#sprinkler spare parts

[oasisirrigationequipment]

When it comes to agricultural appliances, you will find a wide variety. These are primarily used to enhance farming production and ensure the healthy growth of crops. From irrigation to dust suppression, you will find devices with specific operations. Among them, impact sprinklers have a significance of their own. 

[angelkhi]

remodel- j.m

pairing: joel miller x reader

summary: joel is tasked with remodelling your kitchen, but he seems to forget he isn't being payed for his down time.

warnings: SMUT 18+ (minors DNI), i guess it's kinda public idk it happens outside, teasing, some very cliche shit soz, mentions of boring construction stuff, mentions of alcohol (like one beer), hair pulling, spanking, brief fingering, p in v, heavy petting, age gap (reader is like 25, joel is old as fuck), pet names (pretty girl, darlin, angel), kinda mean joel in parts, praise, overstimulation, use of the words slut / whore, creampie?? kay that's it bye go touch grass.

word count: 2.6k

a little note: do contractors even fit kitchens??? idk. this has nothing to do with the fact that i'm about to have a kitchen remodel at home shush. or the fact that I just finished uni leave me alone. Once again this is some nasty shit that isn’t beta’d no one look at me. (i’m thinking of opening up requests for headcanons??? let me know what you think)

(gif credit: @kpfun <3)

The sun beats down on her skin, the fine mist from the sprinklers cooling her slightly, it was almost perfect. Another loud bang drifts through the open kitchen doors and she opens her eyes for a moment, raising her head to glance at the man currently tearing the kitchen apart.

It had been three days so far, of constant banging and drilling and deep curse words from Joel Miller. From the crack of dawn til her dad came home later in the evening,  he worked. Part of her admired his work ethic, the other part not so much just wanting a relaxing weekend whilst the weather held up.

She hears the drill stop right on cue, the clank of beers in the makeshift fridge follows, and Joel steps out into the garden. She hears his shuffling footsteps, pretending she doesn't notice him coming over, waiting until his looming figure blocks out the sun. He holds out a beer, cap already popped off. It's the same routine he'd picked up a few days ago, her outside in a bathing suit, him working until the early afternoon where he takes a break, sipping his beer from the porch and not so subtly staring at her.

Only today he lingers by her side, taking the recliner closest to her, sipping from his own drink casually. She glance over at him, the condensation dripping off of the bottle and on her stomach.

She raises an eyebrow at him, her heart beating a little faster at him being so close to her.

"Can I help you?" He chuckles and takes a hefty swig, "am I blocking your like or somethin?"

She snaps out of her impromptu stare off with him and lean back once more.

"You're fine." She take a sip of the cold beverage, continuing to watch him. "You don't usually sit over here."

"We can't all sit around perfecting our tan all day." The corner of his mouth twitches into an insufferable smirk as he watches her spare him a glance and close her eyes again.

"If someone would employ me I wouldn't have to."

There's a bite to her words that turns his smirk into a grin. He's silent for a few moments, his gaze dotting between the water glimmering under the sunlight, and her exposed skin shining just that little bit brighter.

"Your dad mentioned you'd just finished university. Second degree too. Must be real smart." His fingers trace the edge of his beer bottle and she tries not to watch the way his calloused skin caresses the bottle.

She hums in agreement, unsure of her body's reaction to his compliment. Not that he's unattractive, he's quite literally the opposite, but he'd said no more than 10 words to her the entire time he'd been there.

"You miss it?" He asks and she let out a laugh, sitting up leaning back on her forearms, looking up at him from her spot on the ground. His eyes flicker, watching the curves of her body shift as she moves, but just as quickly he's looking her in the eye again. She doesn't know what's worse.

"Fuck no. I never have to write an essay or speak to a frat boy ever again." He chuckles with her for a moment, watching as she nurses her beer and continues.

"They're just so insufferable. No manners whatsoever. Couldn't hold a door open or say thank you if their lives depended on it." She scowls thinking back to the many immature idiots she'd shared campus with. "And don't even get me started on how bad they were in bed."

She watches as his eyebrows raise a little, something sparking in his eyes.

"Is that so?" He hums, watching her closely. "Couldn't give you what you really wanted?"

Her throat suddenly feels like sandpaper and she swallows some more of her beer, trying to soothe whatever it is that her body is doing.

"How would you know what I like?" Her voice is low, almost hoarse. She watches him, the way his eyes take her in, his gaze almost predatory. He sets the bottle down, watching her as he does.

Joel leans forward, his thighs spread wide in front of him, his thumb lightly tracing her lower lip. His eyes are on her constantly, trying to gauge her reaction to his touch. She tries not to show him that the slightest touch has bought her more satisfaction than any other man ever had, but he sees it. The way her defiant gaze softens as she leans into his touch.

His hand shifts, cupping her jaw for a moment, then sliding around to the back of her head, his soft touch turning into a harsh grip. He grips her hair, holding her in place and she has nowhere to look but at him and his hulking frame and eyes growing darker with each breath.

"I think you like to be told what to do, not that you listen. I think you like being a good girl, even with your bratty little mouth." She feels his warm skin on her cheek as he leans closer and speaks, "I think you like a quick dirty fuck."

The more he talks, the hotter her skin grows, small whimpers falling from her lips when he grips her hair even tighter. He smiles, pulling back to look at her on her knees, thighs spread, tits pushed out towards him.

"I think you want my cock." He watches as her eyes gloss over, chuckling. "You want me to fuck you so good you'll feel me for days, isn't that right darlin'?"

He loosens his grip a little and she nods a little too eagerly. He smiles, and shakes his head.

"I need to hear the words, angel"

"Want- I want you to fuck me Joel." She speaks, finding herself nodding along with her words and Joel's grip tightens in her hair, his eyes dark.

His grip doesn't let up as he leads her onto all fours, her bikini shifting awkwardly, almost exposing her. She rests in front of him, knees apart, back arched slightly, his hands wondering across her back and thighs.

His palm settles on her lower back for a moment, travelling lower to her massaging her

"You sure you want this? I can go back inside, finish the job and get outta your hair." She pushes herself back into his touch but he moves his hand to the small of her back.

"Joel please, I need it." She hates how desperate she sounds, how easily she's offering herself to him, but she also couldn't care less, too riled up to deal with the consequences. She feels his touch leave her all together and is ready to protest but he speaks.

"Good."

With that his palm comes down on her skin, delivering a harsh smack. She whines pathetically, and he just watches her face contort, pure lust written across her features.

He repeats his action, spanking her harshly until her jiggling skin is red and warm. He rubs a soothing hand over the area, feeling all the blood rush to his dick, uncomfortably hard in his pants. He was half hard before he even stepped out of the kitchen, days of pent up desire, watching her lay out here in her skimpy bikini not a care in the world.

He continues to soothe the skin, her small whimpers going straight to his dick. He hooks his finger in her bikini shorts and pulls them to the side exposing her, the cool breeze against her hot centre making her gasp. He stares her for a moment, just staring at her wet cunt, before he touches her running his fingers through her folds and toying with her clit.

"Look at you, fuckin' soaked and I've barely touched you." He increases the pressure, "Perfect little cunt. You're perfect."

His hand rests on her hip, gripping her tight when she bucks away from him, but soon loosens again when she begins to move against his fingers, seeking some relief.

He keeps toying with her, drawing small fast circles over her swollen nub. His fingers explore her folds, teasing her weepy hole and sliding back down until she's practically panting.

"You're doing so good for me, darlin." His fingers pause at her opening, teasing it slightly, watching how she clenches around nothing. He slides in, right to the knuckle, hissing at her warmth when she clenches around him.

Her breathing is shallow and she tries to stay quiet but he's moving just right, hooking his finger right where she needs him. She feels her orgasm slowly start to build, his name the only thing on her lips as he brings her closer and closer, right to the edge, then pulls away completely.

She whines, and he places a kiss on the back of her shoulder shushing her. He waits until her breathing evens out a little and moves his fingers back where she needs him, sinking two of his thick digits into. She grows even louder when he curls the, fucking her quickly. The obscene sounds of her wet cunt swallowing him, her lewd moans and his deep breathing all drown out the chirping birds.

At some point, her arms begin to give out and she slowly lower herself forward, head resting on her forearms. Joel simply just chuckles to himself, speeding up his movements when he feels her walls clench around him once more. She can feel it once again, building in her stomach almost unbearably, but once again Joel pulls away before she can cum, swatting her ass harshly.

"Joel please." She begins to beg but he simply just shushes her, repeating the process twice more until she's dripping down her thighs.

His hands tug at her waist, pulling her into him, settling her in his lap. Her knees rest either side of him, clit catching on the rough material of his trousers. Joel presses a bruising kiss to her lips before moving lower, nipping and biting marks on her neck and chest.

He gets to the hem of her bikini top fingers tugging it impatiently, exposing her chest. He pauses for a moment to stare at her, lips swollen, hair a mess, exposed to him. Then his head drops and she falls back a little when his lips close around her nipple, sensitive and untouched. He frees one of his hands from her waist, paling at her other breast, rolling her nipple between his harsh fingers.

"Such pretty tits baby." His mouth returns to her skin and she moans loudly, clamping her lips shut when she remembers someone might hear them. She feels his grin against her skin and he lightly bites at her nipple, making her gasp loudly again. Her hands thread through his hair, keeping him where he is at least trying to gain some sort of gratification from his never ending teasing.

He pulls back, enjoying the way her eyes droop lightly, the way her mouth turns into a little frown at the loss of contact. He taps her hip twice and she raises onto her knees, watching as he reclines, back against the sun lounger and unbuckles his trousers, shifting his boxers so he can free himself.

She can feel him, thick snd warm beneath her as she hovers over him, nails digging in his shoulder through his shirt. He grips himself tightly, squeezing and stroking for a moment before moving the bulbous head against her clit, and she bucks her hips against him, overly sensitive from all of his teasing.

Joel doesn't seem to care, brushing his cock through her folds once again, teasing her entrance and slipping away again. She falls forward, head in his neck, her lips finding his skin as she tries to keep quiet. She hear him lightly tut and his hand is back in her hair again, pulling her back so that he can look her in the eye.

"You afraid someone might hear you, hm? Look over here and see you wrecked in my lap before i'm even finished with you?" He pauses, slipping his cock against her once more.

He's right. If anyone were to look over into her garden they'd surely faint at the sight. Her bikini top pulled down, Joel mouthing at her nipples, shorts hanging to the side as he rubs himself against her. He grins again, the kind of grin she knows means trouble.

"Let em fucking hear you. Wonder what they'll tell your daddy..." His hand moves once again, this time against her throat, holding her inches away from his face as he enters her in one long thrust.

She can't hide the loud whine that falls from her mouth, mingling with Joel's throaty curse. He doesn't give her any warning as he fucks up into her in one smooth thrust, arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her down into him as he sets an unforgiving pace.

She chokes out a moan as her pussy stretches around him, feeling utterly full. Her hands grip the back of the wicker chair, her lips on his as she whines into his mouth.

"Such a pretty fucking slut letting me fuck you like this." He buries himself to the hilt, grinding up into her and she whines even louder, clenching around him.

"You like it when I call you a slut, huh?" He thrusts again, slow and deliberate, struggling to keep his composure as he watches her mouth hang open, eyes rolling.

"Course you do, you love it. My little fuckin' whore." His foot comes up to rest on the side of the chair, giving him more leverage as he speeds up once again. From this new angle, she can feel him even deeper, her chest rubbing up against the soft material of his shirt, clit catching against his jeans once more.

She knows she won't last long, still slightly on the edge from his earlier movements. She clenches around him, his cock hitting her perfectly over and over again.

Joel notices the way her whines get louder, how her hands bunch in his t shirt. He feels her clenching hard around him and this thrusts grow harsher, the need to finally make her cum burning in his chest.

He pulls her hips down to meet his thrusts, chasing her release through her loud moans. His lips suck on her neck, just below her ear, the sensation shooting straight to her core. Her skin tingles as she cums, her moan stuck in her throat eyes squeezed shut, mouth closed.

"Fuck" Joel groans, his fingers digging into her skin, sure to leave marks. He pulls her impossibly closer. He can, whispering quiet thanks over and over again, her words spurring him on.

He doesn't let up, chasing his own release, her cunt convulsing around him, choking his cock. His hips stutter a little and he groans loudly, his face buried in her neck, teeth digging into her skin.

His chest heaves with exhaustion, her soft pliant body on top of his. He cups her jaw softly, his actions a far cry from his earlier behaviour. His lips are soft against hers and she leans into him, muscles weak.

"You okay?" He mumbles, pulling away from her lips only slightly, watching her tired eyes and slow smile. She nods, forehead resting against his own too tired to speak so he kisses her again.

The pair rest in silence, hands all over each other, until Joel speaks up again.

"Y'know that kitchen might just take a few days" She chuckles lightly against his chest, and mumbles, almost indecipherable.

"Thank fuck."

[phoenixtakaramono]

Into the Butchlander Multiverse Threadfic - Part II

Tumblr Navigation: I | II

EXCERPTS: "Fuck being a gentleman. If I waited for you any longer, we'd both be in our eighties. ...So believe me, William. As much as this hurts me to do this...you have to be punished a little." | Like a brat who doesn't realize the consequences of his actions and that he's about to get spanked, Homelander invites with an easy grin, "Well, gentlemen, which one of you wants to go first?"

CW: 🔞 scene involving 7 Butchers sandwiching 1 Homelander, spoilers for The Name of the Game (AO3), Truce (AO3), and my other butchlander AU threadfics these 5 Butchers originate from

(You can read the rest of the threadfic update here!)

If you don’t have a Twitter account, screenshots are provided below the line break so you can read this update on Tumblr as well (contains ⚠️🔞 below, so proceed with caution if you’re out in public):

Billy recognizes the pensive look Homelander's directing over at Billy's doppelgängers, with his pretty blue eyes all expressive and forlorn.

Once Sameer wanders out of earshot, Homelander floats on over to Billy, his deep honeyed voice full of longing as he whispers, "Why can't we keep them here?"

Billy is not about to sit down and explain to Connie Butcher née Atkinson why she suddenly has a set of seven nearly-identical septuplets—when she'd only given birth to two sons.

Neither does Billy want to share his Homelander with them.

But instead of voicing his true thoughts aloud, Billy retorts calmly, "Because, John, you have me, don't you?" The moment the name fell from his lips, he knows he's gotten Homelander's attention. Billy spares him a look.

They were going to have a nice long chat about the dreams Homelander had mentioned having—but now’s clearly not the time for that conversation.

"Besides...they all got their own Homelanders to go home to.” Billy offers a smirk. “Let's not separate the lovers, eh?"

It's the smart answer, because that's what gets Homelander to reluctantly do away with any of his dark intrusive thoughts to sabotage the machine and hold all six Butchers back as some sort of f*cked up modern-day harem of Butchers to cater to him, preventing them from returning to their worlds.

But it's an answer that must've jinxed Billy’s, because the moment that all six Butchers blink out of existence in a brilliant glow, the machine starts sparking. Sameer’s shouts for a fire extinguisher are heard as a blanket of smoke buffets the air.

The overhead sprinklers came on, raining down on the sparking machinery.

But that’s not the issue. Because now, standing in the vacated space of the six Butchers who'd disappeared, six Homelanders, and his Homelander, are staring back shell-shocked at one equally stunned William J. Butcher.

(The End...?)

———

(A/N) - Y'all... Groan with me, because this writer had written completely beautiful romantic prose that'd been 58 tweets long at the end from 1AM to 6AM—when my computer decided to restart on me. 😂😥 I did my best to recreate what I could remember here, but we light candles for what could've been my best 🔞 writing for a threadfic, ahhhhhh. I did my best but this is only a 60% recreation. RIP 💀. I hope y'all enjoyed nonetheless! ✨（￣︶￣）↗　

By the way, the ending is open-ended because it teases a second follow-up to this threadfic. But it won't be till later when I start it.

[octuscle]

Life in France is amazing ! I couldn't be happier with my handsome boyfriend Claude, holding hands and kissing not caring what people thought of us, living the life in Amiens.

