. Even if you can, however, you should frankly have your back-up options sorted out, because we live in times increasingly hostile to transitional care, and we all need to have fallbacks.

Maybe the world will eventually become less trans-eliminationist, but in the meantime, transition is always going to carry with it a certain level of risk. All I can really advise is to take charge of your own bodily autonomy, to decide how you want to shape your sex, and if you feel like you can't currently do that, to start making plans for when you eventually can. That kept me going for five years in the closet, and eventually paid off.

Good luck, and death before detransition.

[i-am-aprl]

Yale students protesting their varsity’s military investments sing “I ain’t going to study war no more”.

Dozens of students have been arrested across the US as students rally in support of Palestine on university campuses. Demonstrating students are calling on their universities to divest from arms suppliers and Israel-related investments.

Via @hiddenpalestine

[just-aake]

Everlasting Devotion - Part XII

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Sequel of Boundless Devotion Series. MedievalAU. With her coronation over, Natasha is now the queen of the Romanov Kingdom. However, the position comes with challenges from both old and new enemies as Natasha tries to maintain the peace while also navigating her relationship with you.

Masterlist Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13

Warnings: light angst

Words: 5160

Natasha sits at her desk in her private study, her chin resting on her hand against the armrest of the chair as her eyes remain fixed on the dull, cracked stone on the table before her. 

The room is quiet, save for the distant hum of the bustling castle outside as the staff work to prepare for the upcoming birthday celebration of their queen. 

But Natasha’s attention isn’t on any of the preparations or details–she already told her mother the idea she had for the party so that she and you could enjoy the day despite your current hidden relationship. 

At the moment, however, her thoughts swirl as she considers the mysterious stone.

It’s clearly meant to hold some form of power, though not well it would seem, seeing how the surface fractured so easily when it simply fell to the ground.

As if it was barely able to contain the energy within. 

Based on what she has seen, her best guess is that this stone must be related to some sort of sorcery. 

She taps her fingers lightly against the desk, replaying the events in her mind. 

The effects of being around it—whatever they were—didn’t feel natural. Its ability to influence the mind like the way it did to her, to stir vivid memories as if she was back in that moment again, is too dangerous to ignore.

Then, there is another concerning issue.

Her brow furrows as she recalls the brief, vacant expression on your face when she had stopped you from touching it and the way you seemed disoriented before snapping back to yourself, with no memory of what had happened.

Despite your reassurance, the unease lingers in her chest even now as she considers the possible explanations. 

What’s worrying is that it reminded her too much of the effects of Dreykov’s Widow methods—the blank stares, the lack of control, the erasure of one’s will. 

Natasha’s heart clenches at the memory of when Dreykov had used you against her, forcing you to try to hurt her while under his control. 

She shakes her head at the possibility. 

No, it’s not the same. 

Dreykov is still imprisoned, and without a handler to activate any lingering programming, you shouldn’t be at risk. 

And yet…this stone did something. 

Her fingers curl into a fist as she resolves not to let history repeat itself. 

Whatever this is, she will find a way to protect you from it. 

Natasha picks up the stone, holding it closer to the light. Its surface glimmers faintly, but it offers no clues to its origin. She sighs and places it back down, frustration creeping in. 

The kingdom has so little knowledge about sorcery. There are no experts she can consult, no archives to scour for answers, no next step for her to turn to.

Natasha pauses, straightening in her chair, as she suddenly remembers that there is one person she can ask for help.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the thud of a stack of papers landing on her desk. 

Startled, she looks up to see Steve standing beside her, his expression serious but kind.

“These are the documents we found at Sitwell’s home,” he says, gesturing to the pile. “It’s enough to confirm his and Rumlow’s dealings against the kingdom.”

Natasha sifts through the papers, her eyes scanning the incriminating evidence. But as she nears the bottom of the stack, her frown deepens.

“There’s nothing here about who they were working with,” she mutters, frustration evident in her voice.

Steve nods grimly. 

“No names, no locations. Just references to ‘the supplier’ and ‘the broker.’ Whoever they are, they’ve covered their tracks well.”

Natasha leans back in her chair, pinching the bridge of her nose as she summarizes the situation aloud.

“So we’re dealing with two unknown enemies—one who’s after the secrets of the Black Widow operations and another after this stone and whatever weapons are tied to it.”

She lets out a deep sigh. 

“And in the middle of it all is Y/n.”

Her voice softens slightly at your name, but the worry in her tone is unmistakable.

“This can’t get any worse,” she sighs again, shaking her head.

Steve’s sharp inhale makes her snap her gaze to him, her eyes narrowing in warning.

“What is it?” she asks, apprehension in her voice.

Steve hesitates, his jaw tightening before he answers.

“It seems word has spread about Sitwell’s death—and about a certain someone who was also spotted in a tavern near there around the same time. People among the houses and the kingdom are starting to connect the dots, or at least trying to.”

Natasha’s face hardens as she rises from her chair, slamming her hands on the desk.

“They’re trying to blame her for his death?” she exclaims, disbelief and anger coloring her voice. “The report clearly states what happened!”

