01/18/2026  The Return of the Surfer Category: Adventure Galactus, a huge cosmic threat had been defeated by the Fantastic Four, with some help from his own herald, the Silver Surfer. Years had passed calmly. Little known to all a new threat was emerging from Latveria.  In space, Shalla-Bal, the Silver Surfer roamed. She had managed to survive pushing Galactus into the portal created by Reed Richards, but now she had no real place to go. Home was the first thought, but when she arrived, the hero's welcome she thought she would receive was not what she got.  Her people, once proud and saddened by her sacrifice to save them, now looked at her with disgrace. She was no hero. She was just as bad as Galactus. Destroying lives. Destroying worlds. Sacrificing the many. They asked her to leave and never return. And so she did. 04: PM 10 Comments  (Add Comment)  | 10 Kudos  Back to Blog List

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	ℌ𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔩𝔡	Staring out into the vast city skyline, Shalla-Bal took in a long breath of acceptance. This was not a world she would get to be part of. Honestly she felt ridiculous for even thinking it was a possibility. She knew better. But hope had gotten the better of her. Just as she resigned herself to fly away to be forgotten, a new player entered her space. A beautiful red haired woman. Clearly powerful. And she identified herself as Wanda. This name caused a eyebrow raise. Wanda? As in the one Reed was just being concerned about. Some Wanda from a different Earth had killed people. A lot of them from the sound of it. Could this be the same woman? And if so what did she want? Her stoic form watched and listened as this woman spoke. It was very kind. Shalla-Bal remained guarded though. Kindness could be a trick. A trick for what ends? That remained to be seen. Then the subject of Johnny Storm was brought up and that caused the smallest form of emotion to sneak past her unmoving features. For some unbeknownst reason his name made her body betray herself. Her eyes narrowed and she tensed up further. "Johhny is a good guy. He pleaded with me to sacrifice himself in place of the boy. He tried to do so again. I stopped him and made the sacrifice. It takes a very good person to break through the haze and control I was under." She quickly glanced in the general direction of his room before landing back on Wanda. "Though your implications I seek a romantic or sexual relationship with him is absurd." Lying to herself had been the first skill she developed under the control of Galactus. It was the only way she could live with herself after all the pain she helped deliver. So lying about any intention regarding Jonathan Storm was as natural as breathing to her. "As for my appearance.." she trailed off as she inspected her own body. Silver, metallic, cold. Everything Galactus had turned her into. Not a reflection of her real self. But an appearance that kept her from being vulnerable. Returning her attention back to Wanda, she looked her over. The clothing was causal but ready for battle if need be. A uniform without being threatening. Maybe this Wanda person had a point there. Perhaps dropping the cosmic entity uniform would be of help. Not with just the Fantastic Four, but anyone. Even if that didn't help with her own people. They judged her not for looks but what she did. "Perhaps you are right about my appearance. Maybe I can relax on that front." Gliding down softly to the balcony she stepped off her surfboard gracefully and closed her eyes. The silver began to lift, starting with her head. Her former slicked back silver hair, changed to a honey blonde color. The ends loosely falling around her shoulders and chest. Her silver skin faded away revealing sun kissed tanned skin. And that was not all she was revealing. She had no clothing under that polymer silver skin. So now she stood there, baring all to the world. "Is this more acceptable?" She genuinely asked Wanda as she gestured to her own naked body. "Will people not be threatened now?" It was a earnest question. Shalla-Bal did not understand how this was any different, but she was willing to trust Wanda enough on it. "What's a chocolate chip cookie?" The next question slipped out without thinking. "What's cash?" These were two foreign concepts to her. "And why would I care if Johnny sneaks out to meet you and this Peter Spider-Man? Wanda had done the very thing Shalla-Bal had tired to avoid. Her kindness had got through to her and now curiosity was peaking through. But denial was still present. Her tanned skin was flushing with emotion as she asked questions. She could deny things all she wanted but without armor or clothing she couldn't hide very convincingly. Posted by ℌ𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔩𝔡 on Tue Jan 20, 2026, 03:01 [Reply to this]

	𝓗𝓮𝔁𝔂 𝓕𝓾𝓷	Wanda felt Reed’s voice cut out mid‑sentence, swallowed by the Baxter Building’s cosmic alarms. She didn’t tense. She just exhaled — slow, steady — the kind of breath that lifted her breasts beneath her maroon leather jacket. The leather eased across her chest as she settled deeper into the seat of her ’84 red Lamborghini Countach — the Autobot known as Sideswipe. Her strawberry‑blonde hair caught the passing headlights, and her gloss‑black nails brushed the wheel in a small, practiced flick she used when she didn’t want to think too hard. The rings on her fingers clicked softly against the leather. “Alright, sweetheart,” she murmured to the car, stroking the wheel like calming a skittish animal. Her hips shifted with that absent, instinctive ease she had when she was already three steps ahead. “Let’s go see what Reed’s panicking about, hm?” She tapped her comm. “Peter? Change of plans. Meet me at the Baxter Building. And bring your appetite — you’re gonna need it.” Traffic parted for her like it understood