We were on our daily walk around the city when a random sprinkler broke and completely soaked us with water ! The landcapist, a thirty-ish man started to apologize in spanish though I couldn't understand a thing. Luckily Claude had taken some classes after work and after a bit of laughing and joking around everything was fine.

José, as he was called, offered us some exchange clothes, Claude refused but as I was completely wet, clothes heavy and shoes filled with water, I gladly accepted. He gave me some of his spare clothes : thin work pants and a simple white shirt. Both were way to big for me but I wouldn't be wearing them for long, José even offered me to change in the back of his van which I gladly accepted too.

Claude and I rapidly walked back home so we could clean ourselves. He told me I was quite handsome in the Gardening clothes and went right to the bathroom, while I stayed back, thinking about what my boyfriend just said. With a malicious grin I took his phone and opened the app he had shown me last week. We had used it once to have some fun but remained cautious since a single wrong manipulation could seriously mess with our lives.

I selected myself as a target, and activated "Change to fit environment" and set the timer for three days. I then went to Claude's profile and made him oblivious to all the changes. This will be fun ! I took my working clothes off and joined my boyfriend in the shower.

The next day I woke at 5 am, Claude was still sleeping and I myself didn't manage to go back to sleep. That's when it hit me ! I was supposed to work for a big client today ! I knew this memory wasn't mine but I didn't care, I just had to get along and the changes would happen themselves ! Claude was in for a big surprise once I made him aware of the changes again !

I put on my working clothes which were still too big for me and went on my way taking the bus to one of the nicer parts of Amiens where all the rich people lived. On the ride I noticed how my muscles were swelling the closer I got to my destination, my feet were nicely filling my work boots and my shirt was stretched by my chest. My hands and fingers got thicker and meatier, callouses formed on them like I had done a lot of manual labor. I couldn't help but explore my bigger face, pressing my fingers on my plump lips, feeling my shorter hair.

I flexed my swollen arms and stretched my legs, noticing how nicely I fit José's clothes like they were almost made for me. Speaking of José, I could see him stationing our van in front of this massive property. The client wanted us to install a massive colorful flowerbed for some marriage of one of his grandsons. I managed to overhear some bits of conversation, his grandson was gay, and will be marrying another man called Claude, how odd !

José and I went ahead and started digging up the ground. I remembered applying at his company for an apprenticeship, it was hard to communicate at first since he spoke little french, but he was impressed how fast and well I could get the work done, so after my apprenticeship he hired me as a full time employee.

As we were planting the last flowers, the sun was already setting and it was too late for us to drive across the city to go home, so we simply slept in my car, that I had parked there this morning. I sent a rapid text to Claude, letting him know I'd not come home tonight since I needed to finish some work.

The next morning I woke up in José's arms. He held me tight against him and I started panicking a little, we weren't clothed ! But he didn't seem to mind, he just stroked across my stomach, ruffling through the thick hair growing there. This seemed to calm me a little as I turned around and to him in my arms too, resting my head on his. Our legs entangled and we fell asleep again for another hour.

When we woke up again we rapidly changed for work, my body was stretching the pants and the shirt but I didn't mind showing off. In fact I found it quite exciting as I chuckled dumbly. José started to explain to me what needed to be done today and I answered in a lacking french, some Spanish words finding their way in my speech.

As we were trimming hedges big beads of sweat started appearing on my darkening skin, I was now properly tan, as my hair changed from brown to thick black strands. More hair covered my arms, and my legs, making me progressively look more and more like José, except that I was still ten years younger than him. I wanted to let Claude know that I was coming home early today as we had been particularly fast with work today, but then I thought about surprising him with some fresh flowers from the florist around the corner. José told me he wanted to finish watering the flowers we planted yesterday, and told me to go home before him since he didn't need more help. Thanking him, I took my car and drove back home.

The apartment I opened wasn't the one I knew. It was more messy but bigger, tools were lying around here and there, while fresh clothes were strung all around our apartment. I went straight to the bathroom and took a shower first, Claude didn't seem to be home so I then made myself a fast microwave dinner before dropping down In front of the TV. Everything was in Spanish, I had a hard time understanding what all the different characters were saying, but it became more clearer as time went by, I could grasp more and more words and even found myself laughing my ass off at the different jokes that were being made. Soon José came home, kissing me on the lips before going to take a shower. Wait ? Where was Claude ?! I took out my phone and wanted to write to him but it suddenly got smaller and smaller before folding in on itself and becoming one of these older Nokias !

I started to panic as I tried to find his number in the smaller phone ! I couldn't find it anywhere ! I tried to explain the situation to José but he just told me to stop trying to speak French, and that I should stick to Spanish, he couldn't understand a bit ! Not knowing what to do, I lay myself on the couch before rapidly falling asleep.

The next morning I woke up next to my fiancée. Wait, no ! I'm supposed the be with Claude ! I went out of bed but stumbled as my body had changed again overnight. My legs were thick as tree stumps, my arms and biceps had swollen again. I had developed a slight belly too, hiding my abs under a slight layer of fat ! Looking in the mirror revealed an older face, like I had aged ten years during my sleep ! I need to find Claude's phone before the day is over !

I first started to look for our old place, but instead of finding Claude's apartment there was an old lady living there, telling me the last tenant had moved in with his rich boyfriend three years ago ! That's when I remembered the wedding !

I went to my car, speeding to the property we had last worked on, not noticing my vehicle becoming bigger, whiter, transforming into a big van. When I arrived back at the villa I saw Claude holding hands with another man ! I tried to cross the gate but they couldn't understand me ! They didn't even want to let me through ! I need to get to my employers phone before the timer reaches 0 ! I don't want to be stuck as a gardener !

Sequel from @gkutfdvnn to https://www.tumblr.com/octuscle/721304900555915264/my-french-roommate-is-going-through-a-tough?source=share

Whew! This is by far the longest request I've ever received…. And accordingly, it took a bit longer to process. But I'm afraid I can't do much more here either. Claude is as good as married. And José and you, you love each other. I must also say that the result of your transformation is pretty cool. Hermano, ¡te ves bien!

I just changed a few little things on you so that you and José can have a lot of fun.

José is a really good catch! Hermano, hold on to this one as best you can. But since you've been working out more and taking care of your diet, that shouldn't be a problem. Nobody can get out of your arms so easily…

And what you can't do with your arms, you can do with your smile. I admit, this was probably all planned quite differently. But make the best of it. You are an even more beautiful couple than Claude and you were.

[beepfuckingbeeprichie]

I’ve got some questions/critiques for The Fall of the House of Usher. I loved it! But some parts had me confused

Everyone who died with Perry. Perry’s death is the only death that takes people with them (except Victorine, but she only took one person down with her). Verna tells all the security guards AND Morrella to leave, which implies she’s sparing the people who are not the offspring of Roderick Usher, but then the sprinklers go off on ALL of the party guests

Furthermore, if the stuff in the tanks was so damn corrosive, why was it only the people who were burned/melted. Like shouldn’t have everything else started to melt, like the bar and the security camera we get a clear shot of, unmelted? This is very pedantic tho

Madeline is going to see death in their old house, she’s taking off her wig, the gloves are about to come off and the facade is ab to drop and show us the real toll that this life has taken on Madeline… only for her to have similarly gorgeous hair underneath? She essentially took off her clip on bangs lol. Like “time to tussle with death let me take off my bangs”

It felt like we got served the most horrific deaths first and almost everything else after was anti climactic in comparison. Perry’s death was a showstopper and it was the first we saw

Verna’s different levels of involvement in each Usher’s death. She gave warnings to Perry, Camille, and Leo, but she didn’t orchestrate what happened, she was just kinda there, an observer in what they had already decided to do. Sort of the same thing with Froderick, he decided to go into the building himself, although it was her who made him switch up the powders and she imitated his voice to give the wrecking ball the all clear. But she was a straight up instigator in Tammy’s and Vic’s deaths by appearing to them as real people in their lives and, arguably, driving them mad. You could even say it’s the madness that killed them

Ah yes, Napoleon usher, the famous playboy, who we see cheat on his loving partner one time. Like that just makes him a douchebag, a playboy would never have someone moving in

I was confused on Roderick’s characterization at some points. In the house with Augustine he seems like a real badass, an industry Titan indeed, especially with the lemon monologue. And then sometimes it would reveal that the powerful speeches he gave to the children and the way he commanded the family was directly lifted from things other powerful men had said to him to make him feel small, and a lot of times I was like “oh this man is just a loser in a nice suit”

Okay but what was Auggie’s long term plan with the informant lie? Like how was that going to pan out? I get he was trying to get them to turn on each other, and it worked, but he said in the courtroom that his informant was how he was going to get it to stick but there was no informant so like ???

Madeline just tried to snap Verna’s neck. And apparently was successful?

This is a little nit picky but you can’t tell me that “the bastards” like Perry and Napoleon and even Victorine who came to Roderick almost grown just so happened to have ridiculous rich people names. No minimum wage worker is naming their child Napoleon. “Can you cover my shift? I have to take little Prospero to the doctor, his tummy hurts.”

You expect me to believe Roderick Usher wrote Annabel Lee? That he was spitting original fire poetry at Auggie as he died?

[messedupfan]

The Battle of the Multiverse Part 2

Summary: The battle comes to an end.

A/N: I don't know if I've mentioned this before but each chapter is like a scene. Oh if only I could make movies. Anyway, I hope you all like this ending. There was a lot of last minute changes and I'm not quite sure how I feel about it. Enjoy!

Masterlist | All Chapters | All Stories Taglist

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As you are on your knees, exhausted and entirely at the Scarlet Witch's mercy, you aren't. Your body is. But you aren't. Mentally you are home, tending to your garden with your wife. She catches you gazing at her and scrunches her nose at you. It's a small action but one that makes you fall for her once again. The more mischievous side of you takes over and raises the garden hose and spray at her once. Her mouth drops in a humorous shock. You start laughing and she starts laughing. Then she is chasing you around the garden until the two of you trip. Wanda lands on top of you and the two of you spare no time before kissing each other even as the automatic sprinklers come on. 

That’s where you want to be right now. 

You find some comfort in knowing she is safe at home for the moment. However, that peace is stripped away from you the moment you open your eyes. Wanda is not home. She's here, floating behind the Scarlet Witch with sharp pieces of rubble beside her with glowing red eyes. She strikes the Scarlet Witch with them and because every battle and absorption of power weakened her the sharp pieces were able to pierce through her skin. 

Unfortunately, she was still strong enough to reroute a few of those pieces straight through her variant's heart. There was no time for you to process. Your reflexes fail you and your wife. “No!” You scream out as you watch life leave Wanda's eyes for the second time. In your weak state, you crawl to her body in tears. “You were supposed to go home,” you whisper to her body. 

“It wouldn't have mattered,” the Scarlet Witch pulls out a shard of glass from the front of her hip. “She would have died there anyway. You couldn't save her by sending her home. You were bound to lose to me.” She yanks out a sharp piece of wood from her thigh next.

“I could have won,” you say brokenly.

The Scarlet Witch shrugs as she twiddles with the bloody piece, “I’m not convinced that you wanted it enough. Maybe if she told you, then I could see you having a shot of walking out of here.”

You scoff, “What are you talking about?”

“Well, you see, I have more motivation to win because I actually got to meet my boys. I got to hold them and raise them alongside the most amazing person. You didn't even know she was pregnant. Not really smart on her part if you ask me,” before you can react to the shocking information the Scarlet Witch stabs you in the back with the wood she was playing with. “Might have given you the extra strength you needed. But it's far too late for that now.” 

“No,” you grit through your teeth. You focus all of your energy to do the opposite of what you were made to do. Screaming at the top of your lungs, you turn the life saving energy into something so deadly she cannot combat against it. Once her form is reduced to an orb of energy you take that and instead of absorbing any of it, you return it all to the rightful homes. It's a strong spell that requires powers from all of the stones in your body and once every energy has disappeared from your hands you drop to your knees beside Wanda. 

You lay your hand over her belly and with this final effort, you transfer all of your power to save her and the boys. It takes everything from you until there is nothing left but the ring you wore to signify your devotion to your wife lying on her chest. 

Epilogue

Slowly rocking herself on the porch swing, Wanda gazes out into the backyard as her boys, Billy and Tommy, run around with their uncle Pietro. She smiles as she hears them giggle and squeal here and there. Something she almost missed out on and cherishes every second of. They love their visits with their uncle. He tries to come out here as often as he can to be with them. Has been doing this since the day they were born. Usually he has his daughter with him, who loves her cousins and enjoys spending time with them, but she had a very important sleepover to attend for her social standing. So, he came alone. 

Pietro catches one of the boys and he uses magic to get away. Impressing the man. Triggering something in his mother. The boy is using your old sling ring. She hadn't known that they knew where it was, let alone know how to use it. That was something far too dangerous for them to have in their possession without the proper training. Wanda gets up to go take it from them but a hand on her shoulder stops her. 

“It’s okay,” the voice soothes her, “I’ve got it.” You walk out into the garden with a stern look. “Billy, what did I say about playing with my things,” you admonish the little boy. 

Wanda relaxes into her seat as she lets you handle the problem. It took her years to figure out how to bring you back. All she had left of you was your ring. Whereas when you brought her back to life, her entire body was in your arms. She thought it would be impossible until one day, it worked. You were returned to her. The boys were still young enough for you to return without having to explain too much to them. Though, the two of you agreed that one day you would. 

Jean kept in touch with Wanda as the only two who survived the mission. That was, until Wanda revealed to Jean about getting you back. The woman put in a request to bring everyone else back but Wanda refused. She didn't want to risk the balance of life. Jean didn't understand how bringing back good people from the dead would negatively affect the multiverse. She didn't know what it took to bring someone back completely and the witch wasn't going to expose those details. She wasn't about to put a target on her back. Which ultimately put a strain on the relationship. Effectively ending the friendship between the two. Wanda was fine losing that friendship because she didn't need the Phoenix. She needed you. Her boys needed you. 

It took you some time to adjust to life again. You still possess some powers but not like you did before. Wanda tried to transfer the powers back to you but you refused. Claimed she deserved them more. She was reluctant at first, but eventually accepted that you no longer wanted them. 

“Looks like we're going to have to get better at hiding the dangerous things,” you say as you climb the steps and wave the sling ring at Wanda. 

She smiles and takes the device from you when you join her side. “I think I might have a place for it,” she replies. 

“Oh? Should I be concerned,” you say jokingly. It widens her smile as she denies it. You repeat her words and she confirms it again and again until you meet her lips with yours. “Alright boys!” You call out once you separate from her. All three males turn their heads towards the house. “Time for dinner, go clean up! Especially you, Pietro,” the man rolls his eyes at your comment but all three come running towards the house. You stand up but Wanda doesn't. “You coming?” 

“In a minute,” she says, “I want to enjoy the sunset.”

“Okay,” you lean down and kiss her forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she shoos you inside the home and you laugh as you do as she says. Once you're out of sight, Wanda gets up. She walks across the yard to the shed she has banned everyone from. With a wave of her hand, she uncovers a door that reveals a long staircase once opened. Descending the stairs, she walks into her secret lair. 

What you hadn't known when you released all of the energy from the orb was that the Scarlet Witch energy needed somewhere to go. It quickly found its home in Wanda’s body. Once she returned to this universe, the Darkhold called to her day and night until she was reunited with it. She fought so hard against it, knowing the destruction it is bound to cause. But it gave her you and she hopes that by having you and her boys she will avoid becoming as corrupted as her variant. She hopes. 

But that is a problem for a later date. Wanda sets the sling ring on a shelf and ignores the floating Darkhold as she passes it on her way back. 

Walking into her home she witnesses the sight of her happy family and she knows she made the right decisions that led to this. You wave her over and she quickly joins the table. 

After dinner, Pietro leaves and the boys get tucked into bed by you and Wanda. They tell their parents that they love them before they leave, filling the couples hearts with gratitude. The two of you make your way to your bedroom and once you're settled into each other's arms you ask her if she believes there will be another Scarlet Witch threatening to take away everything they have again. 

