#Black River Bridge MS

[slifarianhawk]

Chapter 13: being myself?

{Normal P.O.V}

Once we arrived at the lodge, I had calmed down and had collected my thoughts. As much as I hated the thought of umbrellas money being used to create the Pheonix Corps as well as the lodge, at least it was now making a difference and helping humanity rather than creating weapons of mass destruction.  My thoughts on the Wesker situation were less than resolved though. I had to come over that bridge when I got to it. 

Archer helped us unload the car and placed the multiple attache cases and the few suitcases with clothes for Irving and Steve on a bell cart. When Irving stepped out he looked stunned. This didn't surprise me in the slightest. The grounds of the lodge were well maintained with multiple local specimens of berry bushes as well as shrubs, various flowers, and fruit trees. The natural beauty was being heightened by the moonlight and the forest sounds were making the place seem peaceful.

"This place is quite gorgeous Mr. Archer. I'm surprised a hunting lodge is this well kept." Ricardo said looking over the grounds. 

"Thank you, Mr. Irving,  maintenance and landscaping take a lot of pride in making sure Tabitha's gardens are well taken care of. She planted most of these herself as well as a vegetable patch past the orchard. She was always on who believed in garden-fresh quality is better tasting and more enjoyable for patrons." Archer spoke. 

"Wesker's wife did this? It's incredible, to think a guy who is so good at destroying life was married to someone capable of creating a natural beauty like this." Steve said helping Archer with the bell cart. 

I chuckle at the remark Steve made, "Yea, although if I remember her body count is around five hundred give or take, due to her being in the U.B.C.S. but she always had a soft spot for gardening. She told me on one of our missions to France the reason why is she got into gardening was that she didn't want to pay the forty dollars for a pound of lavender. "

"Really? Flowers were that expensive?" Irving asked holding the door open.

"Yes, it's a hit at the farmers market we host once the month we sell it at six dollars a pound and we turn a profit on the culinary lavender we grow here." Archer said smiling, "Our dessert bar is mostly comprised of Madam Tabitha recipes, her lavender macarons are often requested to be sold separately in a bakery type setting however we are unfortunately running on the lodges appeal to hunters as they are our main financial support. Unfortunately, our other activities support either the grounds or what happens three stories below leaving little financial gain for our employees. Thankfully we have roughly three thousand five hundred fifty acres of land with two hundred fifty set aside separate from the total just for our employees."

"They live on campus? The utilities must be a fortune with all the land allotments on the same stretch of land." Steve stated.

"That's one thing my teacher thought about. She had a hydroelectric dam built to supply energy due to the runoff of snow and nearby rivers. It supplies electricity to the lodge and employees but allows for a tax break as well." I started cringing remembering the cost to start everything.

Irving let the door staring in shock, "It sounds like Mrs. Wesker was one hell of a businesswoman.".

"Indeed she was Mr. Irving and with that, I welcome you and Mr. burnside to the Phoenix Core Lodge, Ms. Lancaster welcome home." Archer swung the door open and the deep wooden tones of the lobby shone ceremoniously in the light of the antique chandelier. 

The smell of pine and cedar wafted out of the door completing the ambiance. The dark leather sofas surrounding a black marble mantlepiece the white streaks faintly speckling in the light created a homely feeling. The check-in desk was made of nice mahogany and an ebony top piece. The path of the entry was tiled with a red marble that let up to the desk.

 "Wow, this place is gorgeous!" Steve exclaimed excitedly, "It does honestly have a slight Umbrella feel to it but safer if that makes sense?".

"Teach did say she did use some old designs Spencer had set aside for a mountainside retreat in Russia she found in the Arkley mansion. She just altered them for her gain... at least that's what I understand from  what she told me." I said pushing the bell carts through the massive wood doors. 

"She had a good eye for design. I would kill to have furnishings like this in our African location. Who is the lady in the painting?" Irving asked looking at the portrait that was made by Archer's brother. It depicted me sitting cross-legged wearing a black tank top and red jeans staring off to the side, my U.S.B.Cs tattoo on my shoulder on full display.

"That is Lady Tabitha before she was killed. My elder brother painted it as a favor for me after she passed. It's here to help honor her memory." Archer said walking out with a guest book, "I have you and in Mr. burnside in separate suites. Even though we are a hunting lodge, we act as a hotel would mostly mainly for room documentation." 

"Well, that's great in all but what about Alistar? She needs a place to sleep." Steve asked concerned.

"Hahaha, I appreciate the worry Steve but I have a permanent room here thanks to my teacher. I stayed here before tracking down Wesker. If you need me at all I will be in the room marked 748. Archer, please make sure they are well taken care of. I need a shower."  with that, I quickly unloaded my gear from the cart and marched to my room.

(time skip 2 A.M.)

 With a deep sigh, I stepped from the bathroom and stared in the mirror stroking a massive scar on my right shoulder. I paid one hundred and fifty bucks to get Surgeis mark on me removed however the guy botched it and the wound got infected and it scarred my shoulder badly. The picture always made me want to see if that awful tattoo was gone. It was a lovely picture but it reminded me of the past when I want to focus on the present.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

"Come in," I shouted and stood in front of my dresser in the corner of the room.  

"It seems our guests are enjoying themselves," Archer said walking in the to living space of the room, "Tell me, T, when will this be over?"

"I don't understand what you mean June? The most Mr. Burnside and I will be is a week and Mr. Irving a few days." I started avoiding the question.

"Cut the bullshit, Tabitha! You know I mean your game with Vladimir and Spencer. You could've stayed here and helped the people harmed by them and your damn husband. BUT NO YOU ARE NOW AIDING A TERRORIST POSSIBLY DISTORY THE WORLD! ALL BECAUSE YOU CAN'T LET GO OF WHAT UMBRELLA DID!!! WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO FINALLY BE THE PERSON I KNOW YOU AS WHO WANTS TO HELP THE WORLD!!!" Arjuna stopped shouting when he saw me starting to cry, "Not to doom it. When will I have my closest friend back? The one who saved me from  Umbrellas testing in India and to me of a place where those who hate Umbrella can fight. The one who puts the word Pheonix in the Pheonix core. We need a leader and the lady standing in front of me isn't her. "

"I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO BE! I'M A NOBODY! I am no one's leader Archer. I'm a hell of a captain and I could be a hell of a commander if needed. However, until I can look at my brother and sister in the eye and not see a monster in their eyes. I can't be considered a Pheonix, just an ember of a past I cant move on from. The Pheonix Corps deserves someone who embraces the motto, 'to embrace the past and strength from surviving adversity becoming a new person that will shine like a sun'.  I'm not that June, not yet, and at this rate, I'll never be." I glared into his eyes.

"You have a funny way of showing it, your eyes are even saying you are your self, not Alistar. Your contacts are gone and all I see is a shadow of the person you truly are, Tabitha" He said pointing into the mirror. 

I turned toward the mirror and saw that my contacts had dissolved again "They're gone, they were brand new not too long ago. ".

Archer came up from behind and hugged me. I went rigid and broke down. Tears just started flooding my eyes and I fell to my knees. It dawned on me I have to be more forceful in my plan or I'll never be able to accept what happened to me. I was running out of time I may have a few years but I had been infiltrated over six months and I haven't even gained his trust. I need to be more like myself. I never expected I would realize this thanks to the one person who hates who they were to.

"Arjuna...." I whispered. 

"Yes T?" he dropped to his knees.

I wrapped my arm around him, "You are right, I do need to be more like myself. If I can't accept the past how will Albert? I know you don't approve of this but thank you for being here for me."

"Sigh.... sometimes  I swear I'm the older one of the two of us." archer smiled shaking his head.

"Ha maybe... Archer after all this we will find your brother. The connections won't be able to hide if both me and Wesker are on the case. " he wrapped his arms around mine.

"Thank you but first thing first get dressed. As much I care for you I see you more as a mother and I don't want to see the tits." he coughed turning away.

"Oh right, sorry." I quickly threw on a white T-shirt, black basketball shorts, and pulled my hair back, "I'm dressed now June." 

"Good, ahem but down to business the guys who were causing a scene left into the forest shortly before you landed. They took their weapons and packed up their trucks. The leader said they are going to go past the boundaries." 

"Oh no.... this isn't good I heard a pack of Cerberus earlier tonight!" I shouted grabbing my I.D. badge. 

"You're going!?!" Archer looked shocked.

" Yes, I'm going to mobilize the Wolf Pack too.  It's time they get some action."  I walk over to my closet which had a hidden keypad and entered the code that brought up my elevator. "You were right this world needs me not my shell." The wall opened and stepping onto the platform,  I scanned the badge. 

"I'll man the desk up here T. Welcome back." He stood at attention.

"At ease, it's business as usual just keep your com on," I said as the doors closed and I put on my com necklace, "No one will die tonight. "

The elevator roared to life and started descending.  I had to make this a quick mission as the mission for Wesker starts after we eat lunch tomorrow but if these idiots die we would have a major problem. I don't need negative press or worse the B.S.A.A sticking their neck in something that could destroy the Pheonix Corps. reputation. 

"Welcome back Lady Tabitha."  a mechanical female voice echoed in the elevator.

"Glad to be back, White Queen," I stated as the doors opened revealing a massive underground lab, "I take it everything is running smoothly." 

"Yes mam, all operations are running at full capacity and your gear has been stored and sustained in your office." the AI spoke through my com. 

"Good, are Lupo and Beltway en route to my office?" I asked opening a sliver door with a black emblem with a blue snake on it. 

"Yes, the wolf pack is mobilizing. Lupo and her demolitions expert will be with you shortly,"  she said manifesting from a hologram projector in the ceiling. 

"Alright," I said getting in my U.S.B.C uniform and my compound bow from storage, "I want you to activate the sirens that are near the old umbrella lab in the woods using the alternate wail option. Play a message saying they are in a quarantined area and they need to return to the lodge immediately. That way we can at least get a warning out to them and try to locate them."

"Understood." She said and faded out.

I opened my med cache on my belt and took a light green tablet. I was going to help out Wolfpack. It had been to long since I had been on a mission and I was itching for action. This  is  where the monster comes out. Where I am myself.

[ecceterica]

House in space, green. courage the cowardly dog energy. Retrofurism. Feeling warmth in back right of throat, interlinks between deep childhood thought and current mood. Fields, moist, vivid, butterbread, betty sink blue plaid, silver tv. Barbie desktop game. Allision purple sparkles. Misty fields, dew, trampolines, pale yellow blankie, soft pale pink cursive lettering. Gameboy. Purple sparkle, hamtaro game, blisters. Gravel for cheerleading, shaky knees, lip gloss, butterfly blue, praying mantis, ceiling stars, chlorine,sunburnt cheeks. Perfume in a tiny coconut. Hot baths. The christmas village, the feeling of cotton snow, britney spears perfume. Wax hands. Eevee. Days at ellens drawing on ms paint. Summer time family reunions. The saltville gym floor. Feather boas. Abbys house roleplaying. White off the shoulder tops. Soffees and rainbows

Constellations in the blue room. Eris. Dinosaurs at pams shop. Snapdragon fights and stapler remover dragons. Cold air by the koi pond and the fog fountain at Aunt Barbs. The golden roof of the capitol building. Wsshingtonn dc botsntical garden, charging of the guard. Layer cake at rons house. Wet deck floors. Buttercups and dandelions. Ham hams. Plastic dinosaur kit from smithsonean. Mermaid. Chlorine. Fireflies. Tiki torches. The basement. Birthdays at ron and ellens garage. Band camp dew. Rocks. Rivers by tiny bridges. Fairies. Barbie swan lake. Rapunzel. Woodshop. Bridge builder in the computer room. Halea engineering game. Back scratches from ellen. Tinas house. Silver bouncy ball. Carpet. Aunt debs lake house. Major payne. Sammy. Gravel. Lucy. Aliens. Ufo saucer toy. Gatlinburg stones. The aquarium. Pigeon forge with ellen. Discovering marilyn monroe. Wizard of oz. Neopets. Webkinz. Abbys bedroom. Haleas room on college. Omegle. Space stories in english. Miss hatfields room. Jello covered grapes. Wiccan summers. White filigree crop tops. Amber Lusk. Tv static. The virgin suicides. Savannah Georgia. Andrea Brooks. Trialer. The exorcist. Jesus worship cards. The brown lady. Wolves in the window. Fossils from donny. Catching tadpoles. Claire's makeup box. The lassie dog. Dust. Octoball. Tennis ik tazewell. The lake. The diary. My heights on the doorway. The log benched by the ditch. Making potions. Ron and ellens intercom. Ellen at the nail salon. Suicune and blue sparkles. Misty Heard. The freezer. Trips to DC. Hot tea. Green sweter. Plaid vans. Sand in a bottle. Field days. Pokemon shadows on game cube. Tyler Malimasura. My first bike. Crayons in dads truck. Fishing at the dam. Grundy trailers. A basset by the river. Pokemon pearl. Bridge to terabithiam. Magic dragon book, barnes and noble. The blue girl game system where yoi were a teenage highshool student. The princess diaries. Blue jeans and flip flops. Stevens farm. Old farm buildings. Straight bangs. Headbands. Bilbao. Red lipstick. Pearls. Iqras basement. Getting henna. CoD with Destiny. Halo Reach and Skyrim. Carpet burn. Watcging the grinch in summer. Ron haunting the back patio. Burkes Garden. Underground church. The locker room. Bobby pins and donuts. The band bus. Wet rainsuits. Electric tape and a teal flag. Muddy feet. Justins football gsmes. The pool with wet feet and nachos. Sunburn. Praying to aphrodite. Church with betty. Meg and Robbie. The smell of a river. Nick Poe in the creek. Nate singing to me. The eclipse. Amanda Misak. Heartache. The scratch of a blade. Sneaking in cigarettes and throwing them out the bug. Twilight. Motocrosses. Floating in the sea. Black and white. Wolfman. Daybreakers. The ipod. The idog. Church with Ellen. Mints. Olive Garden chocolates. The cruise. Bobcats by the playground. Muddy feet and lookout towers. Puddles in the back alley. San Juan de Luz. The first time in basque mountains. Sleeping in the sun. Avril Lavignes best damn tour. Light tag at the highschool. Williamsburg sunburn. The carpet of mrs stacys room. Jail calls in the summer. Rehab in tazewell. Watching him find a beat again. Crystal growing and swarovski butterflies. Hot chocolate and deep fried oreos. Band comps.