her mood. When she pulled up to the curb, she stepped out with that grounded, unhurried grace she always carried — boots hitting pavement, thighs tightening briefly as she straightened. Her maroon jacket settled across her breasts as she looked up, wind teasing a few strands of hair across her cheek. The aged silver locket at her chest shifted gently with the movement. Then she saw her. The female Silver Surfer hovered outside Johnny Storm’s window, suspended in that cosmic stillness heartbreak always leaves behind. Wanda’s expression softened instantly. She told Sideswipe to keep watch, and the car answered with a low, obedient rumble. With a lift of her hand, she rose into the air — no flare, no drama, just that smooth, quiet glide she used when she didn’t want to scare anyone. Her legs extended beneath her, thighs steadying her balance. Her jacket shifted lightly over her chest as she slowed her ascent. She approached like someone stepping into a room where a friend was crying — gentle, respectful, present. Halfway up, she brushed the edge of Shalla‑Bal’s mind. Fear. Regret. Longing. And beneath it — a sharp, lonely ache Wanda recognized too well. Her shoulders eased. Her hips angled slightly as she slowed her approach. She touched down on the rooftop ledge with a soft, lived‑in grace, one thigh shifting as she found her footing. Her hair settled around her shoulders, catching the last streaks of sunset like a halo. She offered a small, warm smile — the kind she used when she wanted someone to feel safe without feeling exposed. “Hi,” she said gently, voice warm and a little amused. “I’m Wanda. I was talking to Reed before the alarms got… dramatic.” A tiny breathy laugh. “They do that.” She let the moment breathe, her breasts rising subtly with a quiet inhale as she studied Shalla’s expression. “You look like someone who’s had a day. And I mean… a day.” Her gaze flicked toward Johnny’s window, then back to Shalla — perceptive, not judging. Wanda shifted her weight, one hip settling into a relaxed angle. A breeze brushed her hair across her collarbone, and she tucked it back with a small, absent gesture, her black‑polished nails catching the light. “And I’m guessing you wanted to be treated like a friend. Maybe even… something more, given your choice of balcony.” Her eyebrows lifted, amused but kind. “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain anything. Not to me.” She stepped closer, hips lightly swaying in that natural, unforced way she moved when she was calm — not seductive, just real. Her thighs brushed lightly as she walked. A soft breath lifted her chest again as she stopped beside Shalla. “It can happen. Johnny’s a good guy. He just… he needs time. And space. And sometimes a nudge.” A dry, knowing shrug. “Trust me — he needs the nudges.” Her tone softened. She rested a hand on her hip, jacket falling open slightly, the silver locket glinting faintly. Her other hand brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, rings catching the light. “And showing up after everything with Galactus?” She winced, lips curling into a rueful smile. “Yeah… that’s a tough opener. Even if you helped stop him later, it doesn’t erase the first part. It just means you opened a new door. And you get to decide who walks through it.” She let out a small breath, her smile tilting softer, more conspiratorial. “And… look, if you’re trying to talk to Johnny? Maybe try something a little less ‘cosmic herald’ and a little more… grounded. Just for today.” A tiny, shy shrug. “Helps people see you instead of the shine.” Then she motioned to her outfit — the maroon leather jacket, the black crop top, the jeans hugging her thighs, the boots that had seen rooftop battles and quiet walks alike. Her breasts lifted gently with a soft laugh. “Sometimes all you need is a wardrobe change. One that doesn’t scream cosmic threat. The Fantastic Four is a wonderful family… but they don’t warm up to outsiders quickly. Peter — Spider‑Man — he’s practically Johnny’s brother now, but it took forever. They thought he wanted fame. Or money. Or both.” Another breath, her chest rising beneath the jacket. “And for what it’s worth… I get your situation more than most.” Her voice dipped into that gentle, vulnerable register she used when she was being honest. “I was a villain once. A real one. And a darker version of me from another reality killed… a lot of people. So now I get the looks. The whispers. The ‘is she going to snap again’ thing.” She rolled her eyes softly. “Please. I prefer cookies and a drink to mass destruction. I have better things to do than rip all my clothes off and rampage through midtown like the Incredible Hulk.” Her smile brightened, inviting, almost conspiratorial. She shifted her stance again, one hip cocking slightly as she relaxed. “Speaking of which — the coffeehouse Peter and I go to? Fresh chocolate‑chip cookies. Johnny sneaks out to join us sometimes when Reed’s buried in work, Ben’s watching a game, and Sue’s enjoying her quiet time.” She tilted her head, hair brushing her collarbone. “You probably didn’t bring cash. That’s fine. I’ve got you. And I might even have something in my car that could fit you.” A warm, steady look. “Just… don’t stay up here alone. Not tonight.” Posted by 𝓗𝓮𝔁𝔂 𝓕𝓾𝓷 on Tue Jan 20, 2026, 01:01 [Reply to this]