“No, I don't think we have to worry about that,” she assures you. 

“How can you be certain?” 

She gives you a look, “When are you ever going to accept that once I said 'I do' I instantly gained the ability to always be right?”  You chuckle and kiss her cheek as an apology. “Seriously though, you don't have to worry. No one will ever be corrupted by the Darkhold again.” 

Or will she?

The End.

Taglist: @princessprudy @sayah13 @agaymilflover @awkwardmandalorian @bentleywolf29 @evenbeingcrazy1998 @olsensnpm @artisannat @thisischaismagic @wqndanat @madamevirgo @likefirenrain @tearsofglitter @feltlikethat @the-writer-arcane @natashasilverfox @karsonromanoff @aloneodi @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @jovialsublimecomputer @natasha-maximoff @iliketozoneout @doudouneverte @druggedduck @notbornbutforged @when-wolves-howl @lifespectator @justyourwritter69 @wandaromamoff69 @awesomelygayasf @nekoannie-chan @diaryoflife @wuwu96 @wandanats-goodgirl @sincerely-indi @blueredg52

[julesthequirky]

The 'Uncle': Part One

All my work is purely aimed at those 18+ so minors kindly, DNI.

Summary: Three years ago your mother introduced you to her new boyfriend, Dean, and since then you've all gelled as a new family. Dean treats your mother like she's the finest gold and you honestly couldn't be happier for her. But what you weren't counting on was a new 'uncle', and there's something about the way that he looks at you that makes your skin crawl...

Characters/Pairings: Step 'Uncle'!Sam x Step 'Neice'!Reader, Dean, OC Denise (reader's mother), Omar, Tony, Raven, Emily.

Overall Warnings: Noncon (rape), degradation, finger sucking, mentions of blowjobs, blackmail, manipulation.

W/C: 2,336

“She’s eighteen, Denise. I’m sure she’ll be fine on her own.”

“I don’t know,” Your mother chewed her bottom lip. “What if something happens? I’d feel better if someone was here, like Sam.”

Fuck. No. Anyone but him. Dread lined the pit of your stomach at the thought of Dean’s brother in your home for a week whilst your mother and Dean went on vacation.

“Mom, please. I’m an adult.”

“You’re not twenty-one yet, missy.”

You pleaded, giving her your best Bambi eyes. She turned to Dean, who had his arm around her waist.

“You know what I think, Dee? She’s old enough, and Y/N is a good kid,” he chuckled. “Hell, kids her age are doing all sorts of things - drinking, parties, passing something from Kentucky, ahah.” Dean petered off as he realised he’d put his foot in it.

He chuckled, and you shot him a look to say, ’Why’d you go and say that for?’. But, of course, your mother would never let you stay home alone now, and she stared dumbstruck at her boyfriend for a moment before turning to you.

“I’m calling Sam.”

“No, Mom, please. I don’t need supervision!”

“Dee—” Dean attempted.

“No, I’ve made up my mind.” With that, she strutted off, already dialling his number.

Dammit. That was it then.

“Sorry, kiddo.” Dean squeezed your shoulder as your mother stayed firm in her decision and he followed her into the living area.

Knowing Sam would be sitting put a sour taste in your mouth, and nausea roiled in your stomach. You would be subject to him for a week, where he would get away with anything. And they had no idea.

It started two years ago when Sam came over to celebrate the 4th of July. Dean was at the barbecue, beer in hand, tongs in another, and wearing an apron that made you and your mother laugh, prompting you to tell him, ‘That’s not what meat man means’.

You were dancing to music in your cutest short-shorts and t-shirt, with the hosepipe filling the inflatable pool, when the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, the feeling extending down your spine. You turned, hose in hand, and your eyes honed in on the cause.

You thought Dean was tall. Well, he was taller. And he was staring right at you. Your smile slipped. Something about the intensity of his look made you nervous, and you couldn’t help but shake the feeling of being caught in a predator’s gaze.

He raised the beer to his mouth, and you turned to face the pool, eyes fixed on the water rippling, intent on not gaining any more attention than you had already garnered.

Out of sheer luck, you managed to stay away from Sam. When he was around, you were out. But it seemed that the inevitable couldn’t be fought.

*

Fuck. Fuck Fuck!!! You mentally cursed yourself out as you approached the house. The lights were on. Meaning Sam was home. Thinking you’d be fine, you hadn’t taken your rucksack with a spare change of clothes. Which also meant that you couldn’t even use your typical studying excuse.

You weren’t stupid enough to go through the front door, so you sneaked around the house’s edge to not set the sprinkler’s off and headed for the backyard gate. You gave it a tentative push, and it swung open slightly. Relief washed through you, intensely grateful that you wouldn’t be attempting parkour tonight.

You edged towards the trellis that lead up to your balcony when suddenly you were plunged into darkness. The fuck?

You knelt, frozen on the spot, heart pounding in your chest, as you listened desperately for a sound, anything. But nothing, except for the crickets in the grass. You mentally chided yourself and willed yourself to calm down. Still, the adrenaline running through your veins had you on edge, and you wouldn’t breathe until you were safe inside your room.

With some sense of calmness, you make your way to the trellis. You’re sure that he’s probably gone to sleep. With that self-reassurance, you climbed the frame with ease and expertise. Dean had talked about bringing it down as it blocked the sight of the yard from the living room, but you’d managed to talk him out of it.

You dropped onto the balcony, making barely a sound, and quickly found relief as you let yourself into your bedroom. You closed the door behind you and closed the curtains, making it look like you had been here all along.

“Have a good time out?” A voice asked.

“Fffffuuuuuuuuck!!” You yelled, heart soaring to your throat, a coldness washing over you. You spun around to see Sam sitting in the corner of your room.

He clicked on the bedside lamp beside him. Then, watching you, he rose to his feet. That familiar prickly feeling came to your head and awareness of how screwed you were slid down your spine.

You opened your mouth, but he beat you to it. “There are cameras. By the gate, Y/N.”

Shit. You’d forgotten about the damn cameras. Dean had installed them, joking that they were only for show, only because your mother had worried herself over intruders.

He stepped closer until he had you craning your neck back just to look at him. He was so damn tall. You swallowed thickly…. you were in the shit, for sure.

Sam was a brooder. He was patient and always found the right opportunity that worked in his favour.

“Does your momma know you dress like a slut?” Sam asked, fingering the hem of your super short skirt.

Your hand swatted his away, and his eyes narrowed at your slight. You’d poked the bear. Nice one.

“Your momma gave me a list of rules for you to adhere to. No parties, no drinking, no smoking and no boys. How many do y’think you’ve broken? Three at least, I’d say.”

All of them. You’d broken all your mother’s rules.

Damn. Fuck. You had swilled your mouth with mouthwash at least twice and popped a mint just in case, and to combat the herbal smell you had sprayed so much, you had coughed and spluttered before Ubering back. On top of that, you had begged your Uber driver, Omar, to stop at least a block away, so Sam wouldn’t get suspicious.

If he was angry, he didn’t show it. In fact, you’d say he’d been waiting for this moment as a smirk curved his lips.

“Your momma thinks you’re this perfect little angel, but I know different. And Dean’s too pussywhipped to see through your little act.”

In the two years you’ve known Sam, he’d barely spoken two words to you. Now, filth was spewing from his lips.

You had the wool pulled over your mother’s and Dean’s eyes. And they were none the wiser. You’d perfected the routine. Practised the lie so much it was second nature. Now, standing before you, Sam posed as a real threat to your perfectly curated deception.

“You weren’t supposed to be here!” You admitted, and he laughed.

“Oh, I know, darlin’. Did mommy dearest just have to go and ruin your plans?” he mocked  condescendingly.

The nerve of this man. It angered you. He knew exactly how your mother worried herself nearly to death. And he used it to his advantage feeding into her anxiety. He whispered poison into her ear, and no amount of convincing could appeal to her rationale. It all fell on deaf ears.

“She’s just concerned.”

And she had every right to be. At four, you had been out with your dad, doing errands, and a drunk driver on the wrong side of the road had ploughed headfirst into your dad’s car, killing him instantly. He never stood a chance. You on the other hand – it had been a miracle that you had come out almost unscathed.

“Is that so?” A malicious grin spread across his face.

You backed up, eyes wide, mouth forming a small o, the prey to a predator, as he stalked towards you. When the backs of your knees hit the edge of the mattress you almost fell on your ass, but Sam gripped your shoulder, stopping you from going anywhere.

“Well, she should be concerned.”

Danger spiked his words and fear rooted you to the spot.

“I’ll tell Dean.” You managed to choke out.

He snorted. “You’ll tell Dean what? How you seduced a grown man. That you couldn’t control yourself and succumbed to the lust surging in that little body o’ yours. Who do you think he’s gonna believe? The lawyer or the whore?”

“I’m not a whore.” You stood defiant.

“Oh please. I know you’ve sucked more cock than anybody else in your year.”

His fingers trailed over the curve of your lips. A whimper slipped out, and you gave a tentative shake of your head.

“Sam…”

He grinned like a child that was happy playing with its toy. He pushed his fingers past your lips and into the hot cave of your mouth.

“Suck.” He ordered.

You wouldn’t. You stood, staring hard at him with a mouth full of his fingers.

He bent low, his breath fanning over the shell of your ear.

“If you don’t start sucking, I’ll call your mother and tell her all about tonight.”

That bastard. Heat flamed your cheeks, and the strange sensation of shame filled you. His fingers nudged forwards, the heavy digits resting on your tongue curling down to the back of your throat.

If your mother found out about your exploits, you could kiss goodbye to the prospect of staying in a college dorm come September. Your mother would never let you out of her sights, and you’d never know freedom.

After a moment, your cheeks hollowed, and your tongue flexed. He groaned in pleasure.

“Such a good girl.” He praised.

Your tongue lashed over the digits, curling around them, sucking them as deep as they would go until eventually he pulled his fingers free with a resounding pop.

You avoided his gaze until he tipped your chin back.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You refused to answer him. He tutted, then grasped your chin and forced your head to shake ‘no’.

“Please. Let me go. I just want to sleep.”

You wished you’d taken up Emily’s offer to bunk at her place. Sleeping on a pull-out bed where the springs poked your back seemed far more appetizing than facing your ‘uncle’ tonight. You’d considered it, played around with it in your mind, but had you not turned up until morning, Sam would have called your mother.

“Let you go? Don’ think so, girlie.”

Your eyes fluttered shut and the first drop of a tear, slipped down, catching on his hand.

“Please.”

His fingers grasping your chin, loosened, eventually letting go. Shuddering in a breath, your eyes opened,

“I won’t tell anyone.” You’d take it to the grave.

“You won’t?”

You shook your head. You just wanted him to stop.

“I’ll stay in and do the housework. I’ll—”

“Bargaining won’t work with me, darlin’.”

Fuck. Your stomach dropped, leaving a sour taste in your mouth, and your heart thudded heavily in your chest. You craned your neck to look at him, and took a steady breath.

“So, who was the lucky boy tonight?”

His question caught you off guard, it had you blinking in confusion.

“C’mon, darlin’. I know you’re not stupid. Who’s cock did you suck?”

You shook your head. “No-ones.” You lied.

Long time crush, hot quarterback Tony had been at the party with a few of his buddies, playing beer pong. Emily had pushed you towards him, and then she had quickly ditched you, going off with Raven.

You’d forced yourself to make small talk, all the while wondering what the fuck you were doing. You’d almost pinched yourself when he suggested that he wanted to dance. With you. His body moved close to yours, closer still. His lips brushed your ear, your lips, your neck, hands exploring your heated skin. and you’d said the hell with it.

Tony had pulled you into a cloakroom, the chord light switch cast shadows, as you kissed. Then the next thing you were taking him into your mouth, with satisfied groans above you.

Sam sighed and pulled out his phone. he made a few taps before angling the screen down to you. Right there, from a hidden camera was Tony, pants down and you on your knees, hands gripping his hips.

All the energy within evaporated, and the colour drained from your face. How? No, you didn’t want to know.

“You’re a dirty little liar.” He whispered.

“Sam, I—”

“Save it,” he interrupted. “What would your momma say, hmm?”

He made a few more taps, turning it back around for you to see. Your mother was clicked ready to send. Your eyes widened, and adrenaline shot through your system, heating your temperature. He wouldn’t. But he would, and you knew that. He would do just about anything to get what he wanted.

“Please! You can’t. She’d lose her mind! I’d lose college privileges. Please, Sam, please!” you begged, hysterical, desperate for him to back away from the nuclear button.

Sam’s eyebrows raised as you begged and pleaded. But no amount would stop him on his current mission to screw up your life. Nothing would stop him unless he got what he wanted. You slumped, defeated.

 “Tell me what you want.”

 A slow malicious grin spread across his face, glee danced in his eyes. Sam leant down, pushing his face to yours.

“Oh darlin’, ‘m gunna pop your cherry.”

Coldness swooped down, freezing your blood, and his words knocked around your head, but you could barely hear them over the thrashing heartbeat in your ears.

No. No. No.

Your breath rasped, coming out quicker when his hand soothed down your cheek. Your eyes squeezed shut unable to stop the sob of hopelessness escaping your chest.

[violetlichen]

Immaculance | Chapter 2

Whitney makes good on his promise to Nora from their encounter over the summer break. Read on AO3 here! warnings: light violence

Nora’s lungs burned as she sprinted around the side of the school. The September air made her teeth ache from her heavy breathing, and her book bag hammered against her lower back in an annoying rhythm. She had only one destination in mind, and she hoped and prayed to whatever deity the Temple worshiped that Doren was already there and that his door wasn’t locked. The other teachers were even less inclined to leave their doors unlocked this early in the morning, and the library was too crowded, ruling that out as well. She’d just have to make it to the rear courtyard before Whitney did, assuming he wasn’t already posted there waiting for her. If he was, her only option would then be to hop the fence and lose him in the industrial alleyways, and hopefully make it back before the first bell rang.

She spared a glance behind her. Although out of sight now that she’d rounded a corner, the heavy footsteps and hollering of the boys were progressively sounding closer and she couldn’t afford to stay on the narrow pathways that lined the campus property. Veering left towards the gymnasium she continued on, a burning stitch forming in her side. She ignored it the best she could. Students in her path blessedly parted like the sea upon noticing her, preventing her from having to slow down.

She cut behind a row of sheds and other storage buildings that neighbored the gym, feeling a bit bad for stumbling through a little garden plot that some of the agricultural students had been tending over the summer and making a mental note to come back to assess the damage. A stream of water from the sprinkler system misted her before she could dodge it, dampening her hair and soaking her shoes and knee socks from a lighter gray into a dark soggy black. She groaned and rolled her eyes at the sensation of wet socks, squeezing out water with every thud of her feet. This was just the cherry on top.

Perhaps she deserved this. The boy she eventually learned was named Whitney had promised her in the park a few months ago that he'd make her life a living hell, the day she teasingly stared down at him from a tree he and his friends had chased her into. He had certainly tried all summer. Of course it was easier for her to weasel her way out of his grasp when she had the whole town at her disposal, with all its nooks and crannies that she knew like the back of her hand. That particular day she'd just waited for them to lose patience, as she learned early on they had little of it, and they soon left her but not before Whitney threw a beer bottle at her and swore he'd get her eventually.

It was also easier to laugh it off back then, but their little cat-and-mouse game was finally catching up to her. They were on Whitney's turf now.

Maybe she should've just let him beat the shit out of her the day he caught her in his backyard, let him get it out of his system and think they were even.

She had been particularly desperate that day. Her birthday had been looming over her, and the older girls on her floor had warned her about what turning eighteen meant. The problem was nobody seemed to know exactly how much Bailey expected from them, and anybody who did know was gone, so she'd started saving everything she could spare. Unfortunately, despite the fact that it was summer and the busiest season for the cafe, Sam had been cutting her hours shorter and shorter. He claimed it wasn't anything against her. They hadn't been doing very well with the town seeing one of its lowest records of tourism in years, and the other employees had seniority over her. If business picked back up again, he promised he'd schedule her more.