[roscoebarnes3]

Stanley Nelson to talk about ’66 murder of Ben Chester White at Sept. 26 meeting of Natchez Historical Society

Stanley Nelson, author of “Devils Walking” and “Klan of Devils"

By Roscoe Barnes III

Natchez, MS, USA / ListenUpYall.com

Sep 11, 2023 | 2:53 p.m.

NATCHEZ, Miss. – The killing of Ben Chester White, one of the brutal murders that occurred in Natchez during the civil rights movement in the 1960s, will be discussed by Stanley Nelson at the Tuesday, Sept. 26, meeting of the Natchez Historical Society.

The meeting will begin with a social at 5:30 p.m. and Nelson’s presentation at 6 p.m., at the Historic Natchez Foundation at 108 S. Commerce St. The event is free to the public.

Nelson’s presentation is titled, “Murder on Pretty Creek: New Revelations on an Old Case.” It will focus on White, the 67-year-old Black man who was murdered in 1966 by the Ku Klux Klan. Nelson will talk about his alleged killers, two of whom, Ernest Avants and James Lloyd Jones, were charged but not convicted in 1967; and a third one, Claude Fuller, who was never brought to trial.

Nelson said Avants was convicted decades later in federal court and died in prison a short time after his conviction.

“The murder of Ben Chester White is one of the most haunting cases I have ever worked on,” said Nelson. “One Klansman confessed his involvement in the murder and identified the other two Klansmen involved. Yet a jury couldn’t reach a verdict in the confessor’s case because at least two Klansmen were on the jury.”

Nelson is the author of “Devils Walking: Klan Murders Along the Mississippi River in the 1960s (LSU Press, 2016) and “Klans of Devils: The Murder of a black Louisiana Deputy Sheriff” (LSU, 2021). He was the longtime editor of the Concordia Sentinel in Ferriday, La.

“Mr. Nelson has long held a justifiable reputation in Natchez as being as or more effective than the FBI in sleuthing out the terror-network here that was the Klan,” said Alan Wolf, a director of the society and its program chair. “Mr. Nelson promises to be true to form at this important coming presentation.”

The alleged killers reportedly drove to White’s house on June 10, 1966, and lured him away with the promise that they would pay him two dollars to help find a dog. White, according to Nelson, was gentle man, who was known to be kind and even timid when it came to challenging the authority of a white man. He was not active in politics or the civil rights movement.

Nelson reported the story as follows:

After White got into their car, they took him to the Pretty Creek bridge in Homochitto National Forest. The men got out of the car with Fuller grabbing an automatic carbine and Avants, a shotgun. Fuller said to White, “All right, Pop, get out.”

White said, “Oh, Lord, what have I done to deserve this?”

Fuller unloaded 17 rounds into White, and Avant finished him off with a shotgun blast to his head. They threw his body over the bridge and onto the bank of Pretty Creek.

Nelson said the killing was said to be a set-up for another murder: “There also were stories that this was a murder ordered by higher ups in the White Knights to draw Martin Luther King to Natchez in protest where Klansmen would assassinate him. But was this really true? We’ll be sharing never before reported information about this and on other aspects of the case at the NHS meeting.”

The society’s program featuring Nelson is funded in part by a grant from the Mississippi Humanities Council through funding by the National Endowment for the Humanities.

For more information on this NHS event, call 601-492-3000 or send email to info@natchezhistoricalsociety.org

[nbmsports]

Vermont Flooding Engulfs a Ski Town.

For nearly a year, Bex Prasse and Craig Kovalsky had labored to restore every inch of the run-down building where they envisioned their future business, on an up-and-coming Main Street in the small Vermont ski town of Ludlow.The couple were newcomers to the rural state, part of a pandemic-driven influx of younger transplants that has thrilled planners after decades of concern about an aging, stagnant population.“It’s a quaint, quintessential, amazing little New England town — it has that vibe — and it has great potential, too,” said Ms. Prasse, 33, a Virginia native who spent the last decade working as a scuba instructor and yacht captain in Fiji and the Caribbean.By early this month, their work was almost finished. Wall tiles and countertops gleamed. A new industrial kitchen stood ready. They ordered pots and pans, sketched out a menu of gourmet sandwiches made from ingredients grown on local farms, and prepared to carve a wooden sign to replace the paper one in the front window: “Coming Soon Blue Duck Deli.”The Black River, tumbling serenely over rocks just behind the building, had other plans.Last Sunday, as rain began to fall, Mr. Kovalsky, a chef who has cooked at restaurants in New York City, and most recently on superyachts cruising the globe, gazed at the calm water and felt little fear. He knew about Tropical Storm Irene, which had ravaged the state in 2011, but had always heard it called a “100-year storm.”“We thought we wouldn’t be here by the time it happened again,” Mr. Kovalsky, 37, said. “We thought by then we would be retired somewhere.Around 3 a.m. on Monday, flood warnings blared from their cellphones. Ms. Prasse and Mr. Kovalsky rushed to empty tools and equipment from the attached garage behind the house, but shortly after 5 a.m., they said, the river overflowed its banks and invaded the structure. Fast-moving floodwater sheared off one wall and filled the basement to the ceiling, destroying their brand-new electrical system and two industrial freezers, and knocking the entire garage sideways.When it was over, the couple stood stunned in the wreckage, then began to salvage what they could — a screwdriver here, a hammer there, amid the boards and branches and shattered chunks of pavement. They felt lucky in one sense. The renovated deli space, closer to the street, was not badly damaged, nor were their living quarters above it. But because the flooded garage, once a barn, was attached, it put the entire structure at risk.They were not alone. Their town of 2,100 people had suffered some of the worst flooding in the state amid more than seven inches of rain. It was part of a broad corridor of destruction that also included the capital, Montpelier, 80 miles to the north, and Barre, where the state’s first death from the storm was reported on Wednesday after a 63-year-old man drowned in his home.It was a painful setback for Vermont at the height of its summer tourist season. Tourism pumps $3 billion into its economy each year and employs at least 30,000 people, as 13 million visitors flock to take in the sweeping mountain views and covered bridges. While much of the state was untouched by the flooding — even in Ludlow, which is in south-central Vermont, some businesses were unscathed — national news coverage of disasters typically leads to a wave of cancellations.In Ludlow — first settled by farmers in 1783, later home to woolen mills powered by the river, and now best known as the home of Okemo Mountain Resort — momentum had been building. Since Vail Resorts bought the ski area in 2018, upgrading lifts and boosting marketing and year-round recreation, new businesses had sprung up to serve new visitors.The success of other young entrepreneurs, whose cocktail bars and freshly styled motels enlivened Main Street, had emboldened Ms. Prasse and Mr. Kovalsky, who had both snowboarded in Vermont as children and had roamed its back roads for months in search of the perfect place to put down roots.Demographic shifts since the pandemic have brought a new, if tenuous, stability: Ludlow, like other resort towns across Vermont and northern New England, became a haven for remote workers when offices shut down in early 2020. Since then, some of its so-called Covid refugees have moved there permanently, while others now stay for longer stretches in the ski houses and condos perched high above downtown on steep mountain roads.That phenomenon has helped to nudge the state’s population upward, to 645,000 in 2021 from 624,000 in 2019, according to census data. That small increase was nonetheless “gigantic for Vermont,” which has offered incentive grants of up to $10,000 to people willing to move there in recent years, said Joan Goldstein, the state’s commissioner of economic development.It has been enough to spark new confidence in Ludlow. Last year, after seeing more customers even during Vermont’s less scenic “mud season” (early spring) and “stick season” (late fall), Patty Greenwood and her husband decided they could safely give up the second jobs that had long helped them make ends meet while they ran a bookstore on Main Street.“Before Covid, this was a two-season town, summer and winter,” said Ms. Greenwood, whose store across the street from the river suffered minimal damage. “We thought, if there’s ever a time to go for it, this is it.”The state has also become a haven for another kind of newcomer — one likely paying close attention to the floods. People seeking a more stable, safer climate are among those moving in, according to recent research at the University of Vermont.Richard Watts, director of the university’s Center for Research on Vermont, doubts those transplants will be deterred by the record rainfall and what it wrought. “These are people who are studying flood maps and making very careful, conscious choices,” he said. “They can choose to live above the flood line.”On Wednesday, as clouds of dust swirled over sidewalks covered with sand and gravel on Ludlow’s Main Street, and basement pumps and power washers droned, Ms. Prasse and Mr. Kovalsky toiled in mud-caked boots to shore up their battered property. They tried not to dwell on countless unknowns: Would they have to tear down and reconstruct the 200-year-old back building? How much help would come from their bare-bones insurance policy or FEMA? How long would tourists stay away? And most important, how long now until they could open?The rear building by the river had already been “red-noticed,” or labeled uninhabitable, by inspectors, and the power might soon be cut off, forcing them to vacate their second-floor apartment. With a crew of friends and neighbors who had shown up to help as soon as the waters receded, they raised new support beams to hold up the sagging garage, anchoring the supports more than two feet in the ground, and hoping that the rains forecast through the weekend would not result in another flood. Around them, kindnesses multiplied. A neighbor offered them a place to stay. With the local grocery store shut down, several restaurants gave away free food. The liquor store — its hours described on a sign outside as “Open-ish” — handed out free water, and the American Legion post organized a pork chop dinner Friday night to benefit hard-hit residents.Because they had sunk all their savings into the deli, abandoning the project wasn’t an option, the couple said. But even if they could have cut their losses and moved on, the care the town had shown them since the flood had cemented their commitment to stay.“I’m kind of like, we don’t deserve all this; we’re new here,” said Mr. Kovalsky.Ms. Prasse said she hadn’t cried once about the damage. But her eyes filled with tears when she talked about her neighbors.“We haven’t even had a chance to make them a sandwich yet,” she said. Source link Read the full article

[folklore-barnes]

the originals | playlist

some songs are featured in the show, some are not

dark paradise - lana del rey

holy ('til you let me go) - rina sawayama

oh ms. believer - twenty one pilots

ophelia - the lumineers

cowboy like me - taylor swift

delicious things - wolf alice

river - bishop briggs

church - aly & aj

motion sickness - phoebe bridgers

meet me at our spot - the anxiety, willow, tyler coke

welcome to the black parade - my chemical romance

no one dies from love - tove lo

keeping your head up - birdy

the party & the after party - the weeknd

twistin' & groovin' - leon bridges

night crawling - miley cyrus, billy idol

street signs & brake lights - the delta riggs

i'm a slave 4 u - britney spears

unholy - sam smith & kim petra's

monster - lady gaga

wonder what she thinks of me - chloe x halle

fool for love - lord huron

nothing but gold - marc ferrari

saturday - twenty one pilots

the great war - taylor swift

[sigalrm]

Crown Prince Bridge by Pascal Volk

[spicy-dunkaroo]

Stuck by Your Side (Part 1)

♫Now Playing: “Stuck by Your Side (Part 1)” by Spicy Dunkaroo…♪

❀Word Count: 2.5k

❀Rating: PG 13, 18+, Minors Do Not Interact (please)

❀Genre: Mythology AU!, Kelpie! Tamaki Amajiki, a pinch of Angst, very Fluffy, Maybe Smut (Still not sure yet)

❀Summary: Due to your job, you’re forced to visit a beautiful city in Scotland in order to get some reconnaissance on the locals. While on this trip, you grab a drink with a coworker and return home where you begin to notice strange things happen.

❀Warning(s): Cursing, Mentions of Alcohol use (Characters are aged up), and Mentions of Depression

❀Author's Note: Hello everyone!! This will be my first collaboration with the BNHarem server (Of hopefully many more). I hope that if you enjoy this story that you also go ahead and check out the other talented artists/writers that participated in this server collab here. I am beyond grateful to be working with so many amazing writers and artists that have helped me and inspired me to start writing!! I would also like to ask that if there are any warnings I might have missed, please do let me know. The last thing I want to do is have anyone read my story and get triggered because I didn’t properly put the warnings here.

Without further adieu, I hope you enjoy :)

☟❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀☟

Birds singing, leaves crunching, and the wind singing in your ears was all you could hear as the tour guide went on with their one-sided conversation of tour around Inverness, Scotland. If it weren’t for your worrisome supervisor, you’d be in the cute little cottage that you rented for the next few weeks, probably playing on your switch or watching Tigtog videos for hours on end. But noooo, they mandated that everyone had to go on this hour-long tour of the city to “get a nice perspective of the city” or whatever the hell they were rambling on about.

Each person was assigned a partner for the tours so they didn’t have to worry about anyone getting abducted or ‘lost’. Knowing better, you visibly rolled your eyes as your partner looked around like a kid in a candy store. Apparently the woman was from the marketing department as well, her name seeming to leave your memory as you squinted in her direction.

“You forgot my name again, didn’t you?”

“Pfft- no- no way!”

“Yea? Then what is it?”

“Uh, erm...It- it starts with a H, I know that!!”

“It’s Hoshi, or if you’d like to continue with formalities, Ms. Tenmei.”

Hanging your head in shame you look away. Getting lost in your thoughts once more, Hoshi taps on your shoulder.

“Hey, no worries! I’m pretty bad with names myself. How’s camera duty going?”

Saying this, the woman grabs the camera from your grasp, turning it back on to see the pictures you had taken thus far. Whistling, Hoshi looks back at you, noticing the lack of enthusiasm that was painted across your face.

“I know this tour is the last thing either of us want to do, but the quicker you get all those pictures for the portfolio, the quicker we can get out of here and grab a drink. It’ll be my treat if you can get all of them before the end of the tour.”

Nodding your head, you grab the camera back from her, beginning to focus it on a nice view of the lake from the bridge the two of you were standing on. Before you can snap the shot, the tour-guide’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts as he begins to speak about a more interesting topic.

“It’s said that this lake has a kelpie spirit living within its waters. Although, that can be said about any lake that’s big enough to swim in.”

As most tourists begin to talk amongst themselves, you grip onto the expensive camera once more, hoping to find that perfect shot you had before the man’s shrilling voice had interrupted your train of thought.

“Mommy, what’s a kelpie?”