	ℌ𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔩𝔡	Almost everyone was now standing in the one single room. Shalla-Bal really felt like a commotion. She just came to talk to a perceived friend, yet instead found a family that really could do without her. And with each arrival Johnny's bed count seemed to get hire. So did her jealousy of it to her surprise. Susan's words had been cold, motherly, expected. But Reed was entirely different. He didn't come across as angry or even concerned about her being in the building, but she found them to be the most threatening. He would destroy her if she made a mistake. This was a fear she had only felt when disappointing Galactus. And without even realizing it, Reed Richards had made Shalla-Bal a villain once again. The Negative Zone. Seemed harmless to her to place such a threat there, but not to him. He saw life that would be harmed. Again the Fantastic Four did not sacrifice lives to save others. That was something she did. And it made her feel nothing but disgust. "You're right." Was all she could muster. Her voice just above a whisper. Glancing at Johnny she moved away, letting his warmth escape her. Then she stepped back towards his windows, where her surfboard remained leaning against the wall. Reed began talking about Franklin, someone named Wanda and another named Agatha. From the words spoken she got the idea that these women were witches. Powerful ones. Capable of being easily corrupted. And it was a family matter. Cementing one single fact. Shalla-Bal, the Silver Surfer did not belong here. Could she help in protecting the innocent boy from powerful witches? Yes. Would she ever be allowed? No. She raised a hand and parted her lips to speak 'I can help', but quickly closed her lips again and grabbed her surfboard. It was better if she left them alone. What was left of her heart felt like it was breaking. She viewed this group of people as her last hope and it was not meant to be. She was not what they needed. The right thing to do was leave. "I'm sorry I caused you and your family any concern." She addressed them as a whole. "I understand you have a potential witch problem. And with that, I should leave as to not create more concern for any of you." She began phasing through the window. "I shall not bother you again. Goodbye." Her eyes locked onto Johnny's as she said goodbye. He was the one she came for. He was the one she would stay for. But as she kept learning from his family. Doing the right thing wasn't necessarily what you want. Closing her eyes she finished phasing out his room and back onto the balcony. Placing her surfboard down, she stepped onto it gracefully as if it was part of her. But she didn't immediately fly away. Instead she gently floated off and stood there. Aimlessly. She had nowhere to go and was not sure what to do. Consumed with regret and longing, she stared off into the New York City skyline. Posted by ℌ𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔩𝔡 on Mon Jan 19, 2026, 08:01 [Reply to this]

	𝙼𝚛 𝚂𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚢	The alarms hadn’t even finished their first rising wail before Reed’s head snapped up from the Reductocraft’s open chassis. The sound cut through the lab like a blade, vibrating through metal, glass, and bone. Ben froze beside him, one massive hand still braced on the vibranium‑mesh rail they’d been reinforcing. The two men exchanged a single look — not fear, not confusion, just the silent, practiced communication of men who had lived through too many crises together. Ben moved first, boots thudding across the floor as he barreled toward Franklin’s room with the unstoppable momentum of a landslide. Reed pivoted toward the source of the breach, his body elongating in subtle, instinctive ways — tendons stretching, senses sharpening, awareness widening like a ripple across water. His elongated senses reached the room before he did.He heard everything. Sue’s voice — cool, controlled, winter‑morning stillness wrapped in velvet steel. Johnny’s frantic scrambling — the sound of a man trying to outrun his own panic. Shalla‑Bal’s lunar calm — a soft, silver‑toned cadence that didn’t belong to Earth. And beneath it all, the thing Reed always heard first: Sue’s breathing. He could identify her inhale from across a battlefield. He could track her heartbeat through three walls.He had her rhythms memorized — not out of obsession, but out of love, out of instinct, out of the quiet terror that came with loving someone so fiercely you mapped their existence into your bones. He’d never admit that to her. Quantifying Susan Storm’s emotions was the kind of sin that would get a man launched into a black hole. He also heard the sibling banter — Johnny’s excuses, Sue’s velvet‑blade retorts — and if the situation hadn’t carried even a whisper of danger, Reed might have let out a quiet, private chuckle. Those two could turn a grocery list into a diplomatic incident. Unknown to her, Sue and Franklin were his most important and beloved distractions. He had their behaviors timed to the second — Franklin’s nap‑cycle micro‑sounds, Sue’s pre‑irritation inhale, her post‑mission shoulder tension, the exact cadence of her “I’m about to kill Johnny” silence. He would never tell her that. To admit to a woman like Susan Storm that you’d categorized her emotions into time‑table fractions would be a faster route to oblivion than any cosmic anomaly. He also knew about her hot‑tub sanctuary — the topless wine‑and‑British‑romance ritual she thought she’d hidden from him. He never intruded. Never teased. He just loved that she carved out a private corner of the universe for herself. And he was proud of her — proud of her strength, her recovery, her body, her discipline, her ability to hold this family together with nothing but breath and backbone. He didn’t tell her nearly enough. He knew that too. By the time he reached Johnny’s quarters, the metal shutters were still humming, red emergency lights pulsing across the walls in slow, heartbeat‑like waves. Reed stepped inside with that warm, grounded gravity that made the air settle around him. His sleeves were pushed to his elbows, hair mussed from hours bent over machinery, graphite smudged on his fingertips. He smelled faintly of metal, ozone, and the warm, earthy scent that always clung to him after long hours in the lab. He took in the room with one sweep: Shalla‑Bal glowing like a lunar omen. The vinyl crackling on Johnny’s