It hadn't, and it made her antsy enough to go to Danube. Knocking on doors was never very fruitful, but occasionally it connected her with people who needed help with errands or other small chores. Sometimes people were just lonely and wanted company, but she tried to avoid people like that. Nobody was really looking for help that day and she told herself she'd try one more house before calling it quits, finding herself waiting awkwardly in front of a big brick manor and not really expecting anything to come of it. A frazzled looking lady in a servant's uniform had opened the door and waved her in once she heard Nora was offering babysitting services.

She had no way of knowing that the person who needed babysitting was Whitney, and if she had she would've fervently declined.

There was no use speculating about it now, because she sealed her fate as she rounded another corner that led into the rear courtyard of the school. He was waiting for her there, a lit cigarette in hand and two burly looking boys flanking either side of him.

"Grab her," she heard Whitney say. Knowing she was fucked, she made one last ditch effort for the fence, but the boys grabbed her before she could put a shoe in the chain link and attempt to haul herself up. One of the boys seized her book bag off her shoulder roughly and threw it somewhere she couldn't see, while the other boy grabbed her by the waist and flung her to the ground, momentarily crushing one of her hands with his shoe. They pinned her down, and she hissed from the weight of their knees digging into the flesh of her forearms. Sand and grass clung to her damp hair and clothes as she struggled against them. Whitney just watched as she thrashed her legs at him, a small smirk on his face.

He crouched down and squatted over her thighs, eyeing her over. "Mornin', slut."

This was the happiest she'd ever seen him. She realized he would be quite handsome if it weren't for the harsh scowl that always seemed to be on his face, one brown eye usually covered by a curtain of dirty blonde hair. He took a lazy puff from his cigarette as he studied her, letting the ashes fall onto her squirming body beneath him. She tried to raise her legs to push him away from her, but at some point in the scuffle the boys who had been chasing her had arrived and were now pinning each of her legs down.

"Uh, uh, uh," he scolded playfully. "No running away this time."

Nora began to panic as his gaze shifted to a sliver of bare skin that had been exposed where her shirt had ridden up, for the first time genuinely afraid of him. Without thinking she gathered as much saliva as she could manage in her mouth and spat it in his direction, not caring if it hit him and mostly hoping to redirect his attention. She could handle getting knocked around by bullies; it was when their eyes lingered a little too long on her body, a voracious, nervous spike of energy in the air that sounded the alarm bells in her mind. She recalled the girl from that morning, and the vacant, far off look on her face, and the conversation she'd had with Bailey.

Maybe this was something she'd just have to get used to, but for now she wasn't ready to stop fighting.

Whitney cursed at her, and his large hand grabbed her by the jaw and slammed her head hard into the ground. She tried to blink away the stars forming in her vision, doing her best to level her breathing and not groan out in pain. "You don't know when to quit, do you?" He grumbled.

He looked at one of his friends and flicked his head in Nora's direction. "Cover her mouth."

The boy hesitated, but still crouched obediently down where Nora's head lay on the cold ground. "But what if she bites me?" He asked pitifully.

"For fuck's sake, use your fucking tie!" Whitney spat. He looked around impatiently, looking out for anyone who'd come and spoil this moment for him. The boy's necktie was soon thrust into Nora's already dry mouth, the little fibers sticking grossly to her tongue and removing what little moisture she did have left. Closing her eyes, she huffed hot air through her nose in an effort to calm herself, almost as impatient as Whitney for this to be over.

Satisfied that she wouldn't try to spit on him again and that she was slowly becoming more docile the more energy she spent, Whitney's attention returned to her body. He peeled her shirt up even further, exposing her belly and the underwiring of her cheap bra. Nora willed her panting to slow, but it only made the rise and fall of her stomach faster. Whitney smirked.

"I've been waiting for this all summer," he said, unable to hide the hatred in his voice despite the calculatedly calm air he was projecting. "But I'm sure you already know that."

There was a sizzle, and a searing pain bloomed from a spot under Nora's ribcage. She closed her eyes involuntarily as she flinched and couldn't stop a small whimper from escaping, the sound fortunately muffled by the fabric stuffed in her mouth. She struggled again under the crushing weight on her limbs as dull hot flashes creeped over the expanse of her skin, desperate to wrest herself free and sweating in spite of the cool temperature outside.

Whitney sat fully on top of her now, gloating at her discomfort before discarding the now put out cigarette. He cupped her jaw with his hand, almost delicately this time, and leaned down to her ear.

"You're mine, bitch. We're gonna have a lot of fun this year."

She held his gaze once he leaned back up to look at her, her eyes burning in defiance. Bring it on, she thought bitterly. He scowled, looking a little less pleased with himself, and opened his mouth to say something else when somebody's hushed voice interrupted him. "Doren's coming!"

Whitney and his friends scrambled, the weight that had been crushing Nora blissfully leaving her aching bones. Immediately she ripped the necktie out of her mouth and gasped, taking in a deep breath of fresh, cold air. "See ya around, slut!" Whitney yelled, the laughter of his friends growing dimmer as she pushed herself to sit up and cradled her sore arms into her chest.

Robin appeared, kneeling down on the ground beside her, and she saw Doren's shaggy mop of red hair following closely behind with a wolfish look almost hidden under his impressive beard.

"You alright, lass?" Doren asked as he came near, his voice gruff and unhappy. Nora nodded, wincing as he helped her up.

"Take her to the nurse," he said to Robin. "I'll write you a note if you're late. I'm goin' to go have myself a talk with Mr. Clark."

"No, it's okay." Nora said. She waved off Robin who had begun to gently tug her in the direction of the infirmary. "I'm fine. Can't we just wait in your room?" The burn mark on her stomach screamed in protest at her, but she grit her teeth and ignored it. She was not going to the nurse on her first day if she could help it.

Doren, who had been staring off grumpily in the direction of the pathway that Whitney and his friends had ran away down, turned and fixed her with a glare in the way only a disappointed teacher can.

"Nora," he started, sounding a bit exasperated, like he couldn't believe she was arguing with him but was too tired to put up a fight. He looked down and noticed the discarded necktie and cigarette lying in the grass. His eyes narrowed, but he sighed as he bent down to pick up the tie, tucking it into the back pocket of his pants.

"Fine," he said. "But go clean up first." And with that he left them at a purposeful pace, his large frame taking up most of the path.

Nora slumped with relief and faced Robin. He shifted uncomfortably next to her, his big doe eyes silently asking her if she was okay.

"Don't look at me like that," she bristled.

His eyes widened at her tone, and she ignored the pang of guilt it roused in her in favor of finding her book bag. He hadn't done anything wrong. In fact, he'd saved her by finding Doren, but Nora was overwhelmed and figured she had enough on her plate without having to worry about upsetting him. She raked her eyes over the courtyard in search of her bag.

"It's over here," she heard Robin say, his voice soft. She turned and watched him bend to pick it up, extending her hand to take it from him. Instead he threw it over his shoulder and gestured without looking at her for her to follow him down the short pathway and in through the glass doors of the school's rear entrance. Nora put on her best poker face as students in the hallway stared at her, caught off guard by her disheveled appearance. She could feel the sand dislodging from her body as she walked, and when she looked down at herself she saw her socks and shoes were caked in it, her skirt wrinkled and off kilter. She discretely fixed it, rotating it back into place by the waistband.

Apart from shameless staring, they made it to the toilets unbothered. Robin waited outside for her, still guarding her book bag like it was something precious and doing his best not to fidget under the attention on them.

Mercifully the girls bathroom was empty, because Nora's reflection startled her as she walked in. Blades of grass stuck awkwardly in clumps of damp hair on the back of her head, the ponytail she had put it in this morning looser than ever. She wrestled it out of its hair band, wincing as she combed her fingers through it and carelessly pulled hairs from her scalp. She must've tugged too hard because the elastic of the band snapped apart, shooting on to the tiled floor.

Every muscle in her body flexed in sharp annoyance, her anger over whatever cruel joke the universe must be playing on her barely being contained. She turned the sink on and dunked her head under it. The water was cool and felt good against her warm face. She opened her eyes and watched the little gray dots of sand being washed down the drain, wishing she could shrink herself down and follow them.

She gave herself an extra moment under the water before reaching blindly for the paper towel dispenser on the wall, cranking it a couple times and collecting the towels it spat out. She did her best to soak up the excess water from her hair and used the soggy paper to scrub the sand off the exposed skin of her arms and knees. The burn on her stomach tingled as she moved, and she lifted up the hem of her shirt to inspect it.

It was yellowing slightly, bubbling into a small blister with the skin encircling it an angry red. Unsure of what to do, she got a fresh paper towel and dampened it with some soapy water, patting it onto her skin without applying too much pressure and then dabbing it dry. That would have to do.

The door opened and a few girls walked in, their chattering quieting a little after noticing Nora quickly dropping the hem of her shirt. That was her cue. She brushed past them and tossed the used paper towels into the bin, catching the door before it could swing closed.

Robin was standing against the wall opposite the toilets. He handed her her book bag as she approached him.

"Thanks," she said a bit sheepishly. "Sorry for snapping at you."

"It's okay," he said. She could see his features visibly relax as they fell into step together. He suggested they go get their schedules and locker combinations from the front office before heading to Doren's classroom where they could wait for the first bell to ring, and she agreed, eager to pretend this was just a regular morning at school.

If he was worried Whitney would make another appearance on their way, Robin didn't show it, but she could feel him sneaking glances at her in her peripheral. It was strange to her how he towered over her now. For the longest time they were similar heights and she didn't have to crane her neck to see his eyes. It felt wrong, his growth spurt something uncontrollable like a helium balloon slipping out of her grasp. Even stranger, she kept noticing now that she looked more presentable that they were still being stared at, but it wasn't her fault anymore. They were staring at him. If he noticed the two girls huddled by a row of lockers, ogling him and whispering to each other, he didn't show that either.

She knew there was a chance he could be building up the courage to ask her about Whitney and she really didn't want to have to answer, so instead she brought up something she knew he'd be excited to talk about. "What are you doing after school? I don't have to work, but Sam said he had something for me at the cafe."

"I'm not doing anything," Robin smiled. "I'll swing by with you. Do you have any idea what it is?"

Nora shook her head. "Maybe he's firing me," she joked, although after this morning she wouldn't be surprised if that ended up being true. What was one more cosmic punch to the gut?

"Well, you're welcome to work at the lemonade stand with me." He said, nudging her. "I'll put in a good word for you."

Nora smiled but it didn't quite reach her eyes. Robin made next to nothing at the stand, working only on the weekends. If there weren't enough tourists for the cafe, then there most definitely weren't any down at the beach. She never seemed to know how to tell him he was wasting his time there, but she'd have to figure out a way soon before it became too late for him.

They'd made it to the front office by that point and checked in with one of the counselors, giving their names and receiving their schedules and locker combinations. Their lockers unfortunately were very far apart, as they were sorted alphabetically by surname. Robin gestured for her to hand him her schedule as they left the way they came in, hopeful that they had at least a few classes together.

"You're lucky, you have Biology with Sirris," he said. "And it looks like we only have History together." He handed her back the schedule with a pout as they came up to the English classroom door. They knocked in case Doren was in there, but when they got no answer they opened it and went inside. He was most likely off giving Whitney and his friends detention, if he could find them. Nora didn't know whether she'd be worse off for Whitney being punished or better. It was probably the former.

She'd worry about that later, though. Instead she helped herself to one of the English textbooks Doren would be passing out later anyway, and sat down on a bean bag in a corner of the room. Robin followed and sat down in a chair next to her, taking out his cheap phone to play a mobile game.

Doren's classroom, and Doren by extension, had become one of her favorite things about school and would be one of the only things she'd miss after graduating. At first she just assumed he liked her because she was quiet and didn't disrupt class, but she eventually realized he kept an eye out for most of the orphans in the school. He always kept granola bars in his desk and random toiletries that he could pass to them in secret, and was always generous with deadlines for assignments. Some days he let her get away with eating lunch in there with him, but that generally wasn't allowed and she didn't want to press her luck with him.

She skimmed the table of contents of the textbook, flipping through to see if she recognized any of the short stories they'd be going over. Faint arcade music played from Robin's game, one she wasn't familiar with.

"Did he hurt you, Nora?" Robin asked softly.

"Huh?" She looked up from the textbook. He wasn't looking at her, his eyes trained on his phone. His brows were furrowed.

"Did he hurt you," he repeated, less of a question this time. "Before Doren and I got there."

"I'm fine," she started to say, but he turned to face her and her irritation died in her throat. She hated when he looked at her like that, like she was breaking his heart into tiny little pieces. His game jingled to signal that his character had died, and he turned away from her again frowning.

"Why is he doing this to you? Who even is he?" He asked.

Even if Nora felt like telling him, she didn't know where to begin. "He's just some asshole," she said. She flipped a page, pretending to be looking at her book. "He doesn't have anything better to do."

Robin shook his head and sighed, probably frustrated with her but too afraid to push the issue. He tapped his phone to start his game over, the glow from the screen lighting up his face. "I just don't like when you get hurt," he said.

"You don't have to worry about me." She curled into herself, shrinking as far as she could into the bean bag.

"I know," he agreed. "That doesn't mean I won't, though."

Nora felt her own heart break in her chest.

---------------

Read Chapter 3 on tumblr here!

[casspurrjoybell-33]

Wreckless - Floating Embers

*Warning Adult Content*

Finnegan

Five hours later the sun has risen and the fire is contained enough to take stock of the damage even from the barricade I'm behind.

It's not a total loss, at least not to my untrained eye.

The warehouse seems to have the most damage but half of the production floor is gone too.

Both may need to be completely rebuilt due to water damage.

The offices, somehow, don't look too bad.

I have no idea if the sprinklers went off or not and of course the fire department soaked the entire area but maybe that wing is salvageable.

I speak with the EMT's and fire chief and as far as they know, no one was in the building.

No firefighters have been hurt, either.

Apparently the security guard called it in and he was the only one around.

Good... Buildings can be rebuilt, people can't be.

I flag down the fire inspector but he refuses to give me any information, just takes my business card.

It's fair, he doesn't know much more than I do yet.

The biggest question is how it started.

If it's due to our negligence, insurance will be a nightmare.

Either way, what's next?

I call my father and the department heads and tell them the little I know.

All hourly employees and low-tiered salaried employees will get today and tomorrow off with pay.

I need to have Megan rent space in a hotel nearby so that we can start strategizing tomorrow.

I need some sleep... I need Emmett.

I feel bad showing up at his door but luckily he hasn't left for work.

"Hey darling, come in."

"I should have gone home, I'm sorry, I just... your place is closer."

"It is and I'm here so there's that. How is it?"

I repeat what I told my father earlier... I'm on autopilot. 

"It's a disaster. Parts of the warehouse are still burning."

"I'm so sorry, darling," he says, pulling me into his arms.

He feels amazing but now that I'm not surrounded by it... all I can smell is rancid smoke.

"I stink."

"I'm going to a garage, not to church. Can you get some sleep or do you have a full day?"

"I need a few hours, I have to."

I'm going to be no good to anyone if I don't. 

I'm not lucky enough to be one of those people who can survive and sometimes even thrive on five or six hours of sleep and last night I got much less than that.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"No, no, go to work. Can I sleep here?" 

The thought of getting back into my car and going to my apartment is too much to handle right now.

"Of course you can. There's a spare key in the wooden box on my dresser. Lock the door behind me and call me if you need me. There's yogurt and cereal, make sure you eat. Stay as long as you want and come back whenever you can."

He's too good to me, really.

"Okay, thank you. Really. Go, don't be late, I'm fine."

He kisses my dirty, stubbly cheek.

"Be safe," and then he's gone.

It's odd being in the house without him.

I've become fairly comfortable here over the past few weeks but everything shifts when he walks out the door.

I'm fine but it's strange.

I head upstairs to get out of these dirty clothes.

Thankfully he has a working washer, at least.