As the little boy spoke, you took the chance to snap the shot as a bird flew on the lake's surface, leaving a black blur on the perfect shot!

‘You’ve got to be kidding me!’

The tour guide you grew to despise butted into the pair’s conversation to answer the boys question.

“That’s a good question kiddo! It’s said that the origins of the Kelpie were originally told as warnings to women and children alike to be alert at all times when not around their loved ones. Despite this, you can ask any local in the area and most could tell you their story of encountering the supposed myth. I suppose we’ll never know till we see one for ourselves. Though, if you’re unlucky enough to encounter such a myth, there’s the chance that you won’t live to tell the tale...”

The boy trembled as he gripped his mother’s dress tighter in his clutch. Your partner begins to scoot closer to you as she whispers into your ear.

“Psst! Hey, what do you think about those ‘kelpie’ hm?”

“It sounds like some sort of folk-lore they tell all the tourists here.”

“Oh c’mon now, you’re no fun! I’d like to think they might not be as brutal as this guy says.”

Scoffing, you shake your partner’s hand from your shoulder as you look into the camera’s lens once more to take another picture.

‘I’m sure it’s all bullshit. There’s no such thing as a shape-shifting kel-‘

Thinking this, you suddenly feel your body begin to fall forward as the bridge railing suddenly let out from beneath you. Before you realize it, you open your eyes to see the water's surface only a mere foot or two from your own face, the camera hanging by your neck and grazing the lake, your body beginning to be pulled back to its upright position.

Turning around to thank whoever it was that just saved you from having to pay for the company camera, you look to see nobody behind you. Nobody seemed to even be around you as you see Hoshi following behind the group of tourists, leaving you in the dust. You begin to chase after the group as you shake off the entire encounter.

Shuffling your bag off of your shoulder you threw it into the nearby chair, slumping into the couch that was adjacent to the chair. You began to hum to yourself as you felt the effects of the beer contest you had with Hoshi who you now knew was your supervisor. Thinking to yourself you remember losing that contest the two of you set up.

‘It was nice of her to pay for us and to bring me back home even though I lost. I should thank her tomorrow and try to pay her back if I can.’

Suddenly feeling the effects of the liquid courage, you stood up a bit too quickly, reaching your hand out to the couch you were just laying on. Not sure what to do, you reached for your phone to scroll through Tigtog, that was until you began to hear something strange. From what you could tell, it sounded like a voice, though you weren’t sure if it was male or female. Curiosity began to take the lead as you stood upright once more. Looking around, you began to walk around the cottage, seeing if there was anything on that could be making that noise. Eventually you found yourself outside in what looked to be the backyard of your little cottage, swaying side to side as you tried to listen for the voice once more.

“Y/N? Are- are you there?”

Under normal circumstances, after hearing an unknown males voice you’d already be locking the backdoor behind you after racing to that door. Tonight, however, was not the case as you yelled back the best you could of a response.

“yYeaa! Wwwhooo- whoo arre yOU?”

After saying this, you suddenly began to burp, probably due to the alcohol. Despite everything you had experienced thus far, for some reason your fit of burps could not be funner to you at that very moment as the voice spoke once more.

“T-That’s not important r-right now. I just wanted to make sure you made it back home safe.”

The liquid courage that coursed through your veins decided that you wanted to find out more about this stranger and began to walk into the forest. You began to sway as you attempted to find them, calling out to them in hopes of convincing them to stay and hang out.

“OoooOh c’mON now!! Don’t be liiiike that! Wh-wherrrreeee are ya? Le-le-let’s hanggg ouT for a bit! I-I *hic* think there’s cards in the liv-livingg roooom~! We- we can play a gggame of poKER and- and see what’s in the fridge. Man, now I’m hungryyy!”

Despite your lack of sobriety at the moment, you began to hear a few leaves crunch nearby. It appeared that for some reason or another, what you lacked in logic you seemed to gain in your basic senses. This theory proved true as you sniffed the air, you noticed that there was a lake nearby.

‘Since when the hell did I know what a river smelled like?’

Before you can continue on with your train of thought, the stranger responds once more. They seemed a bit panicked as you heard a twig snap, followed by more leaves crunching beneath their feet you suspected.

“D-D-Don’t come any closer! Y-You should go back h-home, you’re not t-thinking rationally.”

Not wanting to take no for an answer, you continue to walk to the source of the sound, hearing what sounded like a cascading river growing louder. Looking through the trees, you noticed a few yards away the river you had just heard. You speak up once more as you begin to walk toward the river.

“I-I don’t want to be alone r-right now… It-it’s stupid I know, I just...I’d just like to talk, just for a little bit. Would that be okay?”

Your vision began to blur as you rushed to the river's edge. It didn’t matter now if the stranger responded or not, your world began to crash down around you as you looked at the reflection on the water's edge. Sitting on your knees, small whimpers escaped your lips out as you covered your face with your hands. Despite the literal lack of sight, your emotions consumed you as it felt that everything around you was losing the light that once shone in your hopeful eyes.

At this point, you couldn’t hear any signs of life as you gripped harder at your face, only the sound of your quiet cries for help being all that echoed through that hollow forest. Assuming the worst, you began to move your hands from your face, dropping them by your side once more as you looked at your reflection once again.

“Y-You said you wanted to talk? T-That’d be fine, just- just promise you won’t cry anymore?”

There's a beat of silence, it seemed that not even the wind could speak as your body froze. Sure, you could convince yourself that you were just hearing things, that you were just acting aloof because you were feeling lonely. If you could get yourself on the couch, you could wake up and even tell yourself that the whole experience was just a really surreal dream you had. What you couldn’t convince yourself was the half naked man that appeared to be standing a few feet behind you, his voice matching his lips as you watched them move.

‘Maybe- maybe I’m just seeing things? That-that has to be right, right?! But alcohol doesn’t cause hallucinations and I’m positive that none of my drinks were spiked. So- so...Who the hell is this!?!’

“Are- are you okay Y/N?”

Your body grew stiff as you heard your name roll off of his tongue. If you weren’t getting clearheaded before, you definitely were cold sober now. Those shy indigo eyes that seemed to stare back at your own off of the river's surface as they brought you back to your senses.

‘There is a strange, half-naked man, who somehow knows you by your name, staring at you- talking to you! He doesn’t seem very intimidating, but then again he is a stranger!! In the best case scenario, he could just be a nice guy who found someone in need. Worst case, he’s a psycho that found their next victim! I can’t keep my back turned like this, I have to do something and get the hell out of this!’

Taking a shallow breath in, you swiftly turn your entire body around, facing the stranger that now made your body shiver in fear as you looked up at him. Despite the appearance of the situation, the man seemed to be intimidated by you as he looked away.

‘He doesn’t really seem like he wants to hurt me. If anything, he’s scared of me? Maybe I can intimidate him to leave me alone? Though, I don’t think I could pull it off seeing as I’m still a bit drunk…’

“Y-Y/N?”

Looking back at the man, you notice he begins to reach his hand out toward you, slowly beginning to walk toward your crouched form. Worried for the worst, you scoot away as you respond.

“H-HEY!! D-Don’t come any c-closer! If-If you don’t I-I’ll- ACK!”

Speaking this, you only now notice that there didn’t seem to be any more ground beneath you as you felt your body begin to fall into the river.

“Y/N!”

Before you can process everything that’s happening, you close your eyes in anticipation for the cold water that was bound to drown you. The stranger grabs your wrist, holding your body up above the river, your body mere inches from being submerged in the cold water. Noticing the lack of impact, you flutter your eyes open as you look back at the man before you. Shocked, the man looks down at where he grabbed your wrists. Only now do you notice a purple hue that surrounded both your arms.

“What- what is this?!”

At a loss for words, the man can only look back between your face and where he held your wrist. Confused and scared, you rip your arm from his grip as you stand yourself back up. As you stare at the man, you look around, befuddled by whatever the hell had just happened.

While a part of you would love to ask what just happened, the more logical side of you knew that none of this was worth hanging around to find out. Dusting yourself off, the man speaks up once more as he looks away in what seemed to be guilt.

“Y-Y/N, I-I’m so so-sorry!! I-I didn’t mean to t-touch you- What have I done?!”

Not wanting to wait any longer, you began to shuffle around the man, holding your hands up in surrender as you attempted to empathize with the man. Although, you weren’t sure why he was so worried since he didn’t seem to do anything besides whatever that purple glow was moments before.

“Hey, hey! We don’t have to speak about any of this. I’ll go back and after that we won’t have to ever see each other ever again, okay?”

“Y/N, i-it’s not that simpl- h-Hey, WAIT!!”

Before he had a chance to explain, you sprinted back to your cute rental cottage that you were now wishing you never left. Looking back, you notice the man just stood there as you were almost home.

Suddenly, your body stopped moving. What was even stranger, your body seemed to freeze mid-sprint. Looking around, you noticed that somehow your head was able to move but your arms were stiff as you attempted to force your body to run once more. Just as you were about to give up, your legs moved once more, wobbling as they felt gravity work once more. Not taking any chances, you began to dash once more. Not a second later, your body rolled forward from some sort of large and heavy impact. After your body finished rolling forward, you noticed that you were sitting in the backyard of the cottage, the man sitting on his head as his body laid against the door.

“W-Who or-or What are you?”

The man sighs as he flutters his eyes open, rubbing his head as he looks up at you.

“M-My name’s T-Tamaki Amajiki, and- and I’m a kelpie…”

~End of Part 1~

[1ore]

can i get uhhhhhh 29 with sinuk and brun

would you like a thai tea with that ma'am

◆

Brun drums her knuckles on the counter while she waits for the barista to fill her order. It’s a bold display of spontaneity for her, even if she has mellowed out in recent years. But then, this little tea joint has technically been in her life longer than Sinuk has. She has every right to walk around like she owns the place.

Sinuk sidles up behind her. Brun stares straight ahead, boring holes into the menu with her eyes. Sinuk whistles a low note. She’s already ordered for both of them, which means that Brun is zoning out. In public.

She walks into Brun’s shoulder.

“Fuck!” Brun hisses. She startles badly. The force of impact is nothing, yet she nearly doubles over herself.

Sinuk raises a brow. “Don’t tell me you’re starting to forget me, too?”

Brun shoots her a scathing look. She opens her mouth to say something, but it never makes it out.

“Oh, it’s you!” Daichi, the barista, finally notices Sinuk. “Si—! Si… Uh.”

Daichi frowns. Something’s not right. They try again. “Si—i—i… Si…”

Getting caught in the barista’s crosshairs seems safer than Brun’s, right now, but it also seems like a great way to piss her off. She doesn’t know who to look at. “It’s—”

“Shh! No, don’t say it. It’s on the tip of my tongue.” Daichi just stands there, order in hand, furrowing their eyebrows and sibilating under their breath.

“Sinuk,” Brun deadpans.

“Sinuk. Sinuk.” Daichi repeats the name back to themself a few times. “You’re Ms. Nakamura’s, um…”

“Partner,” Sinuk says, playing up her Forlorner drawl.

“Yes, that’s right! You’re Ms. Vauntariaq!” Daichi smacks their forehead, eyes enormous. “I am so, so sorry. Usually the name sticks by now.”

“No problem. I’m used to it.” Sinuk sticks a hand in her hoodie pocket and flashes them an easygoing smile.

Daichi hands the order off to Brun—one cha yen and some iced molchi. Brun thanks them stiffly. Using the kind of supernatural precognition that only a veteran barista could have, Daichi seems to sense that it’s time to make themself scarce. They wish the two of them the best in their most chipper voice, and disappear into the kitchen.

Brun hands Sinuk her molchi. “Don’t joke about that. It’s not funny.”

“What, my accent?” Sinuk bonks her in the shoulder again, but it doesn’t placate her like she thought it would. Brun just fusses with her sleeve where she touched her, and looks away.

“People forgetting you.” Brun says, in a low voice.

Sinuk falls silent. She looks away, too.

◆

“Uh. When did you find her?”

Brun leans on her usual table at the café, a window booth overlooking the river. It’s midnight, and it’s very clear to her that she was never meant to see the shop at this hour of the night. Its cheerful maritime décor is cast in bleak greys after dark.

She squints into the darkness, at the inky black spot in the shape of her girlfriend. Sinuk is completely blacked out. The woman stands on top of the counter, gazing down at the baseboards through empty eyes. But for the steady rise and fall of her chest, she is completely unresponsive.

“Right around when I called you.” Daichi’s voice lowers from its usual chime. “I kinda freaked out and forgot you weren’t a justiciar anymore. Sorry about that.”

“You’re fine,” Brun says. “It’s better that you called me, anyway.”

“Really?”

“Just trust me. It’s complicated.” Brun mutters.

She glances at Sinuk again. She gets the strangest sense that she’s not supposed to see her black out in this kind of environment, either. Somehow, this is more upsetting to her sense of normalcy—however normal it really is—than seeing Sinuk walk a perfect circle around an arbitrary center point somewhere in the high Asthaom desert.

“Can I ask how you found her?” Brun pinches the bridge of her nose and shuts one eye, thinking. “I don’t know how to put this. It’s just, people don’t usually notice when this sort of thing happens.”

“Gosh, that’s a good question.” Daichi rubs their forehead. “Actually, I… Okay, this is going to sound weird.”

“My girlfriend went into a trance and broke into your shop, just so she could stand on your register and stare at the wall. I don’t think you can make this night any weirder than it already is.”

“… That may be true,” Daichi rubs their chin. “Just promise me you won’t leave us for a different boba place, okay? You’re one of the regulars I actually like.”

“Promise.”

“Okay, okay. So, I was really bothered that I couldn’t remember her name. Like, ‘What the heck, Daichi!’ First time that’s happened in years. And you’d think I’d remember someone like her! So I was, um. Practicing it while I was closing up shop. Her name.”

“Alright…”

“And it was like, all the sudden, I feel like there’s something behind me. Looking at me? So I turn around, and BAM. There she is. So I start screaming, and she’s just standing there, and I’m screaming my head off. And then I stop because she isn’t doing anything, won’t talk to me or respond to nothing. And… Yeah, I guess that’s right around when I got the idea to call you. Dunno why. Just seemed like the right thing to do.”