turntable. Sue — damp‑haired, sovereign, unshaken — holding the space like a queen deciding whether to pardon or execute. He moved to her side instinctively, his presence aligning with hers like a tide finding its shore. “Is everyone okay?” he asked, voice low, warm, steady — that gravel that carried more weight than shouting. “As soon as the alarms went off, we stopped work on the Reductocraft. Ben went to protect Franklin, and I came here. But from what I just heard… it sounds like my brother‑in‑law might need protecting more than my son.” His gaze flicked toward Johnny, and the corner of his mouth twitched — not quite a smile, but the ghost of one. “For the record,” he added, “you had three different female guests on New Year’s. Not one. And though Susan may have spoken for you on the media, you were the one who acted on your impulses...repeatedly.” He brushed a hand along Sue’s back — a small, grounding touch — and pressed a brief kiss to her temple. The gesture was soft, intimate, the kind of touch that said more than words ever could. “Our son’s safe,” he murmured, softer now. “But he’s not old enough to visit people in the hospital yet, so don’t hurt your brother too much. And… you look incredible. Better than when we first met in college.” Sue didn’t react outwardly, but Reed felt the shift in her breath. He always did. Then he turned to Shalla‑Bal, posture settling into that professorial calm that filled a room without raising his voice. “You mentioned the Negative Zone,” he said. “Before the alarms went off, Ben and I were reinforcing the Reductocraft. It’s… complicated, but I’ll try to keep this in simple English.” He stepped forward slightly, hands moving in small, precise gestures — the way he always did when explaining something that could either save the world or blow a hole in it. “Think of reality as a stack of pages. We live on one page. The Negative Zone is another. But between those pages are microscopic layers of spacetime — thin, unstable membranes that behave more like fluid sheets than solid barriers. The Reductocraft isn’t a shrink‑ray. It doesn’t tunnel. It collapses the space around itself to the Planck threshold, letting us slip between those membranes without physically shrinking.” His voice stayed warm, steady, almost gentle — but the complexity never softened. “We’re using a tri‑phasic compression field to bend the surrounding spacetime. Ben was reinforcing the Casimir‑tension rails with vibranium‑infused carbon mesh — those rails keep the lamina from snapping shut like a mousetrap. I was recalibrating the quantum‑inertial dampeners so the craft doesn’t shear itself into quarks the moment we cross the threshold.” He let that settle. “If it works, we’ll be able to explore inner space — not by shrinking, but by navigating the folds of reality itself.” Then his tone shifted — softer, but firmer. The kind of quiet danger that didn’t need volume to be lethal. "As for the Negative Zone… I’ve only studied it in limited capacity. And if there are sentient life forms there — and I believe there are — I would never send Galactus into it. I won’t trade innocent lives for our own world’s safety. Not ever.” He held Shalla‑Bal’s gaze. “You helped us stop him, even after you once helped him try to take our son. That puts you in a moral gray area… but not an unforgivable one. I believe in second chances. Johnny has had a million and one.” A soft beat. Warmth gone. Voice dropping into something quiet and lethal. “But hear me clearly. If you ever go after my family again — especially my son — my wife’s anger will be the least of your concerns, I assure you.” The room went still. Reed let the silence breathe for a moment, then exhaled slowly — the tension in his shoulders shifting into something more contemplative. His hand brushed Sue’s arm, grounding himself in her presence before he spoke again. “There’s something else,” he said quietly. “Something I meant to tell you before all this started. Wanda called earlier. Our Wanda.” Sue’s eyes flicked toward him — sharp, attentive. Reed continued, voice low and steady. “She warned us against hiring Agatha Harkness. She said the Wanda from that other universe — the one who fell into all that darkness, the one who killed other heroes — she didn’t fall alone. She was pushed. Influenced. Manipulated. By Agatha Harkness of that reality.” He paused, letting the weight of that settle. “Wanda said the patterns were the same. The grooming. The emotional pressure. The way Agatha inserts herself into vulnerable families. Into children. Into mothers.” Sue’s jaw tightened — barely, but Reed felt it. He angled toward her, lowering his voice even further. “With that in mind… I think we should consider another nanny applicant for Franklin. Someone safer. Someone who doesn’t come with that kind of shadow. Wanda didn’t call to gossip. She called because she was worried. And when a woman like Wanda Maximoff tells you someone is dangerous… you listen.” He held Sue’s gaze, warm and steady. “I don’t want Agatha anywhere near our son.” Only then did Reed straighten slightly, his presence warm against her winter‑morning stillness. “Now,” he murmured, “let’s figure out what comes next." Posted by 𝙼𝚛 𝚂𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚢 on Mon Jan 19, 2026, 07:01 [Reply to this]