I decide to wash mine before the smell permeates through the entire house and take them down.

Back upstairs I go, intent on finding the key so that I don't forget it later.

I've seen the box he mentioned... I know which one he means.

I open it and it's obviously a treasure box of sorts.

There's a picture on top... him and his mother when he's maybe fourteen.

He's gangly and boy but definitely on the cusp.

A letter written in a woman's flowing cursive.

Probably from her too.

A photo of him and some army buddies in BDUs.

They have helmets on and rifles against their chests and are seated in the back of a truck in a desert, somewhere.

Some army medals and pins and his dog tags.

Random coins, not American.

An old car key and what I'm pretty sure is the spare house key.

I put it onto my key ring and feel guilty for snooping even though I didn't any more than necessary and he gave me permission to look inside.

I can't get into bed with my hair smelling like this so I take a quick shower and then climb in.

It feels good to snuggle into familiar blankets and pillows, ones I share with Emmett.

I'm asleep before I can even make a mental list of things to do later today.

I wake up groggy and thirsty.... I brush my teeth, get some water, have some yogurt and call my father.

"Finn, I've talked to the board of directors and the fire inspector. I've given it some thought and I think you may as well come on home. There's no reason to rebuild in Baltimore and we won't be able to until the arson report and insurance payments come through. You've been gone awhile, I'm sure you'd like to get back home. We'll do right by the employees, if there's anyone you really think is an asset we'll see about a transfer."

I can't think. I haven't gotten much past 'come on home'.

Do I love Baltimore? No.

Do I love Emmett? Maybe.

I will miss him horribly, that's not up for debate.

We were supposed to have more time.

"I don't think it's a total loss. We already have the site and employees, shouldn't we wait for the fire inspector's report before we give up?"

I honestly don't know what else to say.

"Finnegan, I think you should come home at least for awhile. Your mother is worried sick and you need a break. You've got this afternoon and tomorrow, wrap up some lose ends and come home. Make sure there's a security detail posted and the site gets fenced off. If someone needs to fly out in a few weeks to assess the damage, see what we can salvage and put it on the market, we'll make it happen. Keep me posted and make sure you're taking care of yourself, son. See you soon."

He hangs up and the silence is deafening.

I wander into Emmett's spare room to check on Marten.

I just need something tangible right now, something real.

He's sleeping in his little hammock so I just sit next to the cage and try to think.

My cell-phone rings, it's Megan.

"Hello."

"You sound exhausted and I know you're busy, sorry to bother you Mr. Walker."

"I've got a conference room booked and I booked a room in the hotel as well, we got a huge discount and I thought it might come in handy. I emailed you all the information. If you tell me what time you'd like everyone there I can do an email blast to management."

"Nine a.m. Thank you. Bring in the top three we have left in accounting."

Not having a department head is going to make things much more difficult.

"I need whichever of our lawyers handle tax and insurance as well."

"Will do. Also, I canceled everything for the rest of the week except your Dept of Defence appointment... I just want to confirm whether you want that canceled or rescheduled."

Shit, I've been waiting on this appointment for so long that I forgot all about it.

It's been 'coming soon' for so long that it's become a non-entity.

The Department of Defense appointment is tricky because I'm sort of going behind my father's back.

They contacted us about a year ago asking us to bid on a job for circuit boards but my dad turned them down cold.

He refuses to help the military. I'm a bit more pragmatic.

Department of Defense contracts are lucrative... Very lucrative.

They rarely go belly-up even when the economy does.

They're flexible, we can bid on those that we can easily accommodate and only when we have the time and manpower.

I see no downsides... That's not true, there's one huge downside... the appointment is tomorrow and I'm supposed to be working with my team to shut everything down.

No, I'm not doing it... I'm not leaving Emmett and I'm not giving up.... Not yet.

"Don't cancel, I'll be there. What time is it again?"

"5:00 p.m. They say to arrive fifteen minutes early to clear security."

Right, I remember thinking it was going to be a long day and being surprised that the Department of Defense didn't close up shop earlier than that.

"Send me the info."

I should head back to the site now and see what I can find out.

I need to know how bad it is and when we can get on the site and into the offices to assess the damage.

I also need to get the whole area fenced off... the last thing we need is people squatting, vandalizing or robbing the place.

[greenshifttechnologies]

Choosing the Best Sprinkler Supplier: Vital Factors

Introduction

A well-designed sprinkler system is essential for maintaining lush and healthy lawns, gardens, and agricultural fields. To ensure the success of your irrigation project, it's crucial to partner with a reliable sprinkler supplier. This comprehensive guide will delve into the key considerations for selecting the right sprinkler supplier and provide insights into what to look for in a supplier.

Reputation and Experience When searching for a sprinkler supplier, reputation and experience should be your top priorities. Look for suppliers with a proven track record of delivering high-quality sprinkler systems and excellent customer service. Reading online reviews and seeking recommendations from trusted sources can help you gauge a supplier's reputation. Additionally, inquire about the supplier's experience in the industry and their knowledge of different types of sprinklers and irrigation systems.

Product Range and Quality A reputable sprinkler supplier should offer a diverse range of sprinkler products to meet the varied needs of customers. Assess the supplier's inventory to ensure they carry a wide selection of sprinklers, including rotor, spray, drip, and soaker systems. Furthermore, inquire about the quality of the products they offer. Quality sprinklers are more durable, efficient, and cost-effective in the long run.

Customization Options Every irrigation project is unique, and your supplier should be able to tailor their products and services to your specific needs. Choose a supplier who can provide customized solutions, whether you need sprinklers for a small garden or a large agricultural field. They should be willing to assess your site, offer expert advice, and design a sprinkler system that maximizes water efficiency.

Pricing and Affordability Cost is a significant factor when selecting a sprinkler supplier. While it's important to stay within your budget, be cautious of suppliers who offer extremely low prices, as this may indicate subpar quality. Request detailed quotes from multiple suppliers, and compare the pricing along with the features and benefits of their products. Look for suppliers who offer competitive prices without compromising on quality.

Availability of Spare Parts and Repairs A reliable sprinkler supplier should have readily available spare parts for their products and offer repair services. This ensures that your sprinkler system can be easily maintained and repaired in case of any issues. Ask potential suppliers about their spare parts inventory and their ability to provide timely repairs if needed.

Warranty and Support A strong warranty and excellent customer support are signs of a trustworthy sprinkler supplier. Inquire about the warranty terms for the sprinkler products you intend to purchase, including coverage for parts and labor. Additionally, assess the level of customer support provided by the supplier, such as their responsiveness to inquiries and willingness to address concerns promptly.

Environmental Considerations Water conservation is a critical concern in irrigation. Look for a sprinkler supplier that offers products designed for water efficiency, such as low-flow sprinklers and drip irrigation systems. A supplier committed to sustainability can help you reduce water usage and minimize the environmental impact of your irrigation project.

References and Testimonials Don't hesitate to ask potential suppliers for references or testimonials from previous clients. Contact these references to inquire about their experiences working with the supplier, including the quality of products, customer service, and overall satisfaction.

Conclusion

Selecting the right sprinkler supplier is a crucial step in the success of your irrigation project. Consider factors such as reputation, product range, customization options, pricing, spare parts availability, warranty, environmental considerations, and customer feedback when making your decision. By choosing a reliable and experienced supplier, you can ensure that your sprinkler system meets your specific needs and operates efficiently for years to come.

[mariacallous]

When Jay Bulckaert answered his phone, he was standing in a fire break clearing brush in Kam Lake, just outside of Yellowknife, the capital city of Canada’s Northwest Territories. Just miles away, a massive wildfire is stalking the city and threatening to move closer as the winds shift. Thousands of people have left Yellowknife since an evacuation order was announced Wednesday evening. Not Bulckaert, though, nor the other volunteers who showed up Friday morning to do whatever they could to stop the fire from razing the city of 20,000. “It’s all hands on deck,” he says.

They divvied up tasks as soon as they met up Friday. Doing admin work, driving buses and tractors, operating chain saws, feeding the crew—everyone brings something to the table. “Right now we’re clearing brush. Probably next we’ll be moving sprinklers. We’re just a rag-tag crew of locals that showed up here and volunteered to help the effort. We’re going to do whatever they ask us to do,” says Bulckaert, who normally works as a filmmaker.

Bulckaert doesn’t plan to leave, and won’t until officials force him to. He’s part of Yellowknife’s last line of defense. “This is my town,” he says. “I’m here until the bitter end.”

Yellowknife is in the southern portion of the Northwest Territories, sitting on the shore of Great Slave Lake, the deepest in North America and the world’s tenth largest by area. It is named for people of the Dene First Nation, a group of Indigenous peoples who together represent 28 percent of the territory’s population.

The city is surrounded by boreal forest, the world’s largest intact forest ecosystem, stretching from the tip of Newfoundland and Labrador in the east to Alaska in the west. In the part within the Northwest Territories, a collection of conifers—spruce, firs, pines—and other native plants are home to hundreds of species of wild animals, including bears, bison, beavers, wolves, ravens, and porcupines. At night, it’s not uncommon to see the Northern Lights dance across the treetops.

Two million hectares—more than 8,200 square miles—of this pristine wilderness has burned since May, in what is now the worst year on record for forest fires across Canada. More than 1,000 wildfires are currently burning across the country. This season, a total of 5,767 fires have been recorded. Together, they’ve burned 14 million hectares, an area roughly the size of the US state of Alabama, or the total area of Greece.

The Northwest Territories alone have 236 active fires right now. The one closest to Yellowknife—the territory’s only real city—is named ZF015. That fire, along with another closer to Ingraham Trail, a local highway, have “encircled” the city in flames, says territory information officer Mike Westwick. Across the North Slave region, thousands of people have been forced from their homes and into evacuation centers, strangers’ spare bedrooms, and camping trailers across Alberta, the closest province to the south of the territory.

On the phone from a rest stop in Grand Prairie, Alberta, nearly 1,200 kilometers from Yellowknife, recent high school graduate Naledi Ndlovu describes her family’s drive out of the city.

On Wednesday evening, they left the city in a convoy of three cars, just before the formal evacuation was ordered. Ndlovu says smoke and fire laced the edges of Highway 3, the only road out of town. Frantic wildlife, including bears, ran alongside the road, while others lay dead on the shoulder, having not been able to escape.

Ndlovu’s father gripped the steering wheel as the sun set and the sky darkened. The highway was packed with scared, frustrated drivers weaving from exhaustion through an endless haze of smoke. “At some point it got so smoky that we couldn’t see the cars in front of us,” Ndlovu says. “People were just panicking during that drive. People are trying to make it to the safety area as fast as they can—overtaking other people really fast.”

Along the way, the family’s Toyota Tundra pickup got rear-ended—not the only accident as people rushed to overtake others on the undivided highway. Then, a tire blew. When they got out to examine the truck, they discovered that all four of their rubber tires had deformed due to the heat of the road.

Ndlovu’s family will have to get a new set of tires before continuing to Calgary, another seven hours’ drive south.

Yellowknife is not the only community in the region under an evacuation order. The Dene communities of N’dilo, Dettah, and Kakisa were told to leave over the past week, as have the people of Hay River, Enterprise, Fort Smith, K’atlodeeche First Nation, and a handful of other towns.

Garth Carman left his Hay River home on Sunday afternoon, just as the evacuation order was issued for the town.

He and wife Linda had taken in five cats from people in Fort Smith when their evacuation order came in the day before. He loaded the cats into his new Jeep—along with his own three cats—and hit the road, with Linda following behind in her Subaru Legacy station wagon. As they made their way three hours east to Fort Resolution, a wave of flames rolled over the highway. Trees exploded. “Boom, boom, boom. They were coming towards us faster than you can run,” he says. “Instantly the air got super hot and humid, like looking into a kettle of boiling water.”

Trucks and trailers careened as they spun around to escape. In the chaos Carman lost track of his wife. Poor cell service and even worse internet connectivity made it impossible to find her. Only when he saw her Subaru in the Hay River airport parking lot did he learn she’d been sent to Alberta. Reunited since midweek at a friend’s house near the town of Valleyview, the pair are now taking care of 16 cats.

Back in Hay River, Ginger Murphy reckons a fifth of the town’s population, roughly 500 people, stayed behind despite the order to leave.

Each day since the town was evacuated, Murphy has woken by 8 am, grabbed a coffee, and checked in on people’s loved ones and pets. Once everyone has been accounted for, she heads over to Enterprise to look for the missing pets that displaced owners are fretting over. That town, about a half-hour drive south from Hay River, is about 90 percent destroyed, save for a handful of homes and city buildings. “Enterprise looks really bad,” she says. “A lot of it got burned.”

More than half of the Northwest Territories’ 45,000 people left their homes this month because of the threat of fire, and that number will only increase as more people heed the warnings of Yellowknife officials.

According to local officials, just over 5,100 vehicles have crossed over the Deh Cho bridge, which crosses the Mackenzie River about 300 kilometers south of Yellowknife. Another 1,500 people left Yellowknife by plane on Thursday, and near-hourly flights on military, charter, and commercial planes on Friday had room for 2,000 more. Airlines are asking people to crate their animals. It’s a lot to ask for many Yellowknifers, who tend to let their cats live a cage-free existence.

One of them is Theo, a handsome gray tabby with jade-colored eyes. As people left Yellowknife en masse, Megan Cooper, Theo’s owner, spent most of the week desperately trying to get back home to rescue him and her pup, Dandelion.

She’d been on vacation in Europe, but hadn’t been having a great time the past few days. Instead, she was glued to her phone, barely sleeping and desperately scrolling for information about the fires, about a possible evacuation, about how to get her pets to safety. Online, rumors swirled about the fire and what the city was doing about it, adding to the stress. She was wracked with guilt, unsure Theo would come if a stranger called him out of the brush.

She decided to hop on a high-speed train from Amsterdam to Paris and then board a nine-hour flight to Calgary, with every intention of making it back home to Yellowknife in time to pack her animals up in her van and head south. By the time she landed in Alberta, a friend of a friend—a total stranger—had lured Theo out by shaking a package of cat treats. Cooper will soon travel to Edmonton to be reunited with her pets who, at the time of writing, are en route to the city.

Cooper is trying to remain optimistic by reminding herself of the collective resilience of Yellowknife. The community is one stitched together by a mutual love for nature, adventure, and isolation. “It’s a capital city with people from wildly different backgrounds—a relatively large immigrant population, a mining town, a community on traditional Dene territory, and a hub for the Western Arctic,” she says. “Yellowknifers love being out on the land and are especially self-sufficient and capable people who trade easy access to some modern conveniences for the freedom and adventure that offers,” she says.

On the outskirts of Yellowknife, the city and private entrepreneurs have installed massive fuel breaks measuring 100 meters by 15,000 meters in efforts to stop the fire in its tracks. Firefighters from across Canada and from as far away as South Africa are working to suppress the fires closest to population centers. Ignition operations—setting intentional fires to eliminate fuel sources—have also been deployed alongside a maze of sprinklers and a coating of fire retardant.

The community and its allies are working shoulder to shoulder to save Yellowknife as the fire inches closer. It’s likely to hit the edge of the city this weekend if the weather continues to be uncooperative.

“The idea of it burning down is devastating,” says Cooper. “Nowhere can replace it.”