Brun’s breath catches in the back of her throat. She traces the inside seam of her sleeve, and it all clicks. Her barista, through sheer force of will, had somehow managed to make themself remember Sinuk’s name. Not only that, but they held onto it long enough to shrug off the shadowy amnesia that falls over the world when she blacks out. So upset was Daichi that they couldn’t remember a single name, they reached sideways into the memory of the world just to pull it out.

There’s gonna be a reckoning at the tip jar tomorrow. She owes Daichi that much.

The barista glances nervously at Sinuk’s silhouette, babbling to fill the silence. “I don’t know how I missed her. Like, what? I would have noticed if there was someone standing there while I was locking up! It’s not like she was trying to hide. She hasn’t moved an inch since then. I’m not sure if she’s even breathing.”

“She is.”

“Oh,” Daichi says, a little dazed. “Okay. That’s good. Good!”

“I’m gonna, um,” Brun indicates Sinuk with a quirk of her head. She’s never really had to explain this to someone else before. “Try some things.”

“Okay. Okay, yeah.” Daichi’s eyebrows knit together. “I’ll be… Right here, I guess.”

Brun leans off the table and lopes over to Sinuk. She climbs up on the counter, but hesitates. ‘Am I even allowed to…?’ Brun glances back at Daichi. They give her their most encouraging smile and a thumbs-up. ‘Well, that settles that.’

Brun looks up at Sinuk. She can barely make out her pupils, bleached white in the light of her eyes. Whatever is so fascinating to her about the baseboards, Brun can’t make it out in the dark.

“Hey,” Brun says, softly. She touches Sinuk’s arm.

No response.

“Sinuk…” She tries again, this time giving her a gentle squeeze.

No response.

Brun rubs little circles into the sleeve of Sinuk’s hoodie with her thumb, studying the fabric. This is weirder with an audience. A lot weirder. She feels like she has to expedite the process somehow, if not for Daichi’s sake, than for her own. Brun swallows down the impulse. Working on Sinuk time shouldn’t make her feel any shame—and really, it doesn’t.

She looks up at Sinuk and thinks. If the woman doesn’t recognize her on sight, it usually means she’s in for a night of trial and error… Or a waiting game. Daichi might have to stay for the graveyard shift. Normally she might laugh at the absurd hand they’ve been dealt tonight, but right now, she doesn’t find it very funny.

Brun reaches for Sinuk’s hand. The woman’s talons list at her sides, silhouetted by the moonlit countertop. Brun runs her fingers over Sinuk’s knuckles, but they feel—well—they don’t feel. Sinuk’s skin buzzes like white noise on Brun’s, nonfeeling tingling up her palm. She stops. She looks back up at Sinuk, and studies her for a while.

Maybe she’s going about this all wrong. This is the first time Sinuk has chosen such a mundane location to black out in, after all.

Brun stills. Something occurs to her.

She shifts her weight back and forth on her feet, considering her angle. With careful steps, she inches behind Sinuk, steadying herself with a hand on the woman’s hip. She gets her right leg behind her and not much more, but that’s all she needs.

Brun bumps her shoulder into Sinuk’s. She lets her head loll, resting her temple against Sinuk’s arm.

Sinuk’s pupils blot back into existence. Her weight comes down on her heels all at once, clacking firmly against the countertop as if gravity had just remembered that she exists. She wobbles there for a moment, before drifting backwards, teetering precariously over the countertop.

“Woah, woah,” Brun loops an arm around Sinuk’s waist.

The woman finds her footing before she falls. She laughs out of her daze, voice dry and scratchy.

“Hey,” Sinuk says. She thoughtlessly touches the back of Brun’s head, running her talons through her hair.

“Hey,” Brun mumbles into her jacket.

“…Hey, Brun?” Sinuk frowns. She looks around as if she’s truly seeing her surroundings for the first time. “Any reason why I’m standing on the counter at your favorite tea place? At uh… Midnight o’clock?”

Daichi clears their throat.

Sinuk blinks. “Oh, hey, Daichi.”

“Hi, Ms. Vauntariaq.” The barista says in an uncharacteristically frazzled voice.

Brun doesn’t say anything. She just bunts her girlfriend gently on the sternum, wrapping her arms around her and squeezing tightly.

[willymywonkers]

Pure Imagination

Summary: We get introduced into the world of Maude Figgle, and how one of her students, Charlie Bucket, reunites her with an old friend.

A/N: This too longer than I'd like to admit lmaoooo. This is my first time writing a willy wonka fic, so constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!!

The chocolate factory at the edge of town was always a mystery to people. Its large tunnels stood tall casing a shadow over people. All of Willy Wonka's delectable goods were protected behind hundreds of walls of steel and black bricks that were absolutely impenetrable.

Maude had seen the factory about a dozen times, and each time, she wondered what would it be like to go inside. She had always admired the elusive chocolatier from a far, but she was so nervous to actually talk with him.

Maude had remembered a time when Willy Wonka wasn't famous, and was just a boy that lived two blocks down from her. Of all people, Will was the nicest boy she'd ever met. When they were younger, Maude would enjoy spending her time with Will, encouraging him to take risks, and be a little impulsive. Will knew she was a bit wild, but that's what he liked about her. Someone who wasn't afraid of any consequences and just went with the heart told them.

However, things began to get rough for Maude. She wasn't the little girl that pushed the boundaries anymore. She was Will's partner, and she was the main It happened when Maude met her ex husband, Ronald. Ron was extremely jealous of Will. It was apparent that Will liked Maude more than anyone else. Will didn't like touching other workers. That was the main reason he wore gloves.

However, he acted differently around Maude. He seemed to be more comfortable with touching her, and letting her touch him. Ron caught sight of this. He deemed that Maude belonged to him.

Eventually, Ron made Maude cut all contact from Will. This happened when Willy was going through a sharp decrease in candy sales. With people all over the world after his secrets, Will didn't really have anybody he could trust. Other than Maude.

Maude didn't want to quit working with Will, but Ron didn't give her much of a choice. Ron had gotten more and more controlling towards her, thus affecting her mental health greatly.

Then, she snapped at Ron, telling him that this was wrong. Ron slapped her across the face. The next day, Maude resigned.

The news crushed Willy, causing him to close the factory for good.

Years later, Maude divorced Ron, taking her own independence back. Maude often would walk by the factory, but it was a painful reminder to her, and how she treated her best friend.

Maude became a chemistry teacher, so that she could be close with children, and help their young minds grow. Of course, there were students that would barely pay attention, and would ignore what she said altogether. However, there was one student in her class that she was very fond of. A young boy named Charlie Bucket.

He was quite clever for his age, and he would always be interested whatever experiments she was conducting.

"Good morning, Ms. Figgle," Charlie said, walking into the classroom.

Maude smiled at the boy. Her glasses hung from the bridge of her nose. "Good morning, Charlie. Did you enjoy winter break?"

He nodded. "But, I didn't get anything this year."

"Oh, I'm sorry, dear." Maude knew about Charlie's financial situation. She always tried to make things a little more lenient on him, unlike his other teachers.

"It's alright. Christmas is about spending time with your family, anyways."

Maude nodded. "Well, I've got a present for you, Charlie."

She got out a medium sized box wrapped in newspaper, and handed it to him.

"What is it?" He asked.

"You're just gonna have to open it to find out."

It was a brown sweater with a black stripe in the front.

Charlie smiled at the present, though he seemed taken aback by the gesture.

"I can't accept this." Charlie said, putting the sweater back in the box.

"But, it's frigid out there. You'll need it." Maude handed Charlie back the sweater.

He smiled up at Maude. "You're right. I really appreciate it, Ms. Figgle."

The kids all plied into the class at once. Excitement from being back from break made all the kids rambley and quite loud.

"Have you heard about the golden tickets?"

"I'm gonna get the first one."

All the kids seemed to be chattering all about these golden tickets. Maude hadn't a clue about what they were.

"Golden tickets?" Maude asked, looking slightly confused.

"There was an announcement about it last night. Mr. Wonka is going to be opening up his factory for 5 children all over the world." Charlie said, clearing up her confusion.

Maude's eyes lit up. "Really? That's incredible!"

Charlie agreed.

This fact made Maude's heart jump. She really wanted to see Will again, but she knew she barely had a chance. 5 golden tickets in the whole world, and there was only one of her. She tossed her excitement aside in hopes that a kid truly worthy of the ticket takes it.

A few weeks go by and the first ticket is found. Maude was sitting in front of her television when it was announced. She wasn't surprised that the first ticket was found by some kid who ate chocolate all the time, but it was how quickly he found it.

After that, each kid was worst than the last. It really pained her to see such rotten kids get all the spotlight, when kids like, Charlie, were barely making ends meet.

Maude found herself back at the factory, wondering what was going on inside.

"Hello, Ms. Figgle!" Charlie called from behind.

Maude turned around, snapping out of her thoughts. "Oh, hello, Charlie. What are you doing here?"

"Why are you always staring at the factory?" Charlie countered.

Maude gulped. "Well, you see, a long time ago, I actually knew Mr. Wonka."

"You did? I think my grandpa told me about it."

"Right, but I didn't just work for him. I was his partner in it all. I did all the experiments. I created new kinds of candy every day."

Maude and Charlie began walking down the snowy street, as Maude told Charlie the many adventures her and Mr. Wonka shared.

"Were you ever in love with Mr. Wonka?" Charlie asked, jokingly.

Maude chuckled. "Of course not."

Of course, she was lying to herself. She couldn't see herself standing beside him. Maude felt that Willy deserved someone better, especially when all she did was burn him.

Maude's smile faltered. She felt an ache in her heart.

"Ms. Figgle, are you alright?"

Maude turned her head towards Charlie. "Huh?"

"I was asking if you were alright."

"Oh yeah. I'm fine."

The two continued walking down the street, passing by a candy shop.

"Do you think I could ever win a golden ticket?" Charlie seemed a bit down. "I only get one wonka bar a year for my birthday, and my grandpa spend his last shilling."

"Let me tell you this, Charlie, you're a bright young man." Maude kneeled down to his level, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I believe in you. You are worthy of a golden ticket. All those other kids don't have the kindness you share with others. And, as someone who's personally worked for Wonka, I'd save the best for last."

Charlie's spirits picked up. He smiled brightly, thanking Maude before heading home.

The next day, rumors speculated that some kid in Russia had found the last ticket, but it was later proven to be false. This rose to more anticipation to who would be the last ticket holder.

While reading through the newspaper, Maude found out that Charlie had found the very last golden ticket. Maude smiled widely. One of her students found the last golden ticket. She couldn't be more proud of him.

She stood amongst the crowd outside. She couldn't stay for long, but she wanted just a glimpse of Wonka, however, there was too many people in her way.

A few weeks later, it seemed that more and more people were curious about the factory. Charlie had told her some of the things that happened during his trip. Things that were completely outlandish, and weird. A girl turning into a blueberry? And, a boy nearly drowning into a chocolate river?

"You know, Mr. Wonka wasn't as nice as I thought he was." Charlie said.

"What do you mean?" Maude asked.

"Well, he was nice at first. He was going to offer me his entire factory. On the condition that I wouldn't ever see my family again."

Maude sighed. "Right."

This was quite like Will. Family wasn't at the forefront of his mind. Trusting people was also a big issue with him, considering in the past most of his workers turned against him.

"Have you ever thought about seeing Mr. Wonka again?" Charlie asked.

Maude looked at Charlie, with a wishful smile on her face. "All the time."

Another few weeks ago by, and Maude hadn't seen much of Charlie. She began to worry about him.

One day, she heard a knock on her door.

"Hello?" She answered.

Charlie was standing at the door, smiling up at her. "Good morning, Ms. Figgle."

"It's quite early, Charlie." She chuckled. "What is it?"

"I wanted you to meet someone."

Maude opened the door to see a man in a top hat, smiling nervously at her.

"Will?" Maude said, as tears were pricking from her eyes. Her heart was jumping out of her chest.

"Hey Maude." Willy smiled.

She pulled him into a hug, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Will was taken aback by the hug, but awkwardly caved in. He could hear soft sobbing coming from her, but he didn't mind.

Charlie smiled at the two.

In this one moment, Maude truly felt the pure happiness and joy as she felt when she was a child.

[friendandphoe]

okay the formatting on this is gonna be a lil weird bUT!! have this figuring it out/something to last revamp that’s been sitting in my brain for the last few weeks @ahbonjour @museumlad @creativeskull95

There’s no way in hell she’s ever looking Professor Keelson in the eye again. “I’m sorry,” she croaks for the thousandth time, and finds a tissue being pressed into her hand.

“Quite alright, my dear,” Professor Keelson says soothingly, leaning back in his chair with his hands folded over his round belly. “Wipe your face, now, there you go. I’m — well.” And he rubs the bridge of his nose, just under his round wire glasses. “I can’t say I wasn’t expecting this, unfortunately.”

She nods numbly, ice trickling down her spine.

You ruined everything.

“I’m sorry,” she tries again, because it’s all she can think to say, but the professor waves her off with a weathered hand and pushes himself to his feet, leaning heavily on his cane as he makes his way to the mini fridge he keeps under the bookshelves.

“Now, now,” he says, almost scolding, and pulls out a clementine, a bar of chocolate, and a bottle of water. “Don’t you start that with me, Ms. Ochoa. This is not the first time I’ve had students crying in my office, I daresay it won’t be the last.” And he sits heavily back down in his chair, setting the snacks in front of her. “Eat, drink. Now, I won’t press on what’s been troubling you, but you know, these tired old eyes of mine do still catch a few things here and there, and I have seen you — well. I don’t like to use the word struggling, but you know, perhaps it is a bit more apt than anything else I could think of.” And she knows he’s looking at her, knows those beady black eyes well, but just focuses on unwrapping the chocolate bar as quietly as she can.

What makes you think we want you around?

“You’ve had a rough time of it, this year.”

It’s not a question, but she still finds herself nodding confirmation. “I don’t know what happened.” She says hoarsely, and reaches for the water bottle.

Leave us alone.

“I’ve been wanting this for years, I worked so hard to get into this program, I just—” and she has to press her mouth shut to keep the lump in her throat from escaping.

Leave us alone!

“Some… stuff. Uh, came up, I guess.”