Steve raises his hands in a placating gesture. 

“We omitted Lady Y/n’s presence at the scene in the official report, but we can’t hide the fact that many people did recognize her in that area. And with her current reputation, people are eager to jump to conclusions and conspiracies that she was involved in some way.”

Natasha’s fists clench as she glares at the papers on her desk, her mind racing. 

The thought of you being unfairly targeted, of such false whispers about your character spreading like wildfire through the kingdom, makes her blood boil. 

“They don’t know her,” Natasha says fiercely, her voice low but trembling with emotion. “They don’t know what she’s been through.”  

Steve places a steadying hand on her shoulder, his voice calm but tinged with sadness.

“People always look for someone to blame, someone to fear,” he says. “It’s easier than facing a real monster.”

His words are filled with a sense of understanding and sympathy that Natasha notices.

“Her situation reminds you of someone?” she comments, her tone quieter but no less probing. “How is Bucky anyway?”

Steve hesitates, his eyes betraying a flicker of hesitancy before answering simply. 

“He’s doing good.”

He doesn’t offer any more information about the man than that.

Natasha doesn’t mind, but she still presses on, deciding to confront him on the question that has lingered in her mind since she heard about it.

“Bucky told me how you stopped him from killing the Stark princess.” 

His eyes widen in surprise at the sudden topic, but she continues before he can speak. 

“What exactly happened after that?”

Steve regards her for a moment before he exhales heavily, his shoulders sagging slightly in resignation as he recalls the past events. 

“After she was taken, Bucky and I tried to find her,” he admits. “We searched for days, but after what happened, Stark declared him as a fugitive. Anyone found helping him would be seen as an enemy of the kingdom. And with the peace treaty still newly established…”

“Bucky went into hiding,” Natasha finishes. 

“I convinced him to,” Steve confirms. “Told him I’d keep looking for her after he left, but the search was called off soon after.”

Natasha furrows her brows at the revelation. She thought only Steve and Bucky were the ones who knew about the Stark princess being alive.

“Called off? By who?”

Steve’s expression tightens in hesitance before he answers.

“Your mother was the one who ended the search.”

Silence falls in the room as Natasha stares at him, her mind reeling as she processes the implications of his words.

Her mother had known the Stark princess was alive. And yet, she had kept it a secret for all these years.

A new unease settled in Natasha’s chest.

If her mother had been willing to hide something this important…

What else did she know?

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Your hands cradle the sides of the cup, seeking comfort in its warmth, but it does little to calm the unease twisting inside you.

Steam curls softly in the dimly lit cabin, dissipating into the still air as you finally glance up, bracing yourself for the reaction.

Across the small table, Bucky leans back in his chair, his expression unreadable.

His gaze is steady and fixed on you—not angry, but filled with the quiet patience of someone who has seen too much.

“I wasn’t joking when I told you not to touch things you don’t understand yet,” he finally says, his voice calm but firm.

You wince at the reprimand, lowering your gaze to the cup in your hands.

“It’s not like I did it on purpose,” you murmur. “One moment, I was behind Natasha, and the next…she’s telling me I hit her.”

Your fingers tighten around the cup as the memory flashes in your mind.

The faint glow of the stone had drawn your gaze, an inexplicable pull you couldn’t resist.

And then—nothing.

A lapse in time. A gap in your memory.

But this time, it was different.

Your voice drops to a whisper, raw with fear and dread.

“Bucky, I hurt someone this time. Someone I care about. What if next time it’s worse?”

His features soften in understanding at your tone. He exhales, leaning forward to rest his forearm on the table.

“You haven’t talked to Wanda about this?”

You shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“That’s…related to another problem I need to tell you about,” you admit hesitantly.

Bucky raises an eyebrow, waiting.

You inhale sharply before confessing, “The person I hired to fix the gates is actually Tony Stark. He’s in the kingdom.”

Bucky doesn’t react right away. His face remains unreadable as he considers your words carefully.

“Huh,” he mutters at last. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s always had a knack for showing up when you least expect it.”

His calmness catches you off guard.

“You’re not worried?” you ask cautiously.

Bucky offers a wry smile.

“I’ve been running long enough to know how to stay ahead,” he sighs, glancing around the cabin. “Doesn’t mean I like it, but I can handle it.”

He studies you curiously.

“How did you figure out who he was?”

You scoff, shaking your head at the memory.

“He practically bragged about his identity when I confronted him,” you say, exasperation lacing your voice. “I’ve never met someone who manages to compliment himself in almost every other breath.”

Bucky smirks, nostalgia flickering in his expression.

“Sounds like him. Guess some things never change.”

His demeanor shifts, his amusement fading as he leans back in his chair.

“So…does he know who you really are?”

You hesitate, looking back down at your cup.

“No,” you admit before sighing. “And I don’t think I should tell him.”

With Tony in the kingdom for peace treaty discussions, revealing the truth would only complicate things—especially for Natasha. You can’t risk him finding out that his sister had been taken by one of her own people for all these years.