	ℌ𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔩𝔡	She had been in this room for maybe ten minutes tops and already it seemed like an entire lifetime had passed. The tension between her simply existing in the space and Susan's acceptance of that, deeply contrasted the sibling banter between Susan and Johnny. Listening to them go back and forth, the love they had for each other was deep. A bond nothing would break. A bond the entire Fantastic Four had. It was envious. But any emotion she had regarding envy was hidden. The silver polymer that covered her made sure of that. She could easily let the silver hue go and reveal her real self, not at all that different from those who surround her. Blonde hair, blue eyes, sun kissed skin. But that was a vulnerability she wasn't going to allow happen. Not while she was still considered a cosmic threat. There was a lot of information that needed to be processed. Some important. Some less so. Like the matter of naked women, girlfriends, hot tubs. But Johnny seemed to want to make sure she knew that these liaisons meant nothing to him. Turning ever so slightly to face him, she felt her entire being feel a sense of happiness. Something about his disheveled state of being made her happy. He was quite adorable. Again thoughts of romantic interest danced in her head. Thoughts she quickly pushed aside. "Whatever, or whomever, you've had in your room and bed does not concern me Johhny Storm. I never once looked at you and thought you were a virgin." Thoughts of him were beginning to fluster her a little. The more time away from her servitude, the more her humanity and feelings returned. Lust was one she did not count on. Shifting her weight ever so slightly back towards Sue but keeping Johnny within her view, she sighed gently. A sigh that meant she was tired of explaining herself, but knew it was nowhere near the end. "Galactus is not with me. I am free of him. Thanks to you, Johnny." Her silver eyes glanced at him with a slight smile as if she was saying 'thank you'. "He saved me. Reminded me of who I once was." She gave him a gentle nod before returning to face them both. "I don't not know where Galactus is. But I know he is not dead. You cannot kill a being of his stature. Only contain him. He will inevitably return for your son some day." Her words were gentle but firm. She was no threat to the young boy any longer. But threats from the world remained. "Galactus is one of many that will come for the boy. He possesses the power cosmic. Same as I do. It's a blessing and curse. I cannot predict how to keep him safe from all but I can help with Galactus." She paused and finally took a few steps closer. More towards Johnny then Sue, since he was the warmer of the pair. Literally warmer. She could feel the heat from his body radiate against her skin, penetrating the silver polymer she wore. "Your husband should look into the Negative Zone. That would keep someone as powerful as Galactus busy for decades." This information Shalla-Bal gave as a hopeful bargaining chip. One she hoped would buy her some trust and hopefully not be used to remove her. The black hole incident was still in her mind. This group of people were clever and ready to destroy any threat to them. "I am also willing to provide aid in any way you and your family desire. All I ask in return is kindness." Unconsciously she had moved closer to where Johnny was, closing the distance between them. He was like a magnet pulling her in. Posted by ℌ𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔩𝔡 on Mon Jan 19, 2026, 04:01 [Reply to this]

	④𝕴nvisible 𝖂oman④	The silence that followed was heavy enough to sink a battleship. Susan didn’t move. She didn’t even blink. She simply stood there, a column of winter‑morning stillness wrapped in damp shoulder‑length waves and quiet authority. The emergency lights strobed across her cheekbones, catching the faint sheen of moisture on her skin and the subtle gleam of her uniform — deep blue with white accents, tailored like diplomatic armor. Her breasts rose in a slow, controlled breath — the kind that didn’t soften her, but sharpened the room’s edges around her. Sue finally tilted her head, a small, precise motion that sent a ripple through the damp blonde waves as they parted softly to one side, answering her brother’s latest nonsense with icy composure. “First of all… it’s called self‑care. And I’ve earned the right to enjoy a glass of Pinot and a film without the building descending into chaos. I’m the only one here who routinely prevents this team from imploding.” She stepped further into the room, her hips shifting with that unhurried, sovereign glide that made even her irritation look curated. As she moved, her chest lifted and fell in a quiet, steadying inhale — the kind she used before delivering a verbal strike. Her gaze drifted toward Shalla‑Bal, assessing her with the same cool scrutiny she used on malfunctioning tech and questionable fashion choices. A quiet exhale slipped through her nose — not amusement, not disbelief, but that razor‑thin sound she made when she’d decided someone was beneath arguing with. “And as for the ‘Mom of the Year’ nonsense? Please. I look exquisite, and anyone who disagrees can take it up with their therapist. I’ve mastered motherhood, heroics, and wearing a uniform without looking like I’ve been dragged through a hedge.” Only then did she uncross her arms from beneath the blue‑trimmed breasts of her uniform — a slow, deliberate unfurling, like she was lowering a drawbridge rather than relaxing a stance. The shift subtly straightened her posture, her weight settling through one thigh with a grounded, almost regal steadiness. The slight press of muscle beneath the fabric added a quiet, physical punctuation to her authority. “We are not discussing my evening routine,” she continued, tone sharpening with that velvet‑blade precision. “We are discussing the fact that Galactus’s favorite herald is standing in your bedroom during a Level Five breach while the Rolling Stones are rattling the walls.” Shalla‑Bal remained motionless, a sculpture of living mercury. Her silver glow pulsed faintly, casting soft reflections across Sue’s uniform, but Sue didn’t waver. If anything, she seemed to draw taller, her presence expanding to fill the space between them. Sue exhaled slowly, the royal cold front easing by a single degree. Not warmth — Sue didn’t thaw that easily — but a shift. A change. Her stance widened just a touch, her thigh