They sit in silence for a minute, then softly: “The human mind is a wonderful, confusing little thing.” Professor Keelson says. She dares a glance up at him, finds him — thank god — staring out his office window. “It tends to block out anything unpleasant we might not want to hear, and often that negativity will build and build and build until, one day, the weight becomes too much to bear.” He sighs and scrubs a hand through his short white beard, messing the hairs out of their orderly style. “And then we must face the unfortunate truth that sometimes what we thought we wanted is, in actuality, not at all the path we should be taking."

She drops her gaze back down to her bouncing knee. “Is it stupid?” She blurts out, watching her leg blur under her rising tears. “I just — this is a good school, a good program, and I’ll have so many job opportunities when I graduate—”

A weathered hand stretches out across the desk, just reaching to where her pinky would've been. “And yet,” Professor Keelson murmurs. “It won’t make you happy.” He sits back in his chair, looking every inch the benevolent Santa Claus his students know him to be. “And given how miserable you’ve been this year, Ms. Ochoa, I daresay your ultimate happiness is worth far more than any graduating job offers.” His smile drops for a half-second. “Though I can’t say I won’t be sorry to see you go. You’re already one of my best students, you know.”

You're an embarrassment to my name and reputation.

A wet little giggle chokes out of her throat, and she wipes down her face one more time. “Don’t tempt me, I’m half-considering staying,” she admits. “Even with all of this.”

“Ah, but if you do, what sort of state will you be in once you graduate?” Professor Keelson says, raising a bushy brow. “All you young folk are the same. You’re young, you have that wonderful, limitless energy, but you must learn to take care of yourselves now, while you have the space to do so. Won’t do you any good to drive yourselves into the ground every night when you’re my age, you know!” He looks at her appraisingly, then smiles wide. “And you know, my dear, there’s great strength in being able to admit you were wrong. I’ve always admired people who are strong enough to chase their dreams instead of following the easy path. Do you have an idea where you’re going, yet?”

Don’t ever come back here, you little— 

“There’s a performing and visual arts conservatory,” she says hesitantly. “River Park, downstate. They’ve got really good photography and filmmaking programs, and, um.” She pauses, unsure how to explain how right it had all felt when she’d been reading about it online. “Well, I have an interview on Wednesday, so.”

Professor Keelson’s smile widens. “River Park! My partner studied illustration there, years ago when we were both young. You’ll do wonderfully.”

She can’t help but feel like his faith is ever-so-slightly misplaced —

I didn't want you.

— maybe it’s just the existential crisis talking, who knows —

Do you understand me?

— but she can’t quite bring herself to argue against the sparkling excitement in the professor’s eyes. She lets him press another chocolate bar and tissue combo into her hand as he shuffles her out of his office, with strict, cheerful instructions to come see him before she leaves for her interview.

You were a mistake.

Tuesday night comes in the blink of an eye; she’d barely dumped her meager wardrobe back into the suitcase she’d kept under her bed and her sticky notes are still haphazardly slapped to the wall above her desk. She’s not exactly sure where the time went — it’s not like she went to any classes. Or ate much. Or was sleeping, really. Granted she did try, but the third time in the same night she woke up sobbing because her blankets had twisted around her leg, trapping her in an all-too-familiar heat vortex—

window won't break it's too hot it hurts to breathe window won't break it's so fucking hot she can't think window won't break but it'll slide get out of this goddamn heat get out get out crunch fuck ow hurts hurts ow fuck hurts her toes shouldn't be ow fuck fuck fuck pointing that way hurts hurts fucking hurts can't feel her knee fuck fuck where's papá—

— she kind of gave up. She doesn't even bother pulling out her shitty, half-broken headphones to try and watch something on Netflix to try and pass the time, she just lays in bed and listens to Rebecca softly snoring five feet away. The ceiling is infinitely more interesting than anything else she could’ve been focusing on, anyway.

Except maybe her portfolio. Which. She hasn’t really. Looked at.

She’s so fucked.

Still, she drags herself out of bed nice and early at 7 am Wednesday morning, beating her alarm by the customary 4 minutes, and actually manages to gather the energy to sift through her remaining clothes to dig out something — well. She doesn’t really have anything “nice,” per say, but she does have an oversized sweater that’ll pass as a dress once she puts on some makeup and a belt and ties her hair up, and that’ll have to be good enough.

You show up to my door looking like that?

River Park is going to laugh her right out the door.

Everything she might need is already shoved unceremoniously into her backpack — wallet, keys, wrist brace, student ID, laptop, flash drive (in its place of honor in the tiny pocket), knee brace, fruit snacks, water bottle — but her eye catches on her DLSR just as she’s finished tying the laces on her most comfortable boot, and she hesitates. She hasn’t really looked at her portfolio much recently — she knows she’s got some old pictures from Manhattan, and maybe some from various campus events that might be good, but it’s been a little hard to go out and take nice shots when she’s been drowning in depression soup for the past four months. Four years. Whatever. Either way, she doesn’t have much to show for herself, and inspiration hasn’t really hit lately.

But River Park is — well, she has no idea, really, she hasn’t seen it in person yet, but the photos online are gorgeous, all glass-and-brick buildings framed by forests and gardens. Very much a college town, from what she can tell, the campus map isn’t really a map so much as a general directory pointing out which buildings were associated with the conservatory, but there was something that felt weirdly homey about seeing those pictures. Maybe it was the layout of the buildings, maybe it was the way they described their classes and professors, maybe it was just the simple fact that everyone in those pictures was genuinely smiling, but she’d gotten this weird, longing ache just below her collarbone that had made her close down all her other college-related tabs and email River Park’s photography and filmmaking department.

Something feels good about that campus. And maybe, if she gets there a little early, she can—

You don't get to come into my life and — and ruin everything I have here.

It’s only seven forty-two. Her interview’s not until one, and the train ride downstate should only take an hour. She’s got time.

Which is how she finds herself knocking on Professor Keelson’s office door, DLSR hanging around her neck, about two hours earlier than she’d been intending to be there, praying to who and whatever might be listening that he’s actually in and she didn’t just horribly fuck this up like she’s been fucking up, oh, who’s to say, just about everything she touches these past few months.

You’re not a part of this family. You never will be.

“Come in, come in!” She hears just beyond the door, and she cautiously peeks in to find the wizened old professor crouching over his printer, staring at it suspiciously as it slowly spits out some document. “Hello, dear. Wasn’t expecting you this early!”

I think you should leave.

“Sorry,” she manages, hovering in the doorway. “I just — change of plans.”

Professor Keelson nods, collects his papers, and creaks over to his desk. “Yes, very good.” he agrees, shuffling the papers into two piles. “Take a seat, I promise I won’t keep you very long. You look nice, by the way.”

She sits, already relaxing in the warm familiarity of Professor Keelson’s overstuffed office. Maybe this is why he’d wanted her to visit before she went, just to make sure she wouldn’t vomit on the interviewers. “Thank you, sir.”

“You’re very welcome. Now,” he says, stuffing one pile of papers into a folder. “These are all your important documents: transcripts, transferable credits, disability accommodations, et cetera. Pardon my overstepping, but you did seem a little, ah, frazzled, shall we say? Last you came to speak with me and I was almost positive that you wouldn’t have thought of pulling the paperwork together.”

Which is absolutely true, she hadn’t, and she can’t even bring herself to feel insulted that he’d assumed she wouldn’t. “Thank you very much,” she says, trying desperately to seem calm and cool and collected and not crush her very expensive, very precious camera in her white-knuckle grip.

A mess. You're a mess.

Professor Keelson’s face crinkles into a smile. “You’re very welcome. You’ll be happy to know that, since you’ve already completed all your core classes and general requirements, all of those credits will easily transfer between the schools. There may be a class or two you’ll have to make up, but you should be able to jump right in with your major-specific classes. Now, this,” he says, folding the other papers into an envelope. “Is your letter of recommendation. I’ll put it in the folder with everything else, but I wanted you to know that you had it.”

Oh, fuck, she might start crying again. “Professor—” she starts, but he’s already slid the folder across the desk to her.

“Ms. Ochoa, if I may.” Her mouth snaps shut, and he continues: “Our time together has been short, yes, but you have been one of my favorite students to ever come through these doors. Barring your obvious intelligence, passion, and work ethic, you’re also relentlessly kind, despite everything you’ve gone through.” His gaze fixes on her cheek for the briefest of moments, tracing over the lumps and bumps of her scars, but his eyes are as soft as they’ve ever been. “I don’t presume to know your history, but I know bits of your present, and the person I’ve seen would make a valuable asset to any school she goes to. If you approach your new classes and projects with as much determination as you did mine, I’ve no doubt your new instructors will be as proud of you as I am. I let them know as much.”

 ...

She numbly takes the folder, desperately blinking back tears. “Th-thank you, sir.” She manages, thick in the back of her throat. “I-I’ll do my best.”

Professor Keelson takes up his customary position, hands laced neatly over his belly. “You will.” He agrees, smiling. “Now, you should be heading out soon. I’d hate to make you miss your train, especially if you want to get there early.”

“Yes — yes.” And she gets up on autopilot, sliding the folder into her backpack as carefully as she can manage. “Thank you. Thank you so much, professor, I can’t — I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

She’s halfway out the door when she hears him call: “Ms. Ochoa, one more thing?”

She turns.

The professor smiles benevolently at her from his chair. “Don’t give up on yourself before you’ve even gotten started.”

And with that, she’s on her way.

Get out.

So, update: maybe deciding to take her portfolio pictures on her way to her college interview was a stupid idea, but to be fair, a lot of her stupid ideas have worked out pretty decently before, so. It’s fine.

Probably.

She definitely doesn’t almost miss the train by snapping shots of the mostly-empty station, but in her defense, the morning fog hadn't quite dissipated yet, and the spooky air of possibility that the tracks had been extending and disappearing into was just begging to be captured. And she absolutely doesn’t continually hop seats throughout the hour-long ride to get different angles of the seats, the blurry towns and roads whizzing past, or even a couple of self-portraits here and there. It’s not like there are people around for her to bother, anyway, so it’s fine. (Probably.) It’s a little hard getting a satisfyingly dramatic shot of her staring out the window, but she thinks the one where they’re passing through a tunnel and she’s locked eyes with her shadowy reflection might be a winner. She won’t really know until she opens them up on her computer, which will probably end up being just before the interview, with her luck, so. Who knows, she might just be wasting her time and battery life.

It’s the most fun she’s had in a while, though.

And. Fuck, maybe it makes no sense, but she's still got that feeling in her chest. It's creeping up to her ponytail, at this point, tugging on the ends of her curls, ordering her to pay attention.

Capture this.

It's important.

Last time she felt like that, she won an award, so. Y'know. Fuck her if she's going to ignore it.

She cuts herself off when there’s ten minutes left in the journey, just to be sure she’s not scrambling to put herself together as she’s pulling up to the station, but ten minutes, it turns out, is both much longer and much shorter than she thought it’d be. Just enough time to run down the list of all the possible ways this could (and would) go wrong, but not enough to steady her racing heart before the train’s slowing down.

You're delusional. This isn't one of your little fairy tales. This is — it's not going to happen.

Don’t give up on yourself before you’ve even gotten started, she remembers, taking one last breath to steel herself, and swings herself up onto her feet and out the doors.

The station is nice enough, but not terribly different from the one she’d started in besides being a little cleaner, so she shoulders her backpack and makes her way down the stairs and into the town proper.

Which.

Wow.

Maybe it’s just a seasonal thing, maybe not, but all the buildings she can see are draped with hanging lights, and even the curving street lights have extra strands hanging over the sidewalks. She almost wishes she’d scheduled her interview later in the day, just to be able to get a shot of those lights against the dark sky, but contents herself with snapping pictures of the incredibly aesthetic sidewalk and shops. She spots an art supply store with a cheerful blue door sandwiched between a movie theater and an apartment complex that frames up nicely, and there’s a coffee shop with swirling, festive winter-y designs painted on the window with pots of poinsettias framing the corners that’s a — no pun intended — picture-perfect paragon of coziness. She stops maybe a little too long to zoom in on the red leaves and flawless paint, making sure to keep the actual inside of the shop out of focus, because as cute as the beanbags and mismatched armchairs are, she doesn’t really feel like going in to ask if it’s alright for her to take pictures of the small handful of people both in front of and behind the counter.

One last shot of the poinsettias and she moves on, turning her lens to the last few, dying flowers in their garden beds, then to the display window of a bookstore that proudly announces its support of the LGBT community with various painted flags, then to the churning river that cuts through the town and the elegant bridge that arcs proudly above it.

There’s not a lot of people walking around right now, but she can definitely see kids around her age up the street, chatting and laughing amongst themselves as their breath puffs out in front of them. A cute dog bounces over to say hello before its owner tugs it away with a sheepish smile, and even without their leaves, the trees interspersed along the sidewalk stand tall, proud, and lovely.

She’s got that weird ache in her chest again — stronger this time — that indiscernible pull that draws her to stay, and she puts her camera down, puffing out a shaky breath.

What made you think we want you here?

“It doesn’t matter.” She tells herself sternly, leaning up on the sides of the bridge. “It doesn’t matter unless you get in.”

Speaking of. She pulls her phone out of her pocket, fully intending to double check the email she’d been sent with instructions on where to go, but her eye catches on the time.

Twelve forty-six.

So. Maybe not the best idea to go gallivanting around a campus she doesn’t know, especially when she has an extremely important interview to get to, but even as she’s scolding herself, she knows the pink flush in her cheeks isn’t just from the cold, and she’s got more energy now than she’s had in months, so.

Worth it.

Thank god E.A. Archer Hall is straightforward enough to find; Google Maps tells her it’s a seven minute walk in a mostly straight line from where she is on the bridge now, which she just about manages even though it’s cold and her stump is starting to ache. The building is emblazoned with the name right on the side, so it’s impossible to miss, but she needs a keycard to get in, and somehow she thinks her current school ID isn’t exactly going to fly here.

But someone, somewhere, is smiling on her, because she’s only just gotten to oh, shit before a tall woman with vitiligo and long box braids strides towards the door, pushing it open.

“Alejandra Ochoa?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she says as smoothly as she can behind her chattering teeth, and the woman smiles.

“You're right on time. Come on in, let's get started."

[gel0p]

Japan S2, Day 5!

(Editor’s note: Please note that this was originally written back in November 2019, right after the actual trip. Some details have been updated, but the overall content remains the same.)