Bucky observes you for a moment before suggesting lightly, “What about the twins then?”

Your head snaps up, eyes wide in disbelief.

“What? No. Those two, especially, cannot know.”

His expression softens, understanding your apprehension.

“You said the three of you grew up together like siblings. I doubt finding out who you really are would change that.”

Your throat tightens in fear at the thought.

“Stark soldiers killed their parents, Bucky,” you remind him, your voice cracking slightly. “How can I ask them to see past that?”

Bucky sighs quietly with sympathy before answering.

“Because they know you. Not the kingdom. Not the name—you.” He pauses, his gaze steady and sure. “If anyone understands that, it’s them.”

Silence settles between you. Your fingers trace the rim of your cup as you wrestle with the thought.

“I just…I don’t think I can do it.”

Bucky sighs, but he doesn’t push further.

“At least consider having Wanda check on you,” he suggests. “If you’re still worried about what’s happening with your memories.”

You take a slow breath before nodding, reluctant but willing.

Bucky studies you for a moment before asking, “Are you still going to keep looking into that stone?”

A small, determined smile tugs at your lips.

“I need to figure out what’s happening. You said it yourself—I have to understand how it works. If I can do that, I can learn to control it.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Bucky deadpans, shaking his head. “I understand you want to regain some sort of control of the situation, but are you sure this is the best way to handle it?”

“I don’t know,” you admit honestly. “But I know I’ll figure it out.”

He watches you for a long moment before nodding.

“All right. Just…be careful.”

You offer him a grateful smile before your expression turns more serious.

“What about you? Are you going to leave now that Tony’s here?”

Bucky is silent for a moment as he considers his response, looking around at his home in contemplation before facing you again.

“Have you told anyone else about what’s happening with you?”

You look away, hesitating. Talking with Bucky about this has always been easier than others since you know he understands what it was like not being in control.

With a soft sigh, you shake your head in response.

His expression softens, something gentle flickering in his eyes.

“Then I’m staying.”

Your eyes widen slightly, looking up at him.

“Bucky—”

“I’ll be careful,” he assures you before you can protest. “You gave me a heads-up, and I appreciate it. The least I can do is be here for you.”

His words hit you harder than expected. After everything—the whispers, the distrust, the isolation—it’s not something you’re used to hearing recently.

“You don’t have to, you know.”

“I know,” Bucky replies with a small smirk. “But someone has to remind you that you’re not alone. We have to look out for each other—to protect the people we care about.”

A quiet laugh escapes you, the weight on your shoulders lifting just a little.

“Thanks, Bucky.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha slows her horse to a stop at the entrance of your manor. Swinging down smoothly, she lands lightly on her feet, her eyes assessing the newly installed gate.

The sturdy iron bars gleam under the sunlight, their intricate patterns hinting at the work of a master craftsman. A stark improvement from the wreckage that once stood in its place.

Whoever you had hired had done an impressive job.

A voice from behind pulls her from her thoughts.

“Queen Natasha.”

She turns to find Wanda approaching, a woven basket hanging on her arm. Beside her stands a man Natasha doesn’t recognize—tall, poised, his presence exuding quiet intelligence. He carries himself with effortless grace, his thoughtful gaze studying Natasha as much as she studies him.

Natasha offers a small nod in greeting. 

“Hello, Wanda.” Her gaze shifts to the stranger. “And I don’t believe we’ve ever met.”

Before Wanda can respond, the man steps forward with a polite and respectful tilt of his head.

“Vision,” he introduces himself smoothly. “A…friend of Wanda’s.”

Natasha eyes him carefully, her instincts sharpening. There’s something calculated about him, as if he chooses his words with great care. But she doesn’t comment on it.

“What brings you here?” Wanda asks, her tone polite but cool.

Natasha takes out a sealed envelope from her side, the royal hourglass crest embossed in the wax.

“I came to deliver an invitation for Y/n,” she says. “For my birthday celebration.”

Wanda glances at the envelope and then meets Natasha’s gaze.

“She’s not home at the moment,” she says, pausing briefly before adding. “She’s visiting a friend.”

Natasha nods in understanding, already suspecting where you might be.

“Then I’ll leave this with you.” She extends the envelope. “This invitation is also extended to you and Pietro if you wish to attend.”

Wanda takes it without comment, tucking it away. Her gaze lingers on Natasha, assessing.

“If that’s all, Your Majesty, then perhaps you should return home.”

Natasha’s lips twitch in amusement at Wanda’s bluntness, but she doesn’t move. 

“Actually,” she says, tilting her head slightly, “I was hoping to ask for your help.”

Wanda’s brows knit in surprise. 

“My help? With what?”

Natasha reaches into her satchel once more, this time retrieving a familiar object—the cracked stone. She holds it between them, its fractured surface dull, absent of the eerie glow it once emitted.

Wanda’s entire demeanor shifts. Her fingers tighten around the handle of her basket, her expression darkening.

Natasha studies her reaction before continuing.

“I need your help proving a theory of mine.”

Wanda’s gaze locks onto the stone, recognition flaring in her eyes.