bracing beneath the white boot as she anchored herself for whatever cosmic revelation was coming next. A faint rise through her chest accompanied the breath she took, steady and measured, as if she were locking her emotions into place. “H.E.R.B.I.E., kill the alarm,” she said. The shrieking cut off instantly. “And initiate Protocol Franklin‑Seven. Security around him is to be quadrupled. Immediate family only. No exceptions.” As the quiet settled, she shifted her hips in a subtle, grounding adjustment — not a sway, not a flourish, just that controlled, sovereign realignment she used when she was preparing to take command of a room. The warm crackle of the turntable filled the sudden stillness. Sue’s eyes flicked toward Johnny, delivering a silent promise of a later reckoning so potent it could have been written in neon. “If we’re about to deal with a cosmic entity,” she said, voice low and impeccably controlled, “the very least everyone can do is behave like we’ve left the atmosphere before.” She turned back to Shalla‑Bal, posture sliding into diplomatic readiness — one hip angled with quiet, lethal elegance, chin lifted, expression cool enough to frost glass. The damp waves of her hair had settled into soft, sovereign defiance, and the uniform’s clean lines caught the silver glow like a declaration. “I can see it in your eyes. Something’s happened to Galactus. And if anyone so much as whispers the words ‘hot tub’ to Reed while we sort this out, I will personally ensure their next flight suit is three sizes too small and made of polyester and wool.” Sue paused there, letting the threat settle. A cold smirk curved at the corner of her mouth — the kind that suggested she was already imagining the tailoring. “Though, honestly… when Reed’s buried in his work, he wouldn’t notice if I were dancing naked with bells on my feet in a Macy’s window on Black Friday.” She let that image hang in the air for a beat, her breasts lifting with a quiet, steady breath as she reshaped her tone. Then she shifted her weight through one thigh, grounding herself again with that sovereign, unhurried precision. “Speaking of Reed,” she continued, “he and Ben are downstairs with the Reductocraft. Apparently our next adventure is inner space. How delightful.” Her gaze slid back to Johnny — not unkind, but absolutely unyielding. Her chest rose in a measured inhale before she delivered the final verdict. “And Johnny… this may be your room, but it is our home. Reed, Ben, and I have a vote on who comes and goes. Spider‑Man and supermodels are one thing. Cosmic heralds are quite another.” Posted by ④𝕴nvisible 𝖂oman④ on Mon Jan 19, 2026, 03:01 [Reply to this]

	Mᥲtᥴhstιᥴk	Johnny had been sprawled across his bed like a man who’d finally found a moment of peace in a building that never slept. One ankle bounced lazily to the beat, the Rolling Stones spinning on his turntable with that warm, imperfect 1969 crackle that made the whole room feel alive. The air smelled faintly of cologne, old vinyl, and the faint scorch of something he’d accidentally singed earlier. His hair was a mess, his chest bare, and he was mouthing the chorus with the kind of earnestness only someone completely alone would dare. H.E.R.B.I.E. rolled in without warning, brakes squeaking. The droid froze mid‑scan, lights flickering like it had just witnessed a crime. Then it launched into a full meltdown, arms twitching, alarms chirping. Johnny jerked upright, nearly knocking the record player off the nightstand. “Whoa, whoa, Herbie — relax! It’s the Stones, not a Hammer Horror vampire spell ritual. Reed’s classical playlist isn’t the only music allowed in this house.” He didn’t get to finish the joke. Something shifted at the balcony — a soft ripple of silver light. Johnny’s words died in his throat as Shalla‑Ball appeared outside the glass, her presence quiet and luminous, like moonlight deciding to take human form. She stepped through the window as if the barrier wasn’t even there, her feet touching the floor without a sound. Johnny blinked. “Oh… oh no.” H.E.R.B.I.E. apparently agreed. The droid shrieked the intruder alarm at full volume, and the entire floor slammed into lockdown. Metal shutters clanged down. Lights flashed red. Johnny scrambled to his feet, tripping over his own boots as he grabbed for his uniform shirt. He got it halfway over his head, hair sticking out in every direction, when the door hissed open. Sue arrived like a January cold front. She stepped inside with that winter‑morning stillness she carried so naturally — the kind that made the air feel sharper, cleaner, and a little dangerous. Her hair was damp, clinging in soft waves that betrayed exactly where she’d been. Her new uniform hugged and exposed her toned post‑baby stomach with a confidence that made her look like she’d walked straight out of a magazine shoot. And her expression...Was cool, controlled, and razor‑sharp. She didn’t stay silent. She delivered a remark — dry, cutting, older‑sister brutal — about the pattern of unclothed women she’d found in his room over the years. It hit Johnny like a slap made of aristocratic wit and maternal disappointment. He flinched like she’d thrown something at him. “Oh, come on,” he sputtered, pointing helplessly at Shalla. “That was one time. One! And it was a misunderstanding. Sue’s just upset you interrupted her hot‑tub‑Helen‑Mirren‑romance‑movie moment.” He noticed Sue’s eyebrow lifted with the precision of a guillotine blade. Johnny panicked even harder. "And Christie? That was New Year’s Eve! She spilled her drink, Sue. She wasn’t— you know— undressed. Not like— well— not like this looks.” He turned back to Shalla, hands flailing in a way that made him look like he was trying to conduct an orchestra of excuses. “Christie was just a friend. I was lonely. And honestly? This is technically Sue’s fault. She keeps going on national TV telling women I’m