——

For our next Kyoto destination, we visit Kiyomizu-dera Temple!

The back of the main gate. :)

This is the cleanest shot I could get; any cleaner and I would have to crop one of the statues on either side. >_>

From a different angle.

A nearby bell!

Three-story Pagoda :) Thank god they have lightning rods, because the weather turned sour a few minutes later.

Before that happened though, I went through the Zuigu Hall! Photography isn’t allowed, but I sneaked one photo of the inside anyway for you guys (▀̿Ĺ̯▀̿ ̿)

Get it? :))

Seriously, it’s pitch black inside. That’s just a 5-second rendition in MS Paint, but that is in fact everything you will (or won’t?) see once you’re down there. Keep holding on to the Buddhist beads (like the instructions say) and you’ll eventually get through.

After about 5 minutes of walking, you’ll see a faint light above the Zuigu Stone. Again, I didn’t photograph it, so please just google what it looks like :v

Finally back outside!

You can see Kyoto Tower from a distance!

Aaaaand it finally started raining.

Quite heavily, too.

Once the rain slowed down (it hadn’t stopped yet!), I braved it and pushed forward to the central (rear?) section of the temple. There’s an entrance fee, though.

Once inside, you’ll find these stairs going to the love stone!

The love stone!

The other love stone. You’re supposed to, uhhh…

Just read the instructions okay? :)) I didn’t try it. Not interested. XD

Zoomed in for your convenience :P

Moving forward, here’s the pagoda dedicated to safe childbirths. :) I was stuck in the rain. ;^;

When the rain finally stopped, I prcoeeded to Otowa waterfall! I only googled just now what it’s called. ^_^; You can drink the water from it! I did. :P

More kids trying to catch water to drink.

I’m including this random onee-san for the lulz. ^o^

And we’re done with Kiyomizu-dera! I made my way through Sannenzaka for my next destination.

I got hungry though (skipped breakfast - again!) so I ate some delicious shumai!

More pictures of Sannenzaka.

(Editor’s note: Man I’d love to photograph this again once ‘rona is over. ...But then there’d be more people again... ugh)

I think this is already Ninenzaka?

I passed by this flight of stairs. I didn’t climb them though.

I was losing interest in photography at this point because of the shitty weather (I had to hide my camera, you see). I’m not sure if this is still Sannenzaka or Nene no Michi. :(

“Life is living you right now.”

What...?

I brought my camera out again - because we’re almost at Maruyama Park!

(This is unfortunately not the same Maruyama in Aya’s name)

Aa, ii ne ii ne!

We’re back to photographing, babeh!

Maruyama Park!

A zoomed in version of the sign.

And this is to zoom... even further... beyond...

The bridge at the entrance of the park!

(Editor’s note: Photo blog entry)

Geisha? Tourist? I can’t remember D:

Failed attempt at artistry, LOL

Monument inside the park.

The entrance to Chion-in! I didn’t go inside anymore though.

And that was Higashiyama! I snapped this photo on my way to the train station.

Pokemon Center Kyoto! Hello Kawaramachi!

… I didn’t buy anything though. :))

The entrance to Nishiki Tenmangu Shrine, inside the Kawaramachi shopping district. Again, I didn’t go inside anymore.

ANIMATE KYOTO! MY PEOPLE!

At this point I just went around looking for otaku goods, and thus marks the end of my journey around Kyoto. :) I’m not yet done with my adventures in Japan though!

(Editor’s note: Technically there was one more Kyoto destination.. but it’s not a place people would normally associate with “Kyoto”)

This giant-ass crab was moving @_@

SEE? THE CLAWS HAVE CHANGED POSITION D:

I passed by a BIG BOSS Music shop, and knowing them, I knew they’d have one of these :))

The things I’d do for that Sayo guitar.

I’m back at the same river from the night before! Without wanting to pee this time. :P

I actually went back a bit to have some Gyuudon at Matsuya. That day I also learned how to use an ordering machine at most shops. ^_^  Itadakimasu!

Day 5 in Japan S2, complete! ^_^

<< Day 4 . . . Side Quest: Oregairu Kyoto Field Trip >>

Skip to Day 6 >>

[madpanda75]

“Pirate’s Plunder”

Nevada indulges the reader and decides to surprise her with a little pirate fantasy. This could be read as a stand-alone piece but it’s actually a sequel to my Nevada piece-  “Fifties Fantasy.”  Sorry it took me over a year to finally get to it and forgive my crappy rhyming. 😳

NSFW—Like super NSFW—There’s rough sex, nipple clamps, orgasm denial, spanking, bondage, and a little name calling (kinda got carried away with our dirty trash can) ❤️

Also I think I use this gif in every Nevada fic I have because HELLO, have you seen it?! The sinister smolder 🤤

Nevada’s unexpected surprise had thrown you for a loop—records management, projection data, fiscal year reports—that’s what you should have been focusing on, but instead your eyes kept wandering over to the black velvet box and that cryptic message in a bottle. Grabbing the bottle in question, you popped off the cork and pulled out the note, re-reading it for what must’ve been the hundredth time that afternoon.

Wear this when I plunder your booty -Captain Nevada

A shiver shot down your spine. You crossed your legs, already feeling your core begin to pulse with need, knowing your boyfriend never half-assed anything. Go big or go home was his life motto. Whatever he had planned up his sleeve, you knew to expect the unexpected.

Just when you were seriously contemplating leaving the office early to go home, your co-worker, Emma, approached your desk. “Hey, Y/N. A bunch of us were going over to Keybar after work. Wanna come with?”

“Thanks, but I have plans tonight with my boyfriend,” you replied.

“Ah yes, the elusive boyfriend.” Emma gave you a knowing smile. “Would this have anything to do with that mysterious package you got today?”

You blushed and pushed up the bridge of your dark-rimmed glasses. “Maybe.”

“Well, have fun tonight. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” She winked and walked away.

One agonizingly slow hour later, it was time to leave. You all but leapt from your chair, snatching up your coat and purse and sprinting to the elevator. “Have a good weekend!” you called out over your shoulder.

You exited the building only to discover yet another surprise, Nevada’s driver, Manny, waiting for you next to a black SUV Escalade. “Manny, what are you doing here?”

“Nevada called me. Said I should come pick you up.” He opened the door to the backseat and motioned for you to get inside.

A sigh blew past your lips. You may have been the girlfriend of Trujillo, but your independence was important to you and Nevada knew that. “Thanks, Manny. Pero I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself. Home’s just a few blocks away. I can walk.”

Manny chuckled and shook his head. “Nevada thought you’d say that. He told me to give you this.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope.

You knitted your brows in confusion and opened the envelope to find a note. The note looked similar to the one you had received that afternoon. The paper had burnt edges and looked to have been dyed with coffee or tea, giving it an aged weathered appearance. Upon reading the letter, that familiar tingle reappeared from earlier.

Ahoy there, Mami. A treasure hunt there be. A treasure to find that you’ll want to see. Stop being stubborn and get in the car with Manny. Otherwise, I’ll have to whip your hot fanny. He’ll take you to the next clue at the dock. And then you’ll be one step closer to my cock.

You shoved the letter back in the envelope and got in the backseat of the car, looking expectedly at Manny. “What are you waiting for? Vámonos ahora!”

“Por supuesto, we’re on our way.” Manny shut the door for you before getting in the driver’s seat, the tires screeching against the pavement as he pulled away.

*****

You stared out the window while Manny was driving, surprised that he was heading east towards Kip’s Bay. Nevada had several warehouses by the docks at North River Piers which was on the opposite side of Manhattan. You had assumed that’s where Manny was taking you. Instead he pulled into a place called The Water Club on the East River, an exclusive property where celebrities, politicians, and socialites would dock their yachts.

“We’re here,” Manny said, parking the car.

You looked around, completely stunned. “This is where I’m supposed to meet Nevada?”

“Not exactly.” Manny got out of the car and opened the back door for you. “That is where you’re supposed to meet Nevada.” He pointed to a large luxury yacht. The three storied, sleek yacht took up almost half the dock. The vessel was jet black with silver accents and decorative blue auxiliary lighting, giving it a glowing, sexy, and somewhat sinister appearance. If Nevada were to have a yacht, there was no question that this would be it. Several people dressed in evening gowns and tuxedos walked past and gaped, speculating as to who the owner was.

In awe of the behemoth of a ship, you practically stumbled out of the car and was greeted by an older man with a friendly face dressed in a white captain’s uniform. “Ms. Y/L/N?”

“Y-Y-Y-Yes,” you stammered.

He smiled and extended his hand. “I’m Captain Matthews. Mr. Ramirez is expecting you. Won’t you please follow me?” You shook his hand and followed him, ignoring the hushed comments and shocked faces of passersby.

“Have fun, Y/N,” Manny called out before getting back into the car and driving away.

You boarded the yacht and were greeted by another member of the staff. “Ms. Y/L/N, welcome aboard the Black Pearl.” You bit back a laugh. Of course the ship was called the Black Pearl. “I have a message for you from Mr. Ramirez,” she said and handed you a note rolled up and tied with a black ribbon.

Your hands were shaking as you undid the ribbon. Unscrolling the note, you saw it was another clue.

Welcome Aboard! Keep looking for clues, but don’t get stressed. You’ll find another when you get dressed.

“Perhaps, you’d like to freshen up,” the crew member said.

You looked up from the note, realizing you were still in your office attire. “Oh...ummm I didn’t bring anything with me.”

“Don’t worry. I think we have something in your size,” she reassured you with a wink. You smoothed down your modest pencil skirt and adjusted your glasses before following her down a long corridor.

Your pace slowed as you took in your surroundings—dark cherry wood with gold finishings, marble floors, luxe gold and blood red pillows adorning the furniture. Never in your life had you seen such opulence. The staff member stopped in her tracks and cleared her throat, waiting for you to catch up with her.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, quickening your steps.

She smiled and opened the door to a large dressing room with floor to ceiling mirrors and a vanity. You saw your suitcase along with your toiletry bag in the middle of the room. “I’ll let you change. I believe there’s an outfit for you in the closet.” She closed the doors behind her.

Once you were left alone, you went over to the closet and slid open the door to find a short, skimpy pirate costume dangling on a hanger. One thing that Nevada found beguiling about you were your fashion choices. During the day, you were demure, modest, almost prudish. Today for example, you had opted for a sweater set and pencil skirt with glasses and your hair swept up in a bun. But by night, you transformed into a sultry siren, choosing short, skin-tight dresses, high heels, and bold makeup.

When Nevada first met you at one of his clubs, you were wearing a short red mesh dress with panels to strategically cover your more private areas. “Have to leave a little to the imagination,” you said to Nevada with a flirty smile when he remarked on your dress. The next day he stopped by your office to invite you to lunch and nearly walked past you, doing a double take at your turtleneck and floor length skirt.  “I’m a woman with many facets. I can dress like a mousy librarian or be a wanton vixen if I want to be,” you explained. And just like that Nevada was hooked.

After changing, you looked yourself over in the mirror once more. Nevada had chosen an extremely short yet virginal white peasant dress with a sweetheart neckline, lace trim, and bustle. Complimenting the dress, was a black leather corset that pushed your breasts up practically to your chin, thigh-high black leather boots. You had also put on a tricorn pirate hat and the large diamond necklace that he had given you earlier. Swapping your glasses for contacts, you did a sexy smokey eye makeup and let your hair down in loose waves.

In the mirror’s reflection, you spied another rolled up note on the vanity. Unraveling the black ribbon, you unscrolled the paper and read the clue.

Fuck, you hot. Now hark me a fable. There once was a clue who hid by a table.

As if on cue, there was a sharp knock on the door. “Ms. Y/L/N. If you’re finished changing, I can take you over to the dining area,” said a voice from outside the dressing room.

Your pulse was racing as you followed the crew member to the dining room. Every step you took meant you were one step closer to Nevada. The crew member stopped at a doorway and motioned for you to step inside before abruptly leaving. You nervously entered the dark, empty room. One wall on the opposite side was made entirely of glass reflecting the city lights of the Manhattan skyline, casting shadows against your skin.

Nevada was nowhere in sight. That’s when your nostrils were filled with a familiar scent. That smoky, earthy, somewhat sweet scent of a cigar and suddenly you realized that you were not alone. You turned and saw a shadowy figure sitting in the far back corner of the room. There was a red glow from the burnt end of a cigar and smoke billowing around.

That shiver that had been following you all day, once again shot through your core. “Nevada?”

Nevada stood up and stepped out of the shadows, flicking on the lightswitch. “Ahoy there, Mami.”

Very few things in life rendered you speechless and Nevada’s appearance was definitely one of those things. He was dressed in brownish gray breeches, suede black leather boots with a large bell cuff, and a weathered white linen poet shirt, ripped open to reveal his chest, his gold cross glinting against a smattering of chest hair. Over top of the shirt was a faded aubergine waistcoat layered with a red sash and a leather belt around his waist. A wide red bandana was wrapped around his head along with a tricorn leather hat. He even had an earring and wore smudged black eyeliner.

A heat began to pool between your legs. “You look so—”

“Sexy, handsome, ridiculous,” he said with a smirk as he approached you.

“All of the above and then some, minus the ridiculous.” You shook your head in disbelief, Nevada made one hell of a pirate.

He held you at arm’s length, licking his lips as his eyes raked over your form. “Turn around for me. Slowly.”

You bit your lip and blushed, following his command. Nevada groaned and grabbed your hips, pulling you flush to his body. “Mami, you make me wanna shiver my timbers.”

You snorted a laugh and rested your forehead against his chest, your whole body shaking as you tried to contain your giggles, even Nevada began to laugh. “Oye, don’t joke. I’m getting into character and shit.” He lightly fingered the diamond necklace clasped around your neck. “You look so—“

“Alluring, titillating, smoking hot.” You looked up at him and batted your lashes.

“All of the above”—he leaned down and ghosted his lips over yours— “and then some.”

You hopped on the table and spread your legs, revealing that you weren’t wearing any panties. “Want a little appetizer before dinner?”

Just then a bird squawked. Peering over Nevada’s shoulder, you saw a large gold cage with a bright green parrot inside. Squawk “Fuck her brains out!” Squawk “Fuck her brains out!”