“And you want me to do what, exactly?” 

“Channel some of your magic into it,” Natasha explains, keeping her voice measured. “I believe this stone is meant to hold a sorcerer’s power, but I don’t know the extent of its capabilities.”

Wanda doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, she looks at the fractured gem with barely concealed wariness.

“I don’t know if I’m comfortable with that,” she finally says, a note of hesitation in her voice. “We have no idea what could happen.”

Before Natasha can push further, Vision steps forward, his voice even and composed.

“I must agree,” he says, eyes flicking over the fractured surface. “The stone, in its current state, would likely fail to contain her magic. The cracks compromise its integrity.”

Natasha shifts her attention to him, her sharp gaze narrowing slightly.

“You seem well-versed in this subject.” 

Vision offers a polite smile. 

“My family has studied sorcery and its potential for generations.”

From his pocket, he produces a small, glowing yellow stone—no larger than a pendant. The energy within it hums faintly, vibrating with an unseen force. 

“This was given to me by my brother before he disappeared,” Vision says, gazing at it with a flicker of nostalgia. “It holds only a remnant of power, but when I concentrate, I can still feel his presence.” 

Natasha studies the tiny stone—a miniature echo of the one in her hand. Vision’s words confirm her suspicion: these stones were meant to contain a sorcerer’s magic.

But that revelation brings an unsettling realization.

“Does that mean the power in these stones could be wielded by anyone?” she asks, voicing her thoughts aloud. “Even those without magic?”

Vision nods thoughtfully. 

“Theoretically, yes—if the vessel is strong enough to contain it. However, its effects would also depend on the source.” He gestures subtly toward Wanda. “For instance, Wanda possesses extraordinary strength and versatility in her powers.”

Natasha doesn’t miss the admiration in Vision’s voice or the way Wanda’s expression softens as she glances at Vision—the quiet smile she offers him. 

But she pushes past the moment, turning to Wanda with renewed urgency.

“Can we speak alone for a moment?” 

Vision catches the cue, offering a courteous nod before excusing himself. He strolls past the gates, hands clasped behind his back, leaving the two of them in private.

Once he’s out of earshot, Natasha’s expression shifts, her voice lowering.

“How is she?” she asks, cutting past the pleasantries. “Really?” 

Wanda crosses her arms, her posture becoming defensive.

“She’s fine,” she answers curtly. “Aside from the ridiculous rumors that she had something to do with Lord Sitwell’s death.” 

Natasha exhales slowly. She had anticipated this, but hearing it aloud cements the weight of it.

“I didn’t expect this to lead back to her.”

Wanda’s eyes darken, her stance firm. 

“You should have.” There’s a bite to her words. “With how people already treat her, it doesn’t take much for them to paint her as a villain.”

The unspoken accusation isn’t lost on Natasha.

Still, she meets Wanda’s gaze evenly.

“That’s why I came—to make sure she’s okay.” Her voice is softer now, more genuine. “Have you noticed anything…strange about her lately? Any unusual behaviors?”

A flicker of protectiveness and outrage flashes across Wanda’s face.

“What are you implying?” she demands. “That she’s not herself?”

Natasha hesitates. She doesn’t want to question your state of mind either. But after what she saw, she can’t ignore it. 

“Something happened to Y/n in town,” she admits. “I don’t like the thought of her mind being affected again either. But after everything, isn’t it worth checking?”

For a moment, it seems like Wanda is about to argue further, but as she considers Natasha’s question and the concern in her tone, her defensive posture relax slightly, though her resolve remains firm.

“She’s fine,” Wanda repeats. “I made sure Dreykov’s influence in her mind can’t be used again, and I’ve checked multiple times before.”

Natasha watches her closely for a long moment before slowly nodding.

“Alright, if you’ve already checked it out,” she says, pausing to gauge the truth in Wanda’s expression. “I’ll trust you. We all care about Y/n’s safety, after all.”

Wanda’s gaze sharpens, the weight of something unspoken pressing between them.

“Do you?” she asks quietly. “Because it really doesn’t feel that way—not with how you’ve been handling things.”

Natasha’s lips press into a thin line, but she doesn’t argue. She understands where Wanda’s anger is coming from.

Instead, she simply says, “We’re on the same side here, Wanda.”

Wanda’s eyes search hers, looking for something—anything—to convince her of that. But in the end, she only shakes her head, her expression unreadable.

“I wish I could believe that.”

With that, she turns and walks into the manor, leaving Natasha standing alone, the weight of unease settling deeper in her chest.

And for the first time in a long while, she wonders if you feel the same way.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

After leaving Bucky’s cabin, you return to the manor, your mind a whirlwind of unease and resolve. 

The stone in your possession is still a mystery, and if there was anyone who could help you decipher it, it was the man currently hammering away in the makeshift tent out front. 

As you approach, the sharp clang of metal against metal echoes into the cool evening air. 

The tent, hastily set up near the manor’s entrance, is cluttered with half-finished contraptions, schematics, and tools strewn across multiple surfaces. A warm glow flickers from the hanging lanterns, casting long shadows over the disarray. 