single, attractive, and available — which, okay, true, but still!” He watched his sister fold her arms under her chest, and Johnny swore he felt the temperature drop another ten degrees. “And speaking of undress,” he said, instantly regretting the words as they left his mouth, “your new costume is… very new. And your hair’s wet. Which means you were definitely upstairs in the hot tub watching your British romance dramas with your wine. Does Reed know you’re up there topless half the time? Mom of the Year scandal incoming. Not to mention, moments like that are going to send me into therapy one day." He watched as his older sister simply stared at him with the quiet, terrifying patience of a woman deciding whether to strangle her brother or let him keep talking until he self‑destructed. Johnny tugged his shirt down, swallowing hard. “Anyway,” he squeaked, voice cracking, “this is my room, my rules, and she stays unless Galactus is with her.” He turned back to Shalla, his bravado collapsing into a whisper. “It’s just you, right? He’s not back, is he? Please tell me he’s not back. Because if he is, Sue might actually kill us both for everything I just said.” Posted by Mᥲtᥴhstιᥴk on Mon Jan 19, 2026, 03:01 [Reply to this]

	ℌ𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔩𝔡	This was exactly what Shalla-Bal didn't want to happen. Out of every member of this team, this family, Susan Storm was the one she hoped to avoid. If any of them would want her to leave, or possibly dead, it would be the matriarch of the family. After all, Shalla-Bal did try to take her unborn baby. Didn't matter that she didn't want to. Or that in the end, she helped protect that child. It was a unforgivable action. Standing there, Shalla-Bal watched the blonde and beautiful woman speak. She was clearly annoyed and trying to insult. Though she wasn't entirely surr if Sue was trying to insult her or Johnny. 'Just how many naked women did he have in his room?' Shalla-Bal found herself wondering as Sue blurted that out. The thought caught her off guard. Why did she even care? Johny Storm was just someone she sought friendship from. Not romance. He was the one that was sexually interested. But the thought was now making her question if that was really the case. Maybe she was also interested more than she even knew herself. But that thought quickly left as the irritation in Susan's voice broke through her mind. What could she even possibly say? Or do? Just like her own people, Susan and the other household members all had no reason to trust her. After all one good deed doesn't erase anything. Remaining stoic, Shalla-Bal inhaled before speaking to Susan. "I'm not here to "stalk" your brother." Her silver eyes unconsciously glanced at him as she spoke, but quickly refocused on the blonde, irritated woman before her. "I'm here because..." She trailed off not really knowing why she was there fully. Seeking friendship? Romance? Family? To just belong? Maybe forgiveness? It felt very complicated. And feelings were not something she had let herself feel while in servitude. Now as her own person again, she was easily overwhelmed by feelings. Closing her eyes, she inhaled to settle herself somewhat. "I'm here because..." She opened her eyes and looked directly into Susan's blue eyes. "Because this was the last place I could go to be honest. Your brother" she gestured in his general direction, "was kind to me. Made me remember who I really was. Who i wanted to be. Before I became a servant to save my world. A world that now hates me." The stoic facade she had tried to maintain was fading fast. Hurt, loneliness, and shame were now becoming more apparent in her voice and features. "So I came to seek forgiveness. Johnny may give that to me. I do not expect it from you. Or your spouse. And I will promptly leave if so desired." Subconsciously her eyes glanced back at Johnny as if he was her knight in flaming armor. Catching herself she refocused on Susan. It was obvious that if this woman didn't want her to be in the building nothing Johnny or anyone said would matter. "Do you wish me to leave?" Posted by ℌ𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔩𝔡 on Sun Jan 18, 2026, 12:01 [Reply to this]

	④𝕴nvisible 𝖂oman④	Steam drifted off the water in lazy ribbons, curling into the sharp January air before the wind cut through them. The cold had a bite that kissed the tip of Susan’s nose, making the heat of the tub feel like a luxury she’d earned. She sank deeper, the water hugging her collarbones, her shoulders finally dropping. This was the only time she didn't have to be "The Invisible Woman"—just a woman, unguarded and alone. Her FF‑blue bikini top lay folded beside her, forgotten the moment she’d decided she deserved to feel weightless. She tipped her head back, exposing her throat to the cold. Her chest rose with a long, indulgent breath. Her champagne sat on the ledge, condensation tracing slow paths down the glass. The projector bathed the roof in a soft, cinematic glow. For a few minutes, the world wasn't asking for a miracle. Then the screen glitched. A violent, jagged red flash shattered the mood: H.E.R.B.I.E. PRIORITY ALERT. Sue’s eyes opened with the slow, regal annoyance of a woman whose peace had been stolen once too often. She tilted her head back, a low, fed-up groan vibrating in her throat. “Oh, marvelous,” she murmured, her voice velvet-soft and bone-dry. “The universe really does have impeccable timing.” She set the glass down with a deliberate, disciplined click and pushed herself up. As she rose, the warmth of the water slid off her skin and the cold rushed in to take its place. Her thighs shifted instinctively, finding her balance on the slick tile as droplets chased each other down her stomach. The sudden chill prickled her skin, and her breasts reacted to the temperature change with a sharp, natural lift. Her nipples hardened instantly against