[firecps-ajman]

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[homesickgoodbyes]

random headcanons i have about VALORANT agents

(this got out of hand but heres some hcs i have that i like are pretty cool (probs pt. 1))

depending on the day, phoenix, skye, astra, chamber, kj, raze, neon, and reyna are completely non-understandable with their accents combined with their slang (this makes it terrible for anyone trying to talk to them about something important that day, especially when kj, raze, and skye are all hanging out together)

kj speaks in german whenever she's super mad but has also started to speak it more frequently after she teaches skye, raze, yoru, and cypher some german words (mainly curses or insults) [i had a friend whose family was Italian and she knew some words from it so she would teach us some of them. they were mainly curse words but it was funny when she called someone a bitch in Italian to their face during class]

phoenix, yoru, and jett all try to learn each other’s native languages (excluding phoenix). it takes them a while but they can at least understand them when it’s being spoken and can talk in basic sentence

people who can cook: skye, astra, cypher, brimstone, jett, sage, neon, omen, and sova

people who will cook when necessary but it is babysitter level of cooking: breach, yoru, viper, killjoy, and reyna

people who aren’t allowed to touch the kitchen with a ten-foot pole: phoenix, raze, KAY/O, chamber

the warm-up crew is a group that trains together a surprising amount

brim, sage, and viper usually train together (brim occasionally with breach)

when yoru, jett, and phoenix can’t sleep or get up early they go train together or, when they’re still up, sit and talk with kj and raze in their labs/the living area/or any of their rooms

phoenix will give anyone a hug (unless they say otherwise), usually side hugs but he’s almost always touching someone (jett or yoru mainly) in some way

(he stands close to people so their arms touch, he gives everyone a hug or high five when they leave, he ruffles yoru’s hair when he walks by or when he wakes up in the morning, he cuddles with jett and yoru whenever they’re sitting down together, he dances around with astra and neon after they make dinner, he shoves kj’s beanie down her head when they’re both stressed and tired, he flips jett’s hood up whenever he runs past and she’s stressed or upset since it makes her laugh, he flicks cyphers hat when they’re heading out on a mission)

skye always makes sure kj and raze go to sleep when she knows they'll be up late

those two care a lot about each other but they both have the unhealthy habit of locking themselves in their labs and messing around with gadgets. they used to have an alarm clock in there that brim got them so they wouldn't be in there for years, but it was destroyed after it scared kj so bad she wrecked her and raze's projects they've been working on for days

because she doesn't want kj and raze's projects to be ruined, skye always goes in quietly, sitting at one of the work stations or on a couch (that appears after several visits from skye, phoenix, jett, and yoru) and not speaking until one of the 2 notices her. she convinces them that they'll get more done/have more time if they sleep now and don't pass out and sleep for 2 days

skye, astra, and yoru talk to each other a lot, more than you would think

astra and yoru first became friends after they talked about their powers, since they both deal with dimensional stuff, yoru and skye became friends because they would both hangout when phoenix, jett, kj, and raze were on missions, practicing their flash aims. yoru introduced the two after he became a lot closer with them

astra and skye are both environmentalists and talk about the better ways they could fight and how to make the base more sustainable, which leads them (and neon and sage, sometimes yoru) to create a garden full of different plants from many people's home countries.

the garden becomes a community effort

kj and raze use spare/partly broken parts to make a sprinkler system

neon, jett, and brim use their plane to go and pick up supplies, since the base isn't really supplied for gardening

astra and skye plan everything out, and with the help of kj and viper, create the perfect place for it to be, close to the kitchen but still with plenty of light

viper modifies her poison walls and orbs to spray out water, which she gives to kj & raze on their sprinkler making journey

phoenix and yoru don't have any powers that help them with the gardening aspect, but phoenix burns away and dying or unnecessary plants in the building area while yoru uses his teleport to move supplies over

they have all the agents make a list of what they want to be grown in the garden. there's a big, ever-changing list in the kitchen that cypher updates when he gets confirmation that they can grow it and someone wants it

the garden ends up being multiple sections, each with its own climate to provide the best-growing environment for certain plants [it ends up being kind of like biosphere 2 if any of you know what that is/has been there]

after they set the garden up, agents can sign up to make food for the Protocol

astra shows phoenix how to make food from her home country

skye and brim have a bbq off

kj and raze swap recipes and meals, when they make them just for themselves

reyna signs up with raze one day and the kitchen somehow doesn’t explode, but they do end up making some fire food

skye/astra will bring the agents who are training/working food that’s comforting but also healthy so they don’t pass out

sage, jett, and neon make food for lunar new year and everyone thinks it’s amazing

all the agents have groups that they’ll train with/hang out after training with (like in warm up)

jett, phoenix, and yoru always train together, no matter who else joins

kj and raze train together a lot too, but raze will also train with reyna sometimes

skye trains with yoru a lot, as well as kj and raze. she’s trained with neon more recently

sage and viper train together a lot, as well as brim. these three train with omen a lot too, and brim with breach

sova trains with anyone who’s in the training room (mostly) but likes to train with phoenix and jett a lot (yoru’s growing on him)

sports are a big thing at the base, especially after phoenix joins (brim kept everything strictly professional before he joined but phoenix wore him down)

brim, neon, phoenix, jett, raze, and KAY/O all like basketball

viper, astra, phoenix, yoru, raze, skye, and reyna all like soccer

brim, KAY/O, and (eventually) breach all like baseball (KAY/O and breach mainly watch it cause brims watching it)

kj watches sports with raze & skye, but not usually on her own

sage, sova, skye, cypher, and kj all like watching non conventional sports like gymnastic, archery, track, etc. (mostly during the olympics)

chamber and omen don’t really watch sports but if it’s on then they’ll watch it

[hollyhomburg]

(tw: child abuse, child neglect, murder, fluff, found family) so i have this little headcanon that when the bily pups are growing up a bit, like- the youngest pup is about 8 or 9 and the eldest is around 16, the pack buy the lot across the street from their house and knock down the house so that hobi has more garden space. and it's not like the house had been lived in for the better part of the last 10 years anyway

so- the pack puts in a full real glass greenhouse for hobi's 40th birthday, something pretty and massive and wrote iron and glass because they've got the money to spare on something extravagant. maybe a big square like 20-20 in the footprint of the old house, so that he doesn't have to make the treck down the hill.

and he can work on his garden in the summer and watch the pups play with the sprinkler and play catch in the middle of the street when they want too. but it's quiet and residential so the pack never worries, the older pups dragging the smaller ones to the side of the road if there happens to be a car that passes, the smaller ones occasionally going over to beg their papa for green beens or strips of sour sorrel or sweet tomatoes.

only then, a pup happens to appear and it's not one of their own, during game time or out of the blue.

But hobi has seen this pup and the others that get off at the same buss stop, knows this one- that runs into the slightly shabby house at the end of the street without anyone to wait for him. they can't be older than 6 or so, too young to be left home alone for long.

this pup eats watermellon like they've never had anything better, smiles shyly and says please and thank you miss kim when the m/c walks out with snacks for the pups. they ask if they can help hobi in the garden in exchange for food. hobi smiles sadly, notices the warn shoes and the frayed too large edge of their clothes, and says that they can come by any time and take whatever they need from the garden.

i bet the food thing doesn't last for long, i bet the pack makes a little basket outside that's constantly full of things for the little one to come and get, and they make it clear that they're always welcome to walk to the end of the street and get a snack if they need it. i bet the others notice too, and send him back to his house with a whole bag of hand-me-down clothes from their pups and a note that if the pups parents need any help, or someone to watch their pup they're more than happy to offer it.

the pack gets no response,

but it's okay, the pup is there almost every day anyway, and it's not even their pup but it's gotten to the point where jinnie packs an extra lunch and sends it off with their youngest to give to the stray pup on the buss. Maybe they're best friends and 2 years older than the pup themselves, packed full of delicious snacks and enough food for dinner too.

the little one is always popping in hobi's garden, and hobi probably catches them sleeping on occasion in the greenhouse because it Dosen't have a lock and its warm, after that he puts a cot in there and blanket after blanket. oh- the heartbreak on hobi's face when he goes out there one morning and they're just staring at the stack and they reply, "i've never been in a nest before. i don't think i know what one looks like" because the idea of a pup thats never known the safety of a nest is heartbreaking.

and then on mothers day they come by to pick the purple flowers and come back with bruises instead.

they always have bruises, little ones that they can't excuse away with just normal kid playing. the pack thinks about doing something about it- contacting the authorities might do more harm then good because hobi's asked pointed questions more than once and gotten only the response. "alpha told me to be quiet when people ask me questions like that, are you gonna throw me out if i don't answer?"

but before they can do anything hobi wakes up in the middle of the night to red and blue lights on their walls and a noise at the door, one of the older kids who always stays up late to listen to music pounding up the stairs, "dads! there's something wrong down the street! there's an ambulance."

and hobi has never run faster- robe whipping, not even bothering to put on his slippers. I have the image of him talking to the police officers, namjoon and jin and the m/c close behind telling them the situation, and hobi being allowed to go into the house and get the pup, wrapped in blankets and bundled safely in his arms.

i bet hearing namjoon is a doctor they have him check. but there isnt anything they can do for the pups parents- maybe a murder suicide, the pup only surviving because he hid himself in the house. i imagine they where crying so hard tearing bloody fingernails against the police officers when they tried to remove him from his hiding spot-

but i bet hobi was able to calm him down. and i bet with jin's past history and maybe the fact that he's registered within the foster services makes it easy for them to take temporary (and eventually full) custody of the pup, they give him one of the bunk beds in the baby rooms, with the two youngest pups, i bet they wake up after that first night to all three of them in the same bed, hobi would 100% make pancakes.

and every night they wake up yelling or flinch back from a hand that was only going to run their fingers through their hair the pack's hearts break a little bit, but they're all so so gentle with them. I just imagine tae waking up and reading them stories when they can't sleep, making a little fort in her library room for the pup. I imagine jungkook slinging them around at the beach in the summertime.

namjoon patching up their little booboo's and the m/c giving them a kiss just to make extra sure they heal well, jin giving them a little basket of food they can have access to that's just theirs and an allowance to fill it when they go to the grocery store to help handle their food insecurity issues.

and i imagine hobi coming out after the first fathers day that they spend together, the pup shyly flanked by their siblings- true siblings that have accepted them into their ranks just as easily as if they'd been born one of them. the rest of them proudly showing the sign they'd made (with help from yoongi probably) wooden and hanging nicely by the garden gate, that says 'hobi's garden' with a bunch of woodburned flowers and maybe on the back it even says "love (pup's name) happy dad's day" and god, hobi would be the biggest cry baby.

maybe the pup distribution in the pack is like, jin has one of namjoon's pups and then also has one by minnie, and the m/c has joon's second pup and one by taehyung. hobi doesn't have any pups- but with this one, the stray, he does.

[9r7g5h]

Rewind and Retry Part 1

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Boku no Hero Academia 

Rating: T

Genre: General

Summary: He must have taken enough damage to knock him unconscious, and that was why he was now remembering this of all things. Because why else would four-year-old Deku be looking down at him, hand outstretched, offering to pull him out of the water?

Words: 4117

Parts: P1, P2

AN: I'm new here (I haven't even finished season 3 of the anime yet, and I'm watching the first movie tomorrow with two of my people. We're making katsudon together! :D), but I've fallen in love with this show, and I've fallen hard. I have a ton of fic ideas, and I'm looking forward to writing them as I continue to learn about the world and the characters. I'm sorry if people seem out of character or if I get things wrong, since I'm not caught up yet, but this one especially didn't want to wait since I did have one specific scene spoiled for me. Hopefully you all still enjoy! I'm just glad to be here! 

Disclaimer: I do not own MHA.

He had no fucking clue what was going on.

He knew what had happened - Tokoyami had caught wind of a group his agency had been after for a while and called in for backup. He had been the closest, the warehouse the group had claimed as their own right on the edge of his patrol. Feathers had filled him, Dunce Face, and (annoyingly) Deku in after the extras appeared, and the four of them had burst in to take names and kick some ass.

A normal Tuesday, and a good way to end his shift, if anyone was to ask him.

But instead of the three enemies they had been warned about, almost triple the number had risen from the darkness, throwing quirk after unknown quirk against the newly minted pro heroes, trying to force them back into a corner to take them down. Something Katsuki had refused, point blank. He didn't care if these shitty asswipes outnumbered them over two-to-one, he knew the people at his back.

Knew that electricity, shadows, and the strong arms of his friends companions had him.

Which was what had led him to jump for the sprinklers above. He knew the water would work against him, diluting his sweat, but it would give Dunce Face the perfect conditions to take out a bunch at once, turning the tide in their favor. He might not get the credit of a final blow, something that would smart later when he was alone in his apartment, but right now wasn't the time for egos and pride.

It was about making sure they all got out alive so he could beat them later, so he could show them he was the best so he didn't have to go to another friend's funeral anytime soon. So he jumped, the explosions already building in his palms, ready to set off the sprinklers that would end this.

Except he never landed. He never landed because so many quirks landed instead, too many sensations for him to process as his body froze, muscles tensing, everything about him boiling to a halt as he felt too much within a second to spare driving him into the ground below. His palms fizzled and sparked, and it must have been enough because he felt the rain, the pure clean mist brushing over his skin as multiple voices screamed for him, the loudest (always the loudest) a terrified "Kacchan" with a hand reached out and-

"Are you ok, Kacchan?"

It's not a full grown man's hand. It's not a full grown man's voice. It's not the eyes of a full grown man looking at him, but the eyes and the voice and the hand of a small child, one firmly burned into his memory, that meets him. That's held out to him. That asks about his well being, concern and fear edging the words as he speaks.

"The brain does strange things while in danger," Recovery Girl had once said, during their mandatory first aid classes, "things to protect itself from harm. Wounds will be ignored, trauma will be funny, and if someone is knocked out, their mind might fill in the emptiness with something else. A memory, or a dream so life-like it feels like one. Why, I do not know, but it can lead to some interesting results when interacting with head injuries during rescue missions..."

"That was a really big fall! Are you ok?"

That had to explain it. He must have taken enough damage to knock him unconscious, and that was why he was now remembering this of all things. Because why else would four-year-old Deku be looking down at him, hand outstretched, offering to pull him out of the water?

Katsuki knew how this memory had to go. He knew that, last time, he had knocked away Deku's hand. Had called him useless, worthless, the same tired phrases that had somehow still managed to live into their high school days. Had continued to think that, somehow, the most genuine friend he had ever had was looking down on him just for asking if he needed help. Instead of accepting, Katsuki had slapped away Deku's hand and begun hating the boy, something he had only within the last few years been able to stop. Had been able to apologize and begin to make amends for, even if he did occasionally fall into his old habits. Even if his twist of emotions occasionally made it hard.

"Kacchan?"

He knew what he was supposed to do, in this weird dream memory his mind had created to keep itself safe. He should replay what had happened, despite the regret he now had for the action and the many that would come to follow. It was the safe route, the known, easy. But...

"I'm ok, Deku. Thanks."

A cocky smile as he took the outstretched hand, using it to help pull himself to his feet, because when did he ever choose easy? He let the other boy fawn over him, praising his strength for coming out the other side of "such" a big fall without a scrape, the others calling down their praises from the log above. Because of course they did - this was what his childhood had been like, from what he remembered.

No wonder his ego had been so large, and it had been so easy to turn against Izuku. Too many people made it easy to do so, even Izuku himself.

"You know," Katsuki finally said as they climbed up the riverbank, looking over his shoulder, "you got to me fast. It was pretty impressive. Maybe Dekus aren't useless after all."

A piss poor attempt at a compliment, no apology in sight, but still it made the other four year old gleam, his smile the brightest thing Katsuki remembered seeing. It wasn't much, it was nothing in the grand scheme of things, but it still felt good, seeing that smile. When he was awake, in the real world, that smile was often fake for the world, tinged with exhaustion around their friends, and often just gone around him, Izuku letting his hero mask fall in the safety of one of their homes, trusting their strained and slowly rebuilt friendship with this, at least. He knew others saw more, held him when he cried when he got there too late to save someone, let him rant and rage at the injustice in the world, could easily make him laugh without trying; but he at least had what he had, and that was enough. More than he deserved.

And here, in this memory dream, tiny hand holding tiny hand to pull Izuku over the last bump to get him back on the main path, his smile still the widest Katsuki ever remembered it, it was enough.

"Let's head home for today." The others agreed, though it was clearly an order, not a request. The other boys quickly fell back in line behind them, though if the other three wanted to question why Katsuki still held so tightly to Izuku's hand, none of them said a word. Instead they all just quietly marched back along the path they had blazed so many times before, passed through the hole in the fence, and slowly began peeling off as they reached their own streets to go home. A peaceful journey, all things considered, when normally their group was rambunctious and always causing trouble, but a peace that was happily accepted until it was just the two of them. The two of them slowing to a stop in front of Inko's building, hands still clasped tightly together.