Pushing aside the front flap, you step in.

Tony is hunched over a worktable, humming an offbeat tune as he shapes a small piece of metal. Sparks dance off the edges as he grinds it against a whetstone, the acrid scent of burning steel filling the air. 

He doesn’t acknowledge your presence, too absorbed in his work.

You make your way to the table, pausing just in front of him. When he still doesn’t look up, you pull the cracked stone from your pocket and set it down with a deliberate thud.

The impact silences the rhythmic clang of his tools.

Tony finally stops, his hands stilling as his gaze flicks to the stone, then to you. A single brow lifts in curiosity.

“I need to understand how this works,” you state, gesturing at the fractured stone. “Your friend mentioned how you once tried to create something like it but failed.”

Tony scoffs, setting his tools aside as he straightens to his full height. His arms cross over his chest, an air of casual arrogance settling around him.

“First of all, I didn’t fail,” he corrects, wagging a finger at you. “I chose to stop. There’s a difference.”

You furrow your brows slightly at the revelation. 

“Why did you stop?”

“Conflict of interest,” he replies vaguely, leaving little room for elaboration as he waves off the question. Then he tilts his head, scrutinizing you. “And second, even if I were to humor this little project of yours, what makes you think I’d need your help?”

You shift, fingers tightening around the object hidden behind your back.

“Because you couldn’t figure it out yourself,” you reply smoothly. 

Tony chuckles, the sound dripping with amusement.

“And you think you can?”

Your grip tightens around the charred book’s worn cover. 

“Yes,” you say evenly, “with your help. And with this.”

With deliberate slowness, you bring the book into view.

The second Tony’s eyes land on it, his entire demeanor shifts. His casual smirk falters, and his body tenses, fingers twitching like he’s resisting the urge to snatch it from your hands.

He takes a single step forward, pointing at the book.

“How do you have that?”

You take a step back, holding it just out of reach.

“It was given to me.”

His expression darkens.

“Well, that doesn’t belong to you. So hand it over.”

You raise a brow, unaffected by his sudden change in tone.

“Help me,” you counter, “and I’ll give this to you.”

His jaw tightens, his gaze flicking between the book and your face. The seconds stretch between you, thick with tension.

Then, with a long exhale, Tony crosses his arms and tilts his head.

“Alright,” he says simply. “You’ve got my attention.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

“Pietro, calm down. It’s not that big of a deal.”

You step into your room, the familiar space offering little comfort against the storm of emotions trailing in behind you.

Wanda looks up from where she stands beside your bed, momentarily pausing as she arranges another dress among the already spread-out collection. Her eyes flick to you, curiosity flickering in their depths.

Pietro follows in after you, hands waving in agitation, his movements restless.

“I just don’t get why you want them to stick around,” he huffs. “The gate’s already been fixed.”

You sigh, turning to face him, hands on your hips. Ever since you had revealed the news of Tony and Vision’s extended stay, Pietro had been nothing but vocal in his disapproval.

“I know you and Tony don’t get along, but—”

“It’s not just that,” Pietro interrupts, frustration evident in his voice. His fingers fumble inside his pocket before pulling something out. “Look, I searched through their things—”

“Pietro!” you exclaim, aghast. “You went through their belongings?”

He barely acknowledges your reprimand, stepping closer to show you a small scrap of fabric. You frown as you take it from him, running your fingers over the faded embroidery. 

The lines of an all-too-familiar sigil stand out against the fabric—Stark’s crest.

“They’re from the Stark kingdom,” Pietro says, voice laced with disapproval. “We can’t trust them.”

Your fingers tighten around the cloth as your gaze flickers away.

“They’re not bad people,” you say softly. “Not everyone from Stark is bad.” 

He scoffs in disbelief, rolling his eyes. 

“Sure. But do we have to involve them in our lives?”

You let out a tired sigh, realizing that Pietro’s resentment toward the kingdom was something you had anticipated but clearly underestimated.

“Bucky saved your life,” you remind him gently, hoping to reason with him. “Or did you forget he’s from Stark too?”

His expression twists at the mention of Bucky, as if the reminder conflicts within him. Crossing his arms, he shakes his head stubbornly.

“That’s different.”

“Come on, Pietro,” you try again, softening your tone. “Can’t you at least try to—” You hesitate, searching for the right words.

But Pietro is already shaking his head.

“Please, Y/n, don’t let them stay.” His voice is quieter now, almost pleading.

He looks at you with the same expression he wore as a child—the little boy who always counted on you to take his side.

You take a steady breath, grounding yourself before answering.

“I’m sorry, Pietro,” you say, firm yet gentle. “But it’s already done.” 

His lips press into a tight line.

For a second, it looks like he might argue further, but instead, he clenches his fists and exhales sharply through his nose. Without another word, he dashes off, the air around him rippling from the sheer force of his departure.

The lingering tension settles heavily in the space he leaves behind.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, exasperated.

“Wait—Pietro!”

The only response is the distant sound of his retreating footsteps.