You arched a brow. “Looks like the parrot gets it. What do you say, matey?” You sucked on your index finger and trailed it down your body, rubbing soft circles on your clit.

His eyes darkened. In an instant, he reached out and pulled your hand away from your center. Kneeling down, he spread your legs even further apart and kissed a path up your inner thigh. You threw your head back and sighed, “Oh, Nevada.”

He hummed in approval, sucking a mark on your tender flesh as his mouth moved closer to where you needed him the most before he stopped his ministrations.  

“Wha-,” you breathed. “No. Why did you stop?”

“Dinner first,” he said, standing up.

You gripped his shirt and tugged him closer to you. “Don’t you want me,” you whined, kissing and nibbling every inch of his exposed skin your lips could reach.

He gripped your chin and tilted your head up to meet his gaze.  “Careful, Mami. You’re playing a dangerous game,” he growled before kissing you hard on the mouth, his tongue tangling with yours, drinking you in. All too soon he stopped with a teasing grin on his face. “Besides, you’ll need your strength for what I have planned.” He moved away to pull a chair out, motioning for you to sit.

You pouted but obliged him. He sat down next to you as a waiter came in with a rolling cart, setting a plate down in front of you and then Nevada. “Grouper. Why am I not surprised,” you softly said, looking down at the delicate fish simmering in a bouillabaisse.

“Why not? We’re on the water. Seems appropriate.” Nevada shrugged and sipped his whiskey, watching the waiter pour you a glass of wine. More focused on your breasts than the wine glass, he nearly poured the wine into your lap. “Eyes back in your head, cabrón or I’ll scoop them out with a spoon and turn them into earrings for her,” he barked at the man.

You cringed. “Coño, Papi. Do you have to be so graphic?” Taking the wine bottle from the shaking waiter, you softly smiled at him. “I think I can pour my own glass. Thank you.”

Nevada rolled his eyes as the waiter scurried away and raised his glass to you. “Cheers, matey.”

You giggled and clinked your glass with his. “Cheers.”

It was one of the most romantic and interesting dinners you ever had—soft lighting, a breathtaking view, and a drop dead sexy pirate as your date. While the food was delicious, you were more interested in what Nevada had in store for you afterwards than the actual meal. How many times do you get the chance to fuck a pirate?

“What’s the hurry, baby? We’ve got all night,” he teased, amused by how you were scarfing down your food. But underneath his cool demeanor, he was just as excited to get you in the bedroom. His cock had been hard from the moment he saw you in that skimpy pirate wench outfit.

“I’m done,” you announced, pushing your plate away.

“Paciencia, Mami. What about dessert?”

“You could have me as dessert.” Sitting up from the table, you walked over to Nevada and straddled him, gasping when you felt how hard he was under his breeches. “Looks like I’m not the only one who’s impatient,” you purred, grinding against his erection.

He groaned and rested his head back against the chair, giving into you for a moment before gripping your hips and halting your movements. “Not so fast. You still have one more clue.” Reaching into his waistcoat, he pulled out another rolled up slip of paper.

Still sitting in his lap, you hastily unscrolled the paper and read the clue:

Well done, Mami. You’re moving ahead. A secret is written where ye go to bed.

“By any chance do you know where the bedroom is?” You wrapped your arms around his neck and planted a searing hot kiss on his lips, running your hands underneath his shirt.

“How about I personally escort you there,” he mumbled between kisses. “Hold on tight.” He gripped the backs of your thighs and stood up from the table with you in his arms. You squealed in surprise and wrapped your legs around his waist, kissing down the slope of his neck, sucking a mark into his skin as he carried you to the bedroom.

*****

Nevada braced you up against the door, his mouth latched onto yours as he turned the knob and walked inside. “Welcome to my Captain’s quarters,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows. The bedroom—like the rest of the yacht —was massive and luxurious with a sitting area and a four poster king size bed. He sat you down on the bed’s red satin sheets next to a small treasure chest. “Go ahead and open it.”

Upon opening the chest, you pulled out nylon rope, diamond embellished nipple clamps, and a sleek black vibrator. You looked up at Nevada with lust-filled eyes, your arousal already peaked at the mere thought of what was to come.

He gave you a wicked grin. “Don’t forget the note.”

Peering inside again, you noticed a slip of paper nestled in the chest’s velvet lining. You took it out and giggled when you saw what it read:

Aargh, so you found it. I’m piratey-proud. As a toast to your courage, I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you’ll scream out loud.

“Piratey-proud,” you teased. “En serio?”

Nevada rolled his eyes. “Oye, you think it’s easy coming up with all these clues. Coño only so many words rhyme with cock. And just remember one thing.” He got up from the chair and reached for your arm, pulling you off the bed, your body pressed against his. Brushing your hair back from your shoulder, he leaned down to whisper in your ear. “You may have been on a treasure hunt, but you’re my captive. ¿Me entiendes?”

A shaky breath blew past your lips as you nodded your head. His grip on your arm tightened. “I need you to use your words,” he growled, his nose skimming the delicate slope of your neck, breathing in the scent of your perfume.

“Y-Y-Y-Yes, Nevada,” you stammered.

“That’s Captain Nevada to you. And as captain, I think I need to plunder your booty.” He dropped a kiss on the sensitive spot below your ear. “Now strip for me.” Releasing you from his grasp, he sat back down and looked up at you expectantly. “¡Ahora!”

“As you wish, Captain Nevada.” You would have said ‘aye aye, sir,’ but you didn’t think you could manage saying that with a straight face.

You took off your hat then slowly undid the leather corset, letting it drop to the floor. Just as you were about to slide off the short peasant dress, Nevada stopped you. “Turn around.” You blushed and turned your backside to him, sliding the dress off your frame. Goosebumps erupted over your exposed skin. He hummed in approval as he drank you in from head to toe. “Leave the boots on.”

Feeling bold, you widened your stance and bent over, running your hands up the backs of your thighs, spreading yourself for Nevada. You looked back at him and winked. “Like what you see, Captain Nevada. You’re not gonna make me walk the plank now, are you?”

With a crook of his finger, he beckoned you over to him. Swaying your hips, you walked over to where he was sitting. He took your arm and positioned you over his lap with your ass raised in the air, his growing erection pressed against your lower stomach.

“Remember our safe word,” he said, grabbing fistfuls of your flesh.

“Yes. Flan.”

“Good girl.” Nevada smiled. Flan was one of the first dishes you cooked for him and his favorite dessert. Although now he would say you were his favorite dessert. When deciding on a safe word, you thought it was sentimental and also very tongue in cheek.

You pouted and looked over your shoulder, giving him big doe eyes. “How many?”

“How many do you want?”

“Ten,” you blurted out.

“Ok, ten it is. Brace yourself, Mami,” he warned. “Count them out for me and you better not miss or I’ll have to start all over again.”

The first smack delivered on your right cheek caused you to gasp in surprise. “One,” you squeaked out. He mirrored his actions, smacking your left cheek. “Two.” You waited in agony for the third smack. The fourth smack was quicker and the fifth was delivered over both cheeks. Over and over again, he continued to spank you, your body rocking forward with his movements. Each smack harder than the next. You whimpered as he spanked you in the same spot he had previously. “Eight.”  

By this point, you were soaking, embarrassed by how turned on you were. “Two more,” he said, smacking your ass so hard you nearly fell off his lap.

“Nine,” you moaned.

His hand trailed down to between your legs. “Such a little slut. Look how wet you are.” He delivered one final smack right on your clit.

“Ten!” you sobbed.

“Good girl,” Nevada praised you and massaged your now reddened globes, admiring his handiwork. His one hand moved to stroke your hair before tugging on the soft tendrils, lifting your head up. “Now get on the bed,” he coldly commanded.

You slowly stood up, your ass stinging and sore from the spanking you had just received and made your way over to the bed. As soon as you had laid down, Nevada stood up and grabbed the rope. Pulling a switchblade out of his pocket, he cut four strands of equal length. He then took hold of your wrist and bound it with the rope before tying it to the bedpost. You watched as he did this to your other wrist and then your ankles, until you were tethered to all four posts, spread eagle and exposed.

Slowly he circled the bed, a smug smirk firmly planted on his face. “X marks the spot.”

You mewled and tried to wiggle in your restraints, aching to be touched, to be fucked, for anything. Your entire body shivered in anticipation. “Captain Nevada, please,” you whined.

“Captain Nevada, please,” he mocked you in a high-pitched voice. Kneeling on the bed, he brought his face to yours, giving you a wild, hungry kiss—nibbling on your lips, sucking on your tongue then pulling away all too soon. His green eyes were practically black, consumed by lust. “You want my cock. You have to beg for it and anyways, I’m not ready to give it to you yet.” He stood up and took off his hat followed by his red bandanna. “First, we’re gonna have a little fun.”

You whimpered as he took the bandanna in his hands and placed it across your eyes, blindfolding you. Your breathing quickened as darkness enveloped you, all of your other senses becoming heightened.

Nevada straddled your stomach and lowered his mouth to your chest, sucking on your nipple, raking his teeth over the hardened bud. You threw your head back and wailed as he did this to both your breasts before taking one of the nipple clamps and clamping it on to your stiff peak, adjusting the clamp with a thumbscrew. You cried out, feeling the sensitive skin being tightened and pinched, walking that tightrope between pleasure and pain.

“That feel good, baby,” he purred, putting on the other nipple clamp.

“So good,” you managed to choke out.

You felt Nevada move as he reached over to the nightstand followed by a buzzing noise. With the vibrator in his hands, he pressed the tip against one of your clamped nipples causing you to nearly scream as he circled your areola. He then dragged the vibrator over to your other breast, repeating his actions. You were a panting mess, lost in the throes of ecstasy when he turned off the toy and moved between your legs.

Spreading your glistening lower lips, he traced your entrance with his finger. “You don’t come until I tell you to or you’ll be in even more trouble than you are now.”

You nodded your head vigorously. “I promise, Captain Nevada. I won’t come until you tell me I can.”

“That’s my good little pirate slut,” he replied and slowly plunged his finger into your sheath, massaging your inner walls. “Fuck, you have the hottest pussy.” Pulling his finger out up to the first knuckle, he thrusted into you once more, slowly rubbing circles on your clit with his calloused thumb. He added another digit, making a v-shape with his fingers as he stretched you. A low primal moan escaped your lips. You tried to buck against him, but being tied up left you completely at his mercy.

A tension began to build in the pit of your stomach. “C-C-C-Captain,” you whimpered. “I’m close.”

He immediately stopped. “Good girl.”

“How many more times?” you breathed

Nevada cruelly laughed. “We’ll stop when I say we stop. Now, let’s try the vibrator, shall we?” With a single click, he turned the toy back on, dragging it up and down your labia before pressing it inside your core. You lost track of how many times Nevada edged you. He would fuck you with the vibrator until your legs would shake then stop and use his fingers, adding another digit every time he felt your walls flutter against him. Every now and then, he would pause and twist the thumbscrews of your nipple clamps, sending a jolt straight to your core.

He watched as you moaned and writhed in pleasure. When he first started to edge you, you would growl every time he stopped. As time passed, your growls became whimpers, pleading for him to let you come. At which he would only mock you and turn the toy onto the highest setting or swipe your clit faster.

Your inner thighs and the sheet beneath you were completely soaked. Your lower lips and clit were red and swollen, having been teetering on the edge for who knows how long. A sheen of sweat had broken out over your flushed skin. “Nevada, please,” you cried, completely forgoing the captain by this point.

“One more time, Mami.” He kissed your inner thigh. “Let’s try four fingers this time.” He filled your pussy with four of his long, thick fingers, thrusting them in and out. The sounds of your wetness and cries filled the room. With his other hand, he switched the vibrator back on and pressed it against your clit while crooking his fingers in a come-hither motion, massaging your g-spot.

“STOP! I’M GONNA COME!” you screamed.

Nevada immediately stopped and turned the toy off, moving out from between your legs to lay down next to you. “I’m gonna pull the blindfold off. Ok?” he said with a flicker of warmth to his tone, untying the bandanna from around your head.

You blinked a few times, your eyes readjusting to the light, your makeup completely smudged.

“Awww pobrecita,” Nevada cooed, running a single digit up your body, stopping to tighten the clamps one final time. You gasped, your whole body shuddering. “Que quieres, mi amor. Dime.”

A sob escaped your lips. “Please, Captain Nevada. I wanna come. Please fuck me and let me come on that big fat cock, Papi. Dame tu pinga. ¡Te necesito!”

“Tsk, Tsk, Tsk.” Nevada clucked and shook his head disapprovingly. “Such a slut for my cock, huh?”

“Yes! I’m your little cock slut. PLEEEEAASSE,” you begged as a single tear ran down your face.

Nevada caught the tear on his tongue as he kissed your cheek before making a show of licking all four of his fingers, dripping with your juices. “Mmm, every part of you tastes so sweet.” He sat up and unbuttoned his breeches, moving to straddle your chest as he freed his rock hard erection. “Go ahead, baby. Get it nice and wet.”

His cock brushed up against your face. A single drop of precum oozing from the slit. You lifted your head up and swirled your tongue around the tip, moaning as his musky, salty taste flooded your mouth. Nevada bucked his hips forward, encouraging you to take more of him into your mouth. You eagerly bobbed your head, tracing every vein, flicking your tongue against the prominent  ‘v’ on the underside of his hot and heavy member.

He groaned loudly, almost coming at the sight of you tied up with his cock disappearing past your lips, mascara running down your face and drool dribbling down your chin as you swallowed him down again and again.

“You love sucking me off, don’t you?” he purred.

You whined in response and sucked him harder, gagging as his crown constricted around the back of your throat. He leaned forward and clutched the headboard, feeling his own orgasm quickly approaching. “Enough,” he said in a strained voice and pulled himself out of your mouth.

Grabbing the switchblade he used earlier, he cut the ropes around your ankles and positioned himself between your thighs, hoisting your legs over his shoulders. “You’ve done so well tonight that I’m gonna give you a reward,” he said, running his length against your slit, brushing up against your swollen, angry-red, throbbing clit. “You can come as soon as I start fucking this sweet pussy of yours”— he smacked the head of his cock against your knot of nerves, making you mewl in response— “And when you do come. You better come hard for me. I want everyone on this ship to know who makes you feel this good. Cream on this cock for me.”