"Kacchan? I should go inside now." Izuku made to let go, but paused as Katsuki gave a squeeze, his signature scowl burning into the side of the building. "Kacchan?"

"You can become a hero if you want," Katsuki finally said, using their linked hands to pull Izuku into a hug. "You'll have to train, because right now you're just a shitty nerd who's going to break all your bones and get yourself hurt if you try and become a hero, because you're too weak to protect yourself and help anyone, but if you train, you can."

And fuck, he could already feel Izuku shaking, his shoulder growing wet again as he cried into the fabric of his shirt, little hands clutching at him. Even in this made up world he wasn't good at this kind of shit, couldn't get through a single day without making him cry, because he was clearly just the worst and-

"Thank you, Kacchan." Izuku interrupted his internal scolding, lifting his head to show that yes, he was crying, big fat tears covering his cheeks, but he was also smiling. A smile wide and pure and enough to soothe the ache that had been building in Katsuki's chest for who knew how long. "You're the best, Kacchan, and if you say I can become a hero after I train, I'm gonna train the hardest and become a hero right next to you! We'll be the best heroes in the world."

"You're getting snot on my shirt, shitty nerd." And yet he made no try to move away as Izuku buried his face back into his shoulder, holding him close, his free hand rubbing soothingly over his back. "You'll also have to stop being such a crybaby, but it's ok for now. I'll protect you when you cry."

A watery laugh as Izuku finally took a step back, rubbing at his ruddy cheeks, only spreading the water and goo instead of getting rid of it. Disgusting, and yet he couldn't help his small smile, even as he refused to look down at the mess on his shirt. "I'll do my best, Kacchan. I'll see you later?"

"Of course, nerd. And who knows? Maybe Deku will be the name of a famous hero one day."

He didn't stick around for the renewed waterworks, especially as Inko opened the door to their apartment and called for Izuku, not paying attention as she waved to him as she watched him walk away from her happily sobbing child. And honestly he barely paid attention to the rest of the day. Katsuki knew he got home somehow, the house shockingly familiar to how he remembered it (though, no true shock there). It was strange, going from living alone to once again living under your parents, especially when you dropped roughly twenty years and a couple of feet, but he got through it without exploding anyone or anything, honestly enjoying the simplicity of it all.

Who knew he would have missed cartoons and snuggling with his parents on the couch? Absolutely wild, even if the old hag was still too naggy for his taste.

But going to bed, feeling exhaustion pulling at his eyes, Katsuki was sure it was a sign he would be done soon. Who fell asleep in a dream and didn't wake up in the real world? He'd probably wake up in the hospital, Deku hovering by his side like always and a doctor to rattle on long enough to piss him off. He would forget this small feeling of absolution, this slight lessening of his guilt, and life would go back to normal.

Except it didn't.

It didn't, because he woke up at five the next morning in a body that was still too small, in a room he hadn't lived in for years, with just enough control of his quirk to not set the All Might themed bedspread on fire.

It was then that maybe, just maybe, he started to panic.

Or, rather, not panic, because Ground Zero didn't panic. He left that bullshit to the extras, to the people it was his duty to save. No, if anything, he just became increasingly concerned that he was still four years old, still apparently trapped in whatever coma dream he'd been forced into.

When he woke up he was going to steal Feather's kneecaps and beat him with them. Who gave out such shitty partial information like that? How the fuck had he survived his time as a sidekick and made it to being a fully registered pro if he couldn't even use his sentient quirk to get a head count?

Shit he'd have to beat out of him later, once he woke up. Because right now, even as he did the wrist and arm exercises that had become natural to him over the last decade (?), he was only four. Physically four years old with all the memories of his mid-twenties, and the bullshit that came with it. Meaning Feathers was also some sniveling brat, and wouldn't survive a Howser blast to face yet.

If he even existed here, seeing as this was all in his head.

Damn it. He could really do with blowing something up.

Instead Katsuki slipped out of bed, careful to avoid the long since memorized squeaking portions of the house as he searched. For what, he wasn't entirely sure - for something off, for some kind of sign that this wasn't real, for a wavery patch in the scenery that would force his brain to accept the truth and force him awake. That's how it happened in the movies his idiots always forced him to watch, which was the most he could go off of. It's not like he was knocked unconscious regularly, and even when he was pulled into a rescue mission, he often just focused on getting the people to safety. He didn't stick around to ask in depth questions about what they had dreamt about when they woke up, though maybe he should start.

Might be good to know if this was common, for the future. Just in case.

But by the time his dad scooped him up and delivered him to the kitchen for breakfast, both of his parents asking worriedly if he had slept alright, the entire house had been thoroughly searched. Books had been flipped through, dust bunnies had been chased from under the couch, and he had even given himself a shallow cut on the palm of his hand, the pain doing nothing to wake him. Nothing had flickered, no one had offered him some weird colored pills in exchange for the truth; life, as far as he knew, was perfectly in order.

It fucking sucked.

Even if the first breakfast he hadn't had to make for himself in months was fan-fucking-tastic (a sentiment that got him smacked on the back of the head for swearing), it was also wrong. He didn't want to be stuck as some helpless toddler. He wanted to be back in his adult body, fighting villains to protect the city, rising through the ranks, all that jazz. He had shit to do, damn it, and lazing around in a coma while his brain replayed happy family wasn't going to cut it.

Though, it was cute when, after breakfast, Izuku's voice called for him from behind the door, asking him to once again come play.

"I should ground you for your language, you damn brat," Mitsuki growled even as she grabbed his plate and dropped a kiss onto his forehead. "But maybe Inko's brat will be a good influence on you. Get out of here, and be back in time for dinner."

His dad just smiled and slipped him a few bucks, enough to get both him and Izuku some lunch from a vendor near the park, and within a few minutes he was gone. Gone out the door, down the stairs, his hand automatically reaching for and grabbing Deku's in his own as he continued his search for the thing that would wake him from this... not nightmare, it couldn't be a nightmare with how brightly Izuku was smiling at him, something he hadn't done in years, but from whatever this was that kept him from his reality.

Even if the small warmth in his hand was nice, he still knew he would have to let it go, and the sooner the better.

So they spent the day searching - not that Deku knew, no, he just followed Katsuki close behind, asking questions and rambling into the silence when he got no response, filling the air himself. He'd always been good at that, taking what should have been awkward and making it easy, allowing others to exist within his presence. Deku had never needed an audience, just a friend or two to hear him out and, unlike him, he was content.

A closeness Katsuki was grateful for, even if he'd never show it. Because as the day wore on and nothing activated the cutscene worthy awakening he had imagined, his totally appropriate concern just continued to grow, only held at bay by the mumbling and hand.

What if he didn't wake up?

Statistically he knew it was unlikely. Even in just the few years he and his class had all been working, things had come so far in the medical field. Not everything could be fixed, no, but most limb damage could be healed, and the last person to exist in a long term coma had been decades ago. New quirks helped advance everything in leaps and bounds, and even just a few days ago people had been asking if this was the end of mortality as humans knew it.

Utter horseshit, of course, but the basis was there. Statistically, he would be up and moving within two weeks.

Statistically.

He'd always been good in school, but still, he didn't want to run the numbers.

"Kacchan, how do you train to be a hero?"

He’d almost forgotten that he had company, Deku’s constant stream of conversation cut off when he’d used the few bucks his dad had slipped him to buy them some late afternoon ice cream. Again, he’d been rewarded with another smile and a perky “Thank you, Kacchan!” before he had fallen silent, the two of them snacking in quiet. But now, by the uncharacteristic furrow between his brow, it was clear the little four year old’s brain was working hard, trying to come up with the answer on his own.

“By working out, duh,” he replied, taking a bite of his own slowly melting treat. “You don’t have a quirk to train, so you need to train your body instead. Lots of running, lifting heavy things, shit like that. You need to make yourself strong enough to keep up with the rest of us, otherwise you’ll be too easy to beat. Then you really won’t be able to be a hero.” He tried to curb his annoyance and language - he was speaking to a child, after all, even if his last memory of said “child” was him covered in blood, again, from pounding villains into dust. He’d have to wait until he woke up to see if that blood was someone else’s, though he already had a lecture prepared if it wasn’t.

He’d carried that fucking nerd home from the hospital too many times to not have one ready, though he also knew it would just be the same apologetic smile, promise not to do it again, and few weeks of Deku being extra careful before it happened all again. At least he had stopped breaking bones so easily, not that it was much of a reassurance when he was almost bleeding out from getting impaled.

Katsuki was sure he was going to go gray before 30, and it would all be Deku’s fault. Once he woke up, that is.

“Could you help me?” Again pulled out of his thoughts by the same little voice, determination etched into every soft baby feature. “Kacchan is so amazing, with your help I’m sure I could train enough to be a hero too! Maybe even as great as All Might!”

And fuck it, he had already changed so much in just a single day. Instead of being the bully he remembered being, instead of reliving the past he felt shame for, at least in his head he could be kinder. Not soft, of course, because he didn’t do soft, wasn’t actually sure if that was something he could do, but he could at least do this.

“We can start your training at school tomorrow. I don’t want to hear any whining that I’m being too mean, ok? I won’t help a crybaby.”

If he hadn’t known otherwise, Katsuki would have thought that Izuku and his mother both had a water-based quirk centered around their crying, because the sheer amount of liquid that came from such a small body should have been impossible. But it was Deku, so all he did was throw some napkins at him and tell him to eat his ice cream, that they would have to go home soon and he didn’t need him sobbing in public like a baby when they walked. Easier said than done, though soon Deku was successful, even if he was still wiping at his eyes as Katsuki led him back home.

“Remember, Deku, we start tomorrow! No chickening out on me. Got it?”

A determined nod was all he got, his poor friend almost shriveled from dehydration by the time they got home, but it was there. The same spark he had seen when they had both first gotten into UA, that same little gleam that said he was ready to become All Might’s successor - even now it existed within this four year old phantom his memory had created.

He had a good imagination, he’d give himself that. At least if he was going to be stuck in this memory dream coma for a while, which was looking to be more and more likely the longer this went on, he wouldn’t be as bored as he’d always thought he would be.

It was still boring as fuck, because holy shit being four again was its own kind of torture. Even with having been out of school for a few years, he was still far beyond anything the teachers wanted to teach him. Sure, his hands shook a bit when he held the pencils, something that annoyed him to no end (just something he would have to practice, the muscle memory lacking in this and, most likely, the quirk usage as well), but he could read and mostly write and easily breeze his way through anything they put in front of him. The only thing that kept him entertained, besides the idea of training Izuku come the break, was playing with his own quirk at the table, small sparks playing across his fingers.

He knew he couldn’t push it, at least not yet. Not that he hadn’t tried - once again awake at five in the morning, wrist and arm exercises completed, he had tried to gather the control he once had over his powers. Focusing on his pores, on the building of sweat in his palms, the muscle twitches that ignited everything; it was all there, just under the surface, but weak. He couldn’t force the sweat production, not like he could when he was older. He could sense the muscles in his forearms and his palms, could feel them move sluggishly as each tiny little spark set off in his hands, but it was nothing like the almost painful spasms that gave him his larger blasts. And he knew even if he could let off something larger than these tiny pops, his shoulders couldn’t handle it. That all had come from years of training, from building himself into someone who could actually handle his quirk and not be destroyed by its power.

Maybe he could do the same for Deku. He didn’t know how far this dream would go, but maybe, if it went far enough, by the time he became All Might’s successor, he’d actually be ready to accept it. Or at least maybe keep him from breaking himself so badly, something the poor nerd needed all the help accomplishing.

And even if it was all in his head, even if he would forget all of this when he woke up in reality, even if none of this was real, it still felt good to have Deku smile at him when he asked how his training would start. It was entirely selfish, but he had over a decade to make up for, and this small little bit of fake reparations helped.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Deku?”

Another nod, his eyes watery but determined as they stood away from the others in their class. The boys Katsuki normally played with watched curiously from the sidelines, but none of them moved to interfere.

“I’m ready, Kacchan!”

“Then get ready to die!”

He could do this, at least until he woke up.

[nugnthopkns]

dance me to the end of love (iv)

word count: 4.1k

warnings: fem!oc, cursing, alcohol consumption

series masterpost: here

a/n: my apologies for the delay!! life got crazy for a bit but i'm back with my two favourite idiot intellectuals

Magdalene stays busy to keep the loneliness at bay.

All of her friends have left Denver, doing whatever it is that hockey players and their partners do in the off-season. She never expected them to stay to keep her company, and would certainly never ask. Besides, they were all so excited to go home and visit family. How could she disrupt their happiness just so she wouldn’t feel so alone? It isn’t her fault that Ryan, Bette, and company aren’t estranged from their families like she is. At twenty-five she should be a little more self sufficient than what she currently is, but Magdalene is working hard at being kinder to herself.

To combat the pervasive loneliness Magdalene spends a lot of time in the heart of downtown Denver. Under normal circumstances she would hate the crowds, but now they comfort her. The swaths of tourists walking the streets and approaching her to take family photos make her feel like a part of something bigger than the pity she finds herself wallowing in often. Barn Owl Books also becomes a frequent retreat when she has downtime, and the owners enjoy when she brings Caligula around. Other patrons adore the white cat and he loves the attention.

One day as she’s leaving work, once again offering to stay late so June doesn’t have to, Magdalene’s phone rings. She contemplates not picking it up, wanting nothing more than to curl into bed with the novel she picked up at Barn Owl the other day, but she knows it must be important. No one ever calls her around this time unless it’s absolutely necessary. Digging the phone out of her pocket, she sees the number of her building superintendent Paul flashing on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Miss Stevenson?” he asks, voice tinged with the toughness that comes with dealing with upset renters on a regular basis.

Magdalene chuckles at the formality, pointing out he hasn’t called her by her last name since she moved in five years ago. “Yeah Paul, it’s me. What’s up?”

There’s the crackle of static on the phone line as the man clears his throat. “So, uh, some bad news.” Magdalene’s stomach twists into an intricate knot. She knows she paid rent on time and can’t think of another reason he’d call her. “A sprinkler main on the floor above yours burst about an hour ago, and it’s pretty bad. Your place definitely got hit the hardest because it’s directly under where the pipe burst. You’re going to have to move out for at least two months while we gut the place and start from scratch. How quickly can you come and get the things that are salvageable from your apartment?”

“Fuck.” This is the worst news Magdalene has ever received. “I can be there in fifteen minutes,” she panics, “But Paul, you’ve gotta go inside and check on my cat. He’s going to be freaking out.”

Paul agrees to visit Caligula after some prodding, and Magdalene drives much faster than she ever has before through the neighbourhood. It’s far from reckless, but she knows that it isn’t the safest course of action. A police officer stops her about three minutes from her final destination but lets Magdalene go after she explains the situation as calmly as possible.

Other tenants affected by the flood are already moving boxes down the stairs when Magdalene pulls up. Everyone is understandably grief stricken, but she can’t find it in herself to console them like she would under normal circumstances. All Magdalene cares about is making sure Caligula is okay. She sprints up the four flights of stairs and doesn’t even break a sweat, adrenaline flooding her veins. Her apartment door is ajar, most likely from Paul entering a few minutes ago, and she flings it open with more force than probably needed. It swings back violently on its hinges and makes a spectacular crash when it hits the wall.

“Caligula?”

“He’s in the bathroom,” Paul sighs. “I can’t get him out of the tub but he’s still breathing. Is he not scared of water?”

Magdalene lets out a breath of relief she didn’t know she was holding in. She treads deeper into the apartment, casually assessing the damage, before reaching the room in question. There, pressed against the far corner of the tub, is the fluffy white cat that Magdalene’s heart beats for most days. Paul is there too, leaning against the sink and shaking his head.

“Thank you,” Magdalene says sincerely. “I’ve got it from here.”