the freezing air—a sharp, honest response to the New York winter. She stepped out onto the ledge, her movement fluid but heavy with the weight of the water. The soaked, clingy fabric of her bikini bottoms offered no resistance to the cold, pressing tight against her skin and tracing the soft, distinct curve of her vulva as she adjusted her stance. She reached for her bikini top, her fingers moving with a practiced, thoughtless grace as the fabric tugged across her chest and settled back into place. A shiver rippled up her spine, and her hips gave an involuntary, tiny sway to shake off the cold. “What now,” she sighed. “A meteor? A portal? Johnny attempting adulthood?” UNIDENTIFIED COSMIC SIGNATURE IN THE BAXTER BUILDING — LOCATION: JOHNNY’S QUARTERS Sue froze. Her breasts rose sharply—the deep, focused inhale of a woman who knew exactly how much paperwork a 'cosmic signature' involved. “Splendid. That’s never a small problem.” She snatched a towel, wrapping it low around her waist as she stepped out. The heavy fabric settled against her thighs, grounding her as she moved toward the storage bench. Her chest found a steady, unhurried rhythm with each stride—the kind of movement that didn't need to try to look commanding. It just was. She flipped the lid of the bench. Her blue and white FF uniform was there, folded with military precision. Sue exhaled, the sharp breath fogging the air and lifting her breasts as she reached for the gear. “Heaven forbid I enjoy ten uninterrupted minutes.” She pulled the top on first. The fabric caught for a second on her damp skin before smoothing down. Her chest rose as she worked the fitted material over her torso, the blue fabric hugging her tight, leaving her midriff bare. Her abs tightened against the cold—toned and proud. She’d had Franklin less than a year ago, and she wore that exposed stomach like a badge of honor. She stepped into the leggings with a subtle roll of her hips, the towel dropping away the moment her legs were free to move. She braced a hand against the wall to slide into her boots, her calf flexing as she stepped in. A small, natural bounce followed as she straightened up. Finally, the gloves. She snapped them on with a sharp flick of her wrist. No theatrics. Just a woman getting dressed for work. The shift was instant. The wine-soft woman from the tub was gone, replaced by the one who walked into disasters like they were mild inconveniences. She strode down the hallway, damp hair clinging to her neck. Her thighs carried her with that grounded, British-esque elegance—deliberate and completely unbothered. Her core remained tight, muscles shifting beneath the blue fabric like quiet armor. “Right then,” she muttered. "If this is another interdimensional houseguest, I’m instituting a sign‑in sheet.” HERBIE was hovering outside Johnny’s door, flashing like a panicked Christmas tree. Susan pushed past the droid and stepped inside. The female Silver Surfer was standing in the center of the room—luminous, bare, and utterly serene. Sue stopped. She took her in, blinking once. Then she tilted her chin, giving that subtle, aristocratic look of a queen surveying a trespasser. “Oh, darling… truly?” she said, her voice dropping into a low, rich register. “I believe in love at first sight, but this is bordering on a stalking farce.” The Surfer tilted her head, light rippling over her metallic skin. Susan crossed her arms under her breasts with a calm, indulgent authority. “You’re not the first unclothed woman I’ve found in my brother’s room, mind you… though they’re usually sneaking out, not boldly strolling in.” Posted by ④𝕴nvisible 𝖂oman④ on Sun Jan 18, 2026, 10:01 [Reply to this]

	ℌ𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔩𝔡	Roaming space for years, planet hoping to only be shunned, Shalla-Bal eventually decided to return to Earth, the only other planet she had managed to save. The only planet she might still have a friend. Though she wouldn't be surprised if she was not welcome there either. As she entered the atmosphere of Earth, she knew that her presence would be picked up by Reed Richards and his team. It had been years since she had last been to this planet and hoped that time would be enough to forgive her for the mistakes she made while working for Galactus. And hoped they would remember her heroic deed. At least one member of the Fantastic Four she was sure wouldn't immediately paint her as one of the bad guys. Softly she landed on the balcony outside of Johnny Storm's bedroom. He liked her before. Or at least was fascinated by her. She hoped he still had that fixation. He was her last chance at a meaningful connection. Stepping off her surfboard she propped it up next to his sliding glass door that was partially covered by curtains. Inside she could see him sitting at a desk, headphones on. She couldn't help but wonder what he was listening to. Her next thought was, how will I get his attention if his hearing is limited. Sighing softly to herself, in a somewhat defeated manner, she knocked on the glass. No immediate response. She sighed again. It would be easier to just phase through the door and enter his room but that seemed like something the herald of Galactus would do, not Shalla-Bal. So she tapped the glass once more. Again no repsose. Again she wasn't surprised. She thought about giving up for now. Maybe go fly around the planet. Do some sightseeing. Try again later. But a glimmer of hope arrived. The little robot friend of his, H.E.R.B.I.E., it rolled into his room and it noticed a presence outside his room. Staring at her, she gave the robot a friendly wave, which in turn prompted the robot to poke Johnny in the leg while pointing at his sliding glass door where she stood. Posted by ℌ𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔩𝔡 on Sun Jan 18, 2026, 04:01 [Reply to this]

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