You let out another sigh before turning to Wanda, who has remained silent throughout the entire exchange.

“Wanda,” you start. “Can you talk to him? You’ve been spending time with Vision—maybe you can convince him that they’re not all bad.”

When she doesn’t immediately respond, you glance at her more closely. She’s staring down at her hands, lost in thought. Her fingers twitch slightly, as if turning over something unseen.

“Wanda?” you call again.

She blinks, her gaze snapping up to meet yours.

“Can I look inside your mind?” she asks suddenly.

You freeze. Of all the things you expected her to say, that was not one of them.

A beat of silence passes between you.

Wanda, sensing your hesitation, quickly waves a hand. 

“I just want to make sure the block I put in place is still strong after all this time,” she clarifies, her voice even but her fingers fidgeting slightly.

You shift, glancing away.

For a moment, doubt grips you—not because you don’t trust Wanda, but because what if she sees too much? 

Wanda watches you closely, and when you don’t respond, her shoulders sag slightly.

“Never mind,” she says, softer now. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

You snap your gaze back to her, guilt tightening in your chest.

“No, it’s fine,” you say quickly.

Her eyes widen slightly in surprise. 

You take a steadying breath, shoving aside your apprehension. You know Wanda—know that she would never pry deeper than necessary. And more than anything, you don’t want her to think that her abilities should be feared.

You reach forward and take her hand, gripping it firmly. 

“I trust you, Wanda.”

A flicker of something unreadable crosses her face, but she nods, inhaling deeply before closing her eyes.

A soft red glow encircles her fingers before she brings them up to your temple.

The moment her power touches you, it’s as if a presence brushes against your mind—gentle, cautious. It doesn’t force its way in, merely drifts through the edges of your consciousness, skimming the surface like a ripple across water.

For a moment, an uneasy thought lingers—what if she sees the truth?

But Wanda does not pry deeper. She simply searches for what she needs.

After a moment, the red glow fades, and she withdraws her hand.

You look at her, your heart still hammering in your chest.

“Well?”

A smile breaks across her face.

“Everything’s good,” she assures you.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, the unease within you easing just a little.

“That’s good to hear.”

Your gaze shifts to the array of dresses and fabrics spread across the bed. Some fabrics are cut into smaller elaborate designs, while others are carefully pinned together, awaiting final touches.

You raise an eyebrow. “What’s all this?”

Wanda’s grin widens with excitement. She reaches for an envelope on your desk, holding it out to you. The opened seal bears Natasha’s family crest.

“To prepare for the Queen’s birthday celebration,” she reveals.

Then, in a playful gesture, she picks up a piece of fabric and drapes it over the upper half of her face.

“It’s going to be a masquerade.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13

a/n: Thank you for reading!

If you asked to be tagged and I missed it, please let me know again.

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[zipper-ghost]

Based on a fic I'm working on where Kim and Harry have to go undercover at a gay club

Read the fic on ao3

(lines in bold are Harry’s skills talking. I haven't specified but you can guess)

A chill wind whips their faces as they step onto the precinct roof. They huddle together, facing each other, Harry’s broad body blocking the wind which would snuff out the lighter flame. Kim lit his cigarette and then lit Harry’s. Harry recently switched from Menthols to Kim’s brand of chestnut-flavored cigarettes. Kim hasn’t asked about it even though he noticed.

As the smoke fills his lungs Kim’s whole body visibly relaxes. A softness falls across his expression, his gaze grows distant. You don’t know if it’s the ritual of smoking at the end of the day or the nicotine. The smoldering end of the cigarette is reflected in Kim’s glasses, as are you. They lean against the railing and watch the sunset over the horizon in silence. Harry waits for Kim to start. 

The jingling of Kim unzipping his jacket makes Harry stand a bit straighter and bite the filter for his cigarette. 

“Shall we start?” Kim says taking out his notebook and flipping it open. 

You nod, trying not to linger on Kim’s now exposed collarbone. 

“How do you think the investigation is going?”

“Bad.”

“Kmn, we seem to have hit a dead end. Even though we’ve made contact with the suspect the name he has been using in the club scene seems to be an alias. And his tattoo doesn’t seem to be related to any known gang or criminal organization. We are still waiting for the lab to get back to us about the particular strain of hallucinogen that was in the victim’s system.” 

“It’s worrying…”

“What is?”

“Well, the drug the victim overdosed on- it’s not something we’ve come across before. There is a chance that there will be more overdoses like this.”

“We can look into who the suspect’s supplier might be.”

“He might not have a supplier here.”

Kim glances at Harry. “Why do you say that?”

“The suspect is Seraise. They said he was bragging about being an aerostatic pilot on leave. Maybe he brought the drugs from the Safre empire, would that be possible to find out?”

“I can look into it.” 

For a moment it is silent except for the sound of Kim’s pen on paper. A motor carriage speeds across the street below. Sodium street lights are switched on as the sky grows darker and stars begin to appear one by one. 

“How long do you think we have until he returns to Safre?”