The superintendent exits the unit with a solemn goodbye and heads to the lobby, no doubt going to direct traffic flow and answer questions. It takes a few minutes but Magdalene coaxes the cat out of the tub and into her arms. She holds him tightly and whispers words of praise, knowing it will help to calm them both down. After an uncounted amount of minutes Magdalene moves them into the bedroom, that looks surprisingly intact upon first glance, and changes out of her work clothes and into something more suitable for rummaging around her destroyed home. Caligula climbs up her body and settles gingerly into the hood on her sweatshirt. She starts in the bedroom, and finds that the only thing that’s actually salvageable is the clothes in her closet. Grabbing the suitcase from the top shelf, Magdalene shoves everything inside of it and wheels it into the living room.

She spends the next few hours going through every room in a meticulous manner, desperate to keep relics from her life in Denver. The water did a number on her space and destroyed almost everything. All the furniture is a write-off, and most of her books and records are ruined. Two things that withstood the damage are faux marble busts of Augustus and Marcus Aurelius, which Magdalene packs into one of the boxes Paul dropped off. Everything else fits in three other boxes and they’re tucked into the trunk of her car before the sun sets. Paul insists that the demolition company will get rid of everything else and ensures her she won’t have to pay rent while the construction is going on. It isn’t much of a consultation, considering that Magdalene has no idea where she’ll be staying, but she thanks him anyways as she makes the final trip to her car with Caligula.

Once inside, Magdalene breaks down. She has no idea what to do – no one is in Denver to help her out and she can’t afford to stay in a hotel for however many months this is going to take to fix. Tyson and Bette will be back in just over a month, but Magdalene doesn’t want to bother them or guilt them into coming back early. She cries in the driver’s seat of her car for a while, Caligula on her lap and doing his best to lick up the tears streaming down her cheeks. Not knowing what else to do, she dials Ryan’s number. Though they haven’t been talking as frequently due to the time difference and Magdalene’s insistence he enjoys his time with family, she knows he’ll pick up and listen intently. He’ll also hopefully talk her down from the imaginary ledge she’s found herself on.

He picks up on the second ring. “How’s my favourite girl?” Ryan asks, and Magdalene can hear the smile in his voice. The combination of his voice and the words spoken has her choking on another sob. “Hey, hey, breathe.” Concern is now the primary emotion expressed through the phone line. “Mags, what’s the matter?”

It takes her a few seconds and multiple pads of Caligula’s paws into her stomach for Magdalene to calm down, but she eventually tells Ryan what happened. He listens just as she thought he would, and keeps her breathing steady with his voice. She cries a bit more before running out of tears, but Ryan keeps her focussed on anything but the shitty circumstance she’s found herself victim to – detailing how he skated with Nate earlier in the day and just how many times his teammate kicked his ass. Hearing the mundane story helps more than Magdalene thought it would, and when Ryan asks her where she’s going to stay she responds with a relatively strong voice.

“I’m just going to sleep in my car.”

“Fuck no you aren’t.” The certainty in which Ryan utters the words takes Magdalene by surprise. For someone so far away, he has a lot of opinions on what she should be doing.

She sighs. “There isn’t another option Ry. I can’t afford a hotel for the months my apartment is going to be out of commission and there’s no point in renting another place.”

“Stay with me.”

A series of flabbergasted noises come out of Magdalene’s dropped jaw, but she can’t form any words. Ryan continues, “Think about Caligula. Being cramped in a car isn’t going to be good for him. Or for you. I have an extra bedroom you can call your own for as long as you need. Please Mags.”

Truthfully, it’s the best she’s going to get. Bette and Tyson offered to house a couple of rookies this season, meaning their spare rooms are filled, and there’s no one else she’s close enough with to think about asking. “I don’t want to intrude,” she sighs, but it isn’t a very convincing deflection.

“I want you there,” Ryan insists, “And little boots too.”

It takes them a while to work out the logistics, but Ryan makes a couple of calls and lets the doorman of his building know Magdalene is moving in. He also books a flight for the next day, and ensures her that he’s more than ready to come back to Colorado. They talk for a few more minutes, and in that time she gets directions to her temporary home. Once Ryan hangs up with well wishes and a see-you-soon, Magdalene looks in her rear-view mirror and sets out for a part of Denver she never thought she’d live in.

☼☼☼☼

When Magdalene calls Bette to fill her in on what’s been going on while on the way to pick Ryan up from the airport, the blonde is taken aback by the surplus of information. “Hold on,” she breathes, “Ryan’s coming back to Denver?”

“What part of ‘I’m on my way to the airport to pick up Ryan’ was confusing?” Magdalene laughs.

Her friend doesn’t find the jest funny. “Fuck off.” The comment only increases Magdalene’s laughter, but Bette forges on with the conversation. “Can you recap the events that led to Ryan leaving home nearly three weeks early?”

Magdalene indulges her friend, explaining for what feels like the hundredth time that her apartment was destroyed in a flood and that Ryan offered her his spare bedroom and that he was coming home so she wouldn’t be alone in the unfamiliar environment. Bette listens in silence, and Magdalene imagines she has a shit-eating grin plastered on her face. She’s made quite a few comments about how friendly the two of them seem, but Magdalene does her best to shrug them off. Ryan can just be her friend, a great one even, without Bette projecting her need to have her best friend to have an identical lifestyle to her. Even if she’s right, and Magdalene does want there to be something more between her and Ryan.

“Hold the phone.” Magdalene hears Tyson shout, no doubt getting closer to his girlfriend so he can join in on the conversation. “Gravy’s letting you stay at his place?”

“Yeah…” she trails off, unsure about what wasn’t clear this time.

Tyson hums as though he’s an old-school anthropologist who just made an astute observation about the group they’re studying. “Interesting.”

“How so?”

“Well for starters, he barely lets us hang out at his place,” Tyson explains. “I think I’ve been there maybe twice. So that’s new. Is Caligula staying with you?”

Magdalene is completely confused. “Why wouldn’t he be? He’s my cat.”

“How does Gravy feel about it?”

“What the fuck are you getting at Tys?” Magdalene asks, but there’s a bite to the question. She’s tired of the impromptu interrogation he’s providing. “Because Ryan was excited to have him around. Last night I sent him a video of little boots prancing around the condo like he owned the place and he thought it was hilarious.”

Bette, who had been silent for several minutes, gasps loudly. Tyson laughs, but Magdalene can tell it’s riddled with disbelief. “Mags,” he says gently, though with more than enough teasing laced in, “Gravy isn’t a big pet guy.”

The comment hits Magdalene like a tonne of bricks. What is she supposed to do with that information? There’s only ten more minutes until she gets to the airport, and she needs time to push Tyson’s comment to the back of her brain and collect herself. Magdalene gives a rushed farewell before hanging up the phone and checking her rearview mirror and blindspots. The radio filters back through the car speakers, but she doesn’t hear it, too caught up in what Ryan allowing Caligula to share his space means. There’s little traffic on the off-ramp and before she knows it Magdalene is pulling into a parking space and killing the engine.

She grabs the messily scribbled welcome home banner from the back seat before locking the doors and heading inside to the arrivals section. The inside of the airport looks similar to the empty parking lot – it’s a Tuesday after all. Only a few others wait with her for the plane, and many chat idly amongst themselves. Magdalene stays off to the side in an attempt to not get sucked into a conversation about the upcoming thunderstorm. Passengers slowly trickle through the open door, and Ryan is easy to spot. He towers above everyone and is carrying a rather large bag of hockey equipment. Magdalene smiles at the sight of him, unable to help herself. It’s been nearly a month and a half since she’s seen him and being apart for that long is something she never wants to do again.

“Hi,” she breathes as he approaches, waving awkwardly while she speaks. It’s as though she hasn’t spent countless hours talking with him about every possible topic her mind could dream up.

Ryan doesn’t feel the tension, or if he does he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he wraps her in a tight hug that lasts a touch longer than one with just a friend should, especially in public. Magdalene tries hard not to melt into his side but it’s nearly impossible – Ryan has a magnetic pull that tugs on her heartstrings and makes her insides feel fuzzy. Others bustling around the terminal start to give them strange looks, and it’s only then that Ryan clears his throat and untangles his arms from Magdalene’s waist.

He smiles down at the strong-willed brunette with kind eyes and shoulders his bag once more. “Let’s go home.”

☼☼☼☼

It takes a few days to settle into a routine, but once they do it’s glorious. Training camp doesn’t start for another three weeks, so Ryan spends his day doing light workouts and chilling with Caligula while Magdalene is at work. Once she gets home they make dinner and watch West Wing reruns on the cable network Ryan didn’t know he was even paying for. Their lives fit together seamlessly and it surprises Magdalene just how much she missed having a roommate – Bette moved out after their sophomore year of college, and it’s been just her and Caligula ever since. Though the personal space is nice, she likes being able to hear Ryan laugh at the meme she just sent or knocking on his door in the middle of night to ask if he wants ice cream.

Magdalene wakes up one Saturday to complete silence. It’s unsettling considering she hasn’t heard that since adopting her pet – Caligula sleeps next to her head and breathes loud enough that she’ll never have to buy a white noise machine. She notices her door is slightly ajar and hears soft noises coming from the living room. Ryan must be taking a day off, Magdalene notes, because he’s typically out of the house by seven and it’s currently five minutes past eight. She rolls out of bed and stumbles into the ensuite, brushing the tangles out of her hair and washing her face.

Not bothering to change out the pyjama pants and hoodie she stole from Ryan, Magdalene pads into the sunlit living room to see her roommate doing yoga. On a tiny mat beside him is Caligula, stretching his limbs like he’s following along with the tutorial. The sight is adorable, and before she can think twice about it Magdalene is snapping a photo of the two of them and posting it to her Instagram story.

“You trying to whip my cat into shape Graves?” Magdalene teases, weaving around them and plopping onto the couch, bringing her knees to her chin and holding in a yawn.

Ryan laughs, loud and care-free, and Magdalene wishes he could record the sound and play it on loop. “He kept trying to sit underneath me and I didn’t want to hurt him. I read somewhere that if you give a cat something similar to what you’re doing they’ll leave you alone. Guess it really works.”

Her heart constricts in the best way possible. Ryan continues to go above and beyond to make her and Caligula welcome and doesn’t seem to mind they’re the ones invading his space and not the other way around. There’s still twenty minutes left on the YouTube video he’s watching, so Magdalene pushes herself off the expensive leather sectional and into the kitchen. The least she could do is make breakfast. Deciding on pancakes, Magdalene gets to work prepping the batter and warming up the frying pan. She hums absentmindedly to the Joni Mitchell song playing on the small radio she placed in the kitchen window. Music always made cooking more enjoyable for her, and Ryan doesn’t seem to mind the device taking up space.

The island is set and the food ready by the time Ryan slides into his seat, small beads of sweat lingering on his forehead from the workout. Magdalene resists the urge to wipe them away and instead busies herself with placing the right amount of berries on his plate.

“Mags,” Ryan calls softly, pulling her out of her mind and back down to Earth. “That’s more than enough. Sit down and eat before it gets cold.”

They eat in silence until Caligula appears, meowing for whatever scraps he can get his hands on. Against Magdalene’s pleas Ryan feeds him a blueberry. The cat sniffs it inquisitively before swallowing it, though it comes up again a few moments later.

“You’re cleaning that one up bud,” she laughs, bending down to make sure Caligula is okay before rinsing her plate in the sink.

“Fuck.”

Ryan does as he’s told and helps Magdalene with the dishes before getting ready to head out for an unofficial team meeting. Camp starts in a few days and Gabe wants to get together and make sure they’re all on the same page before barreling head-first into the season. He promises to pick them up a late lunch of sandwiches from Barn Owl and Magdalene follows him to the door to say goodbye. It feels natural, like they’ve always shared this routine, and she knows that Ryan feels it too because he wraps her in a tight hug before petting Caligula one last time and slipping out the door.

Bette calls soon after he leaves and grills Magdalene on all the details of her new living arrangement. She’s still in Canada, spending a few more days there than Tyson to help his mom and sister finish unpacking their things at the house they recently purchased.

“So, have you kissed him yet?”

The question is asked in such a casual, Bette-like manner that Magdalene barely chokes on her water. “Bee, what the fuck?”

“Oh come off it Mags,” she sighs, “You like him. He likes you. The two of you live together now. It’s only a matter of time before the friendship turns into something more.”

The blonde is right about at least one thing – Magdalene has developed a steady crush on Ryan. She should have known being in such close proximity to him all the time would put her feelings into overdrive. However, she didn’t have another option other than to accept his offer when it was proposed nearly a month ago, so Magdalene is now being forced to deal with the repercussions.

“I have, in fact, not kissed Ryan,” Magdalene huffs. “But I’ve thought about it once or twice.”

A squeal tears from Bette’s throat and she forces her friend to share the details. Magdalene obliges mostly to get her off her back, but it does feel good to talk about it with someone. It’s a very long time since she’s had romantic feelings for anyone, and Magdalene is nearly giddy with excitement over the possibility of new-found love by the time Ryan gets home. She says farewell to Bette and promises to come over as soon as they're both in the same city again.

It’s later than both of them expected, so they decide to forgo lunch and instead cook an early dinner. Ryan wants chicken and Magdalene wants spaghetti, so naturally they compromise on a carbonara without the pork. The radio is cranked to the highest volume as they work, both singing along and in their own little worlds. Magdalene is in charge of cooking the pasta and Ryan sets about making the sauce, and more than once she catches him looking at her while he’s supposed to be stirring the mixture. She can’t be too mad, however, because each time their eyes meet she’s supposed to be doing her job too. Before too much time has passed the meal is ready. It cools on two plates while Caligula is fed and wine is poured – the former done by Magdalene because the cat still isn’t quite comfortable enough with Ryan. Once sitting, they raise their glasses in a silent toast and dig in. The pasta tastes heavenly, and Magdalene makes sure to say so.

“Oh my god this is delicious,” she nearly moans, “You have to make this like every night.”

Ryan laughs and raises his fingers in mock salute. “You got it boss.”

Conversation flows into how they spent their hours apart – Ryan gushing about how good it was to see his teammates again and Magdalene talking about how she caught up with Bette on the phone. She of course left out the part where she confessed feelings for her best friend to her other, more senior best friend. Dinner passes in the blink of an eye and soon the two of them are standing side by side at the sink, elbows knocking occasionally as they do the dishes.

“Want to watch a movie tonight?” Ryan asks nonchalantly. “You said earlier this week you wanted to see Clueless again.”

Magdalene smiles – of course he would remember this offhand comment she made a few days ago about the classic. “That sounds fantastic. Can you finish putting these away? I’m going to pop a couple blankets in the dryer to warm up and see if I can get a nice picture of the sunset for Bette, she mentioned on the phone that she’s missing it.”

“She literally hasn’t changed time zones!”

Laughter tumbles from Magdalene’s lips as she slips out of the kitchen. Two fluffy blankets are pulled from the back of the couch on her way down the hall and tossed into the machine. Grabbing the same sweater of Ryan’s she was wearing earlier in the day from the foot of her bed, Magdalene heads for the balcony door and slips through the glass.

The city is nearly silent. Cars pass under Ryan’s balcony like blips in the night, but they don’t dare touch the peaceful atmosphere radiating from Magdalene. She’s had one of the best nights of her life, just her and Ryan laughing over glasses of wine and the pasta dish they cooked together. It’s all so domestic and charged with stolen glances and soft smiles that Magdalene knows it’s more than two friends living together for a short period of time. There’s been a fundamental shift in their relationship but she doesn’t know how to address it, or if she even wants to despite her looming attraction. Being with Ryan is so easy that she forgets it’s only temporary. Realistically she knows it can’t last forever, but she finds herself hoping each day Paul will call and tell her the rebuild is taking longer than expected.

Ryan calls her inside, informing her the blankets are out of the dryer and the movie she picked out days ago is queued up on the television. Magdalene takes a deep breath and finishes her glass of wine in one gulp. Hopefully he won’t notice when she casually leans in and rests her head on his shoulder halfway through the film.

☼☼☼☼

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