Kim taps the page with the back of his pen. “It’s hard to tell. He has been here awhile, might be any day now.” 

“He probably won’t come to that club anymore,” Harry adds.

Kim’s eyes crinkle. He is smiling though only you would notice. 

“No,” Kim says, “not after you scared him off.”

“I didn’t scare- I am perfectly capable of flirting.”

“Sure, you are,” Kim replies around his cigarette, his flat words dripping with sarcasm. 

“I am! I was just not his type is all. He must be into twinkles-”

“Twinks,” Kim corrects. “Like our victim.”

“Hm.” Harry exhales a plume of white smoke that dissolves into the night. 

“So Kim, what’s your type? Twinks, bears, otters, cubs, tigers, rabbits?”

Kim’s face remains unreadable but his shoulders tense, the pages of his notebook crinkle under his grip. 

He answers after a brief but notable pause. “I don’t have a type. And you made up the last few at the end.”

“Everyone has a type! Are you saying you have no preferences when it comes to who you find attractive?”

“I’m more interested in personalities.”

“You’re such a fucking liar. Come on Kim.”

“Enough detective. We are still in the middle of our briefing and this is irrelevant to-”

“This is relevant to the case,” Harry insists. 

“Fine,” Kim says begrudgingly. “If I had to describe it, it’s say my taste in men is … questionable.”

“Questionable? What does that mean?”

“It means I’m attracted to men who are bad for me or impossibly out of reach. Now if you are satisfied can we get back to the case?”

Harry smiles. If you are smart about it, you could get more information from Kim. “Well your answer was kind of a cop-out but I’ll let it go for now.”

Kim furrows his brow at Harry, a look that says ‘Don’t you dare.’

You feel your knees buckle under the force of Kim’s glare. You grab the railing with one hand. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me about my type?”

“I don’t have to. I already know.”

“What? How do you already know?”

Kim turns back to his notebook and pretends to read. “Because it is obvious. You like them young, waifish, and pretty. Someone mysterious and fragile, someone who you can save.”

Someone to be your redemption. 

“That- that's not true- not everyone that-” Harry stutters. Kim’s blatant description of Dora throws you off kilter. Talking about her is taboo. Even though Kim knows about her and what she did to you he had never brought it up. He knows you still have nightmares of her. 

“Well, just in Martinaise there was Klaasje, Lilienne, the smoker on the balcony, and-”

“Wait- the smoker on the balcony?”

Kim raises an eyebrow. “You were smitten. You went on and on about him, ‘he is such a good listener, I felt heard when I talked to him. He smelled so good, how can someone smell so good?” Kim covers his mouth to hide his condescending grin. 

A formless darkness claws inside you. It feels terrible to be judged, to be teased, but you can’t quite put into words what you are feeling, or why

“You sound jealous,” Harry snaps back. 

Kim sighs. “I’m not jealous. I’m a detective and I notice patterns of behaviour.”

“Well you're plain wrong in this case. You’re not like that-”

“I’m not like what?” 

“Like…” Harry’s breath stutters in his chest. Kim isn’t like Dora or Klaasje or Lilienne or the smoker on the balcony. He isn’t like them and still…

You look at Kim’s cigarette and feel a pang of jealousy. You wish to be that cigarette cradled between his lips. You want to burn into ash, you want to be the bitterness on Kim’s tongue. You want to be the smoke filling his lungs, the nicotine flooding his bloodstream. You want to be Kim’s addiction, you want to be part of him, deep and inextricable. 

“I…” A tidal wave of desire crashes through you but you can’t say the words.

Kim snaps his notebook close. “I guess we’ve reached the end of the briefing. Our conversation is no longer productive.” He tosses his half-smoked cigarette to the ground and crushes the lit ember beneath the heel of his boot. 

His face is unreadable as usual but Kim is upset. 

Damn it. You’ve fucked up Harry. 

Harry follows Kim down the stairs from the roof. 

“I’m sorry Kim, I didn’t mean to make you angry.”

“I’m not angry Officer. It’s late and we won’t any more progress today, you should go home early.”

He is lying, if he isn’t mad he wouldn’t call you ‘officer’

[writingquestionsanswered]

How do I plot a romance story?

Most advice and plot structures I have found seem to be focused on quest-type stories. Do you have any advice or templates that are mpre easily applicable to romance stories? Do I need to include another major plotline?

Basic Romance Structure

Like most stories, there are different theories and methods about structure, and you can find these by Googling "romance story structure." However, let me walk you through a basic romance structure to show you the differences and similarities with the kind of structure you'd use for something like a quest story or an adventure story.

Introduction/Normal World - Like most stories, romance stories usually open with a peek at the protagonist's "normal world" as a means of introducing who they are and what their life is like. And, as with other stories, this also introduces us to the both characters' internal conflicts. In romance, rather than resolving the internal conflict with growth in relation to the story events, the internal conflict will be resolved via change/growth in relation to the romance. [Example: Sandi is a florist with a four-year-old daughter, navigating single parenthood after her husband filed for divorce and ran away to chase a dream.]

The "Meet Cute" - This is essentially the inciting incident... the moment the two characters meet for the first time, or the first time in a long time. All in one moment, we see how undeniably right they are for each other, but due to their individual internal internal conflicts, they're butting heads big time.

[Example: Sandi meets Brent, the new flower supplier who is adorable, sweet to Sandi's daughter, but infuriatingly inept at doing things the way she likes them.]

Forced Proximity - After the "meet cute," something will inevitably force them to spend time together. They get partnered together on the same job, stuck together in the same place, keep coincidentally bumping into each other... whatever. All that matters is that they're forced to get to know each other despite their head butting.

[Example: they get roped into working together on the town's rose festival.]

Resistance/Rejection - Now that they're forced to interact for whatever reason, they're going to spend a lot of time resisting their mutual interest/desire for one another due to whatever obstacles exist, like being from warring factions or one being in the middle of a divorce. But despite this resistance, we can see the sparks flying between them, even if they can't or don't want to admit it.

[Example: Sandi wants to focus on running her business and raising her daughter; Brent just got out of a long relationship and isn't ready for romance.]

Waning Resistance/Giving Love a Chance - Eventually there's a breakthrough... the obstacle gives way... they have a really fun time hanging out at the Christmas market and almost kiss... they move past the misunderstanding between them... or maybe they just slowly get over their issues and start to fall in love. Either way, they decide to give the relationship a go.

[Example: as they get to know each other and bond through working on the rose festival, they can't deny how compatible they are and an unexpected first kiss gives Brent the courage to ask Sandi out on a date, to which she agrees.]

Three Steps Forward, Two Steps Back - This is essentially the first date, then another one, then another one... though it doesn't have to be actual dates. It just needs to be some interactive scenes when they're in relationship mode. Each of these interactions will deepen their feelings for one another while at the same time raising new obstacles or re-raising the old ones.

[Example: the first date goes well except that Sandi is preoccupied with the fact that her daughter is staying with a new sitter. The second date goes okay, except Brent is in a bad mood after his ex came to town to pick up the last of her things. Then they pull an all-nighter to make some final preparations for the upcoming rose festival, which leads to a philosophical conversation about the future, wherein Sandi says she sees herself getting remarried one day and having another kid or two, and Brent says he can't ever see himself getting married or being a father.]

This Isn't Going to Work - This is the midpoint crisis... the "all is lost" moment where one or both put on brakes and say, "I can't do this," citing whatever obstacle/s that now stand in the way of their happiness. Sometimes this follows their biggest act of intimacy yet, whether that's simply their first kiss or going all the way. It could even be the first declaration of love, being introduced to family, or some other important early relationship milestone. But then it all falls apart... maybe because one or more of the obstacles become too much, a fear-based retreat, or some other external force

[Example: the rose festival has arrived... Sandi is there with her daughter and parents, Brent is there with his mom and sister. Everyone meets, Brent continues to be great with Sandi's daughter... it's obvious Brent and Sandi belong together. But then Sandi's wayward not-yet-officially-ex-husband shows up and wants to get back together. Although she's ambivalent, seeing him interact with their daughter and her parents makes her realize giving him another chance is what's best for their daughter. Meanwhile, Brent witnesses this from far away, thinks, "I'm not good enough for a family like that," and he and Sandi go their separate ways.]

On Second Thought... - This is the moment when something happens that makes one or both characters realize they belong together... that the obstacles aren't real or don't matter... [Example: Brent finds a drawing Sandi's daughter made of the three of them together that makes him realize he really is worthy of their love. And Sandi sees that her husband hasn't changed, that he's still focused on chasing dreams that aren't what's best for their daughter... or herself, for that matter. ]

The Moment of Declaration - This is where the one character finds the other, or they find each other, and one or both declare their love and commitment to the other, despite whatever obstacles there may be. This is the run through the airport to catch the other before they fly away to a new life. It's the objection at the wedding before the other can go forward with the less-than-ideal marriage. It's the boombox on the shoulders, the kiss in the rain, the "I love, I love, I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on" declaration in a foggy field at sunrise. [Example: Brent hears from a friend that Sandi's husband left again. He goes to the last night of the rose festival, finds Sandi, and tells her he wants all of it... her, the daughter, her quirky parents, the flower shop, marriage, more kids... he is ready to take on the world with her, and she couldn't be happier.]

The Happily Ever After or "HEA" - This is the story's denouement, where we flash forward a few days, weeks, or more and see the happy ending. This is the jump ahead a few months to see the happy couple living their lives together, the one year leap ahead to the wedding, or a leap ahead to a moment even further down the road when the couple is firmly established in their HEA.

[Example: two years later, Sandi and Brent have been married almost a year, and are at the rose festival with the now six-year-old and their newborn twins, Sandi's parents, and Brent's mom and sister, one big happy family.]

Now... like I said, there are a variety of different structure templates for romance as there are for other genre stories. Don't feel like you have to pick one, and if you do, don't feel like you have to stick to it exactly. Story structure is just a guideline to help make sure you hit the important points to help the story unfold.

Happy writing!

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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