“Yes, Captain Nevada. I’m gonna come so hard for you. I promise,” you cried.

With a devilish smirk, he guided himself into your entrance, penetrating your core. All the breath had been knocked out of your lungs as soon as he bottomed out. He pumped himself into your sheath. One. Two. Three times and you were undone.

Nevada always seemed to find a way to outdo himself with his bedroom tricks. You had come hard before, but nothing like this—your muscles seized; body contorted off the bed; tears streaming down your face as you screamed his name in ecstasy. Your orgasm was never-ending. You kept coming and coming. You didn’t just see fireworks, the whole damn world exploded before your eyes.

He continued to thrust into you harder and harder, prolonging your pleasure. Feeling your slick walls grip him was quickly sending him over the edge. “Oh God, Y/N! Fuck! I’m gonna come,” he groaned loudly, snapping his hips forward. The sound of wet skin slapping skin reverberated around the room. His stomach muscles clenched as he roared his release, his seed splashing against your cervix. He grunted and moaned like an animal, filling you with his cum, his movements stuttered before sinking into your sheath one final time.

With his cock stilled nestled deep inside you, he slowly removed the nipple clamps. The rush of blood coursing back to your over-sensitive buds caused another orgasm to ripple through you. Nevada shuddered and growled, your pussy milking him one final time.

Grabbing the knife once more, he cut the ropes at your wrists and slowly pulled out of you. You were about to sit up when he stopped you. “Wait,” he commanded, sitting back on his haunches with one hand on each of your thighs, keeping your legs spread wide. “I want one more from you. Rub your clit for me.”

Trailing your hand down to the apex of your thighs, you began to rub circles on your clit. Nevada’s eyes were transfixed. “That’s it. I want you to come with my cum inside you,” he purred. Your breath came in short pants as you furiously worked your fingers. A string of curses tumbled from your lips. You didn’t think you could come again, but your body betrayed you and soon you were swiping across your quivering pink pearl harder and faster.

Your eyes slipped closed as your moans became louder and more high-pitched. Nevada slapped the inside of your thigh. “Oye! Look at me! I wanna see that pretty little face come for me!”

You gasped, struggling to focus on Nevada as your orgasm hit you like a freight train. “Oh Nevada! I’m coming! I’m coming!” you sobbed, your fluttering muscles causing his cum to seep out of your wet, pulsing pussy.

“That’s it, baby. Drip for me,” he growled and adjusted himself, already feeling his cock stir back to life, watching you pleasure yourself for him.

You slowed your motions, coming down from your release. Your body melted into the mattress, so exhausted, you could barely move. Nevada hovered over you, kissing you deeply before helping you to sit up, untying your wrists and ankles.

“Do you need anything, mi amor?” he asked while unzipping your boots and gently massaging your calf muscles.

“Some water and your leather jacket,” you softly replied.

“Sure. I’ll be right back.” He kissed your forehead and went to a large armoire, pulling his jacket out and going over to the mini bar for a bottle of water. “Here you go, Mami.” He draped his leather jacket over your shoulders and handed you the water. “I’m gonna go run a bath, ok?”

You nodded and took a sip of your water. Sliding your arms through the sleeves, you wrapped yourself up in his leather jacket, snuggling against it. The jacket was comforting—soft and worn and smelled like Nevada, spicy yet sweet. After a rough sex session, he was always attentive to your needs, knowing that the emotions and physical exertion could be a lot to handle. You would often ask for a moment to yourself, just to process what had happened.

Once the bath was drawn, Nevada came back into the bedroom and carried you bridal-style into the bathroom. You slid the jacket off and stepped into the warm bubbly water, your muscles sighing in relief.

Stripping off his clothes, Nevada stepped into the tub with you. Without saying a word, you began to wash each other.  Both of you wiped the smeared makeup off each other’s faces. He gently massaged your scalp while shampooing your hair. You lathered his body, feeling his hard muscles relax beneath your palms. When you were finished, you laid in the tub together, your back flush against his chest, his arms wrapped around you with nothing but bubbles as a barrier between you; the steam still rising from the hot water.

You looked up and smiled at him. “Thank you for today. It was really wonderful.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, dropping a soft kiss on your shoulder. He held you close for a moment before speaking again. “You know, all this talk about going on a treasure hunt and shit. I just want you to know that you’re my treasure.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. “Wow, first the corny clues and now this.”

“Hey!” Nevada feigned offense and grabbed some bubbles with his hand, playfully dabbing you on the nose with the suds. “I’m trying to be romantic. I’m having a moment here.” Grabbing a washcloth, he wiped the bubbles off your face, his expression serious. “Pero, I mean it. Tu eres mi oro, mi corazón, mi tesoro, mi vida. Te amo, Mami.”

Your eyes became shiny with tears at Nevada’s declaration. “Te amo tambien, Papi.” He cupped your cheek, kissing you like he had never done before. The kiss was tender yet passionate all at once. You could feel the love he had for you with every fiber of your being. It made your heart soar. You pulled away a fraction and stared into his mesmerizing green eyes. “Nevada?”

“Si, mi amor.”

“Can we keep the parrot?”

He laughed and kissed over every inch of your face he could reach. “You can have whatever you want, baby.” He sighed in contentment and rested his forehead against your temple. “Whatever you want,” he softly repeated.

That was Nevada for you. He could be abrasive and harsh but there was another side to him. A side only you saw—gentle and loving. He was yours and you were his and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

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[kashimos-hajime]

walk me home | q.b.

Summary: Being the lovechild of Tony Stark and May Parker has its perks. For one, you have Spider-Man as your favorite little cousin who you’re chaperoning for on his field trip. For another, you have Tony Stark as a dad. Or... had. You’re losing a lot of things in the wake of the battle, and with Quentin Beck back in your life, you’re facing a lot of shit, too.

WARNINGS: FFH spoilers kinda, swearing, a bit angsty, Quentin and reader are both MESSES with a lot of feelings (that are real) but its a happy ending :) Pairing: Quentin x fem!Stark-Parker!Reader Word Count: 6.0k

A/N: This is for the writing challenge hosted by @waiting4inspiration! My prompt was “I’ll walk you home.” GIF not mine!! 

“Quentin Beck, huh,” you snort, unimpressed. Your arms crossed over your chest, you watch as the man goes on, playing his little game. Multiverse bullshit. But the Elementals, that’s the thing you’re afraid of, and even if Quentin Beck can make up lies like they’re wishes to his fairy godmother, you need to know if this threat is containable or not. It’s really the only reason why you haven’t kicked his ass yet. “You expect me to care about Quentin Beck?”

“Know him?” Hill taps away on whatever she’s working on, and you lean against the pillar. You arch an eyebrow when he sends you a meaningful look before looking away, disinterested.

“Exponentially, apparently.” Letting out a disgusted sigh, you stand up straight and squint at the orange holograms. “Look, I really wanted to actually chaperone my cousin’s field trip like we’re still an actual family, and if you could tell Fury to fuck off—”

“No.” Hill sends you a dead-eyed glance before resuming her work, the orange glow of the screen casting her face in a warm light. “Once these Elementals are done with, you never have to deal with him again.”

“Keep my family out of it.”

“Parker is the only Avenger we have on call.” Hill’s words cause whatever retort, whatever witty comeback you had building up in your throat die. It crumbles to ash in your mouth and for a moment, she stops typing to let out a sharp breath. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re right. It’s not like I’m standing right here or the fact that Pete never wanted to be an Avenger, right?”

“Well, your dad—”

“My dad made him one in a time of crisis. Excuse me if I think he’s still just a kid.” Your hand fits against your forehead as you close your eyes, trying to figure out how field trips always turn to shit in your family. First Washington, then the one from MOMA, now this— “Look, pull him out. Convince Fury to pull him out. I’m right here.”

“Stark made a protocol for you,” a new voice interrupts and you turn to see Nick Fury standing there with Quentin and Peter. You roll your eyes with a lofty sigh and pull your shoulders back, unimpressed.

“Newsflash, I’m twenty-nine. Dad made that protocol for me when I was, like, eight, so I’m very much a possible alternative for a sixteen year old.” Meeting Peter’s eyes, you press your lips together. “And Dad only did that to keep me safe. He wanted me to stay with Mom. Which is what I’m trying to do for you, Peter. You know, keep you alive because everyone’s fucking dying around here.”

“Ms. Stark... may I call you Y/N?” Your eyes drift over to Quentin Beck, who has that easy-going, comfortable vibe going on with him, before you blink. Is he really trying to talk to you? God. 

“That is my name, isn’t it?” The squirming feeling in your stomach doesn’t cease as you can almost spot something in his gaze. Something that lights up at how much bite is in your bark. Fuck that. “Look—”

“Did I say I wanted to hear from you, Mr. Beck?” you ask coolly and you shake your head. “This is great. Elementals are coming to destroy us all, but what I don’t need is for you to drag my sixteen-year old cousin into an Avengers-level situation.”

“I’ll respect Parker’s choice, so long as I hear it from him.” Fury turns to your cousin and a tick of impatience flares inside your heart. Somehow, you really doubt that.

“I just want to enjoy my summer. Mr. Beck seems like he has it all handled,” Peter says with a shrug, gesturing to the outrageously garbed Quentin Beck. You breathe out a small sigh of relief and you stand up straight, nodding curtly to Fury.

“Goodnight.” Brushing past, you head for the entrance of the hideout as Peter walks after you. He looks more concerned than anything else, and you’re quite sure that if you were a cartoon, smoke would be fuming out of your ears. Peter looks at you like that, anyway. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” he asks quietly and you pause at the lip of the tunnel. Turning around, you note that no one’s followed either of you and paste on a smile, opening your arm for Peter. He slinks towards you and your arm lands comfortably around his shoulders as you nod. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You were being a bit more…” He searches for the right word and you eye him with a narrowed gaze. 

“Bitchy?”

“I was going to say overprotective or tense. One of those,” he corrects and you smile down at him, fingers running through soft curls. “But yeah.” Chuckling, you look up at the dark inky sky, the warmth of the summer wind caressing your cheeks. 

“Happens sometimes, kiddo. Gotta protect who I’ve still got.” 

A steady fall of footsteps catches your attention and you turn to the tunnel where Dmitri comes out of, a stoic expression as ever upon his face. You return your gaze to Peter, and send him a smile.

“You gotta head back to the hotel, alright?” you order, but it sounds more like a request, and he nods. A genuine smile comes upon your face. He’s such a good kid, and hell if you’re going to let Nick fucking Fury lay his hands on him.

“What about you?”

You squeeze Peter’s shoulder. “Be there in a minute.”

Dmitri climbs onto the boat with Peter who sends you an uneasy look. You don’t blame him. The guy is pretty intimidating if you let him, and although Peter’s no chicken, you cannot deny the fact that Dmitri looks like he can snap any man in half with a flick of his fingers. You hide your chuckle behind your smile, the engine purring to life in the water as you step closer to the water. Waving to your cousin, you watch as he becomes a spot in the distance and wait until he disappears completely before turning around.

You wrap your arms around yourself, the wind playfully tugging at the free-hanging strands around your face. Climbing up the steps, you walk through the streets aimlessly, a sort of boundless energy putting an unshakeable urge to do something in your legs. You cross bridges and pass fountains, climb steps and buildings before you settle on top of a flat-roofed ice cream place that’s next to some taller residential building. Maybe you can find some fucking peace and quiet.

“Nice kid.”

Nope.

The sound of his voice can still send shivers down your spine, and you fucking hate it. You whip around to see him standing there and you swallow. It’s not fair for him to be here.

“Why’d you lie?” you ask softly, the first question out of your mouth. The wind carries your words through moonlight, and you turn around again to see him there. He’s still wearing that ridiculous suit and you wonder how on Earth he’s managed to get up here in that thing. The cape looks rich to the touch, and all you want to do is run a hand over the smooth metal of his chestplate. “You’re not from some Multiverse.”

“People need a sob story to believe in,” he whispers and you take a step back for every step he takes towards you until you’re pressed flush against the stone. 

“Well, I’m sure Fury wouldn’t have a problem with you just trying to save our world, period.” Your heart quivers in your chest and you inhale sharply as his hand reaches for your wrist. 

“You know the Multiverse is real, Y/N. What’s one tiny lie?” The scent of him is intoxicating, and it floods your senses like nothing else as you swallow. He smells like river water and sweat and smoke, blue eyes darkened by the shadow the moonlight casts behind him. 

Pressing your lips together, you shake your head. “Let’s say I keep your tiny secret. Are, at least, the Elementals real?” 

You need to know. Quentin draws back for a moment, as if surprised, and you jut out your chin defiantly. You step away from the wall, walking around him until he turns around to face the moon. When the light glares into his face, the shadows no longer cut his face in a mysterious way and that hypnotic aura melts away. In fact, it makes him look all the more ridiculous in his getup and you can’t help the smirk working its way onto your face.

“Is that what you ask? Really? After seven years?” 

You scoff and throw your arms up in the air. “You want to talk about this now?” You cannot believe him. “You want to talk about this right now?”

“No!”

“Then, answer the question!”

“They’re as real as I said they were,” he spits. You play with the necklace hanging around your neck, the pendent containing all the nano parts you need to form a full suit as you run his words over your head.

“Real as in…?”

“Y/N.”

“Quentin, you broke up with me over a text, okay? I get to be as skeptical as I want. Just be glad I didn’t rat you out to Fury.” You don’t dare look at him as you stand on the edge of the building, feet wide apart and your arms crossed over your chest. You hug yourself against the soft wind, eyes angled up at the moon as pebbles shift underfoot. Quentin comes to stand beside you but you refuse to look at him. You think it’s the Stark pride coming in, but you know Parkers have their fair share of being petty. Or you could be the black sheep. Dad always said…

Dad.

“Look, I’m sorry about your dad.”

“Shut the fuck up, you hated my dad.” You sigh, feeling something inside you unwind. You don’t know what it is, but this vacation is turning out to be a hell of a lot more stress than you bargained for. “But, if you mean it, thanks.”

“I do. I only care because you cared about him,” he murmurs. His gaze burns into your cheek and you close your eyes for a moment, your heart skipping beats as you try to fix the dam that’s been broken ever since your dad left. “I really am sorry for your loss.”

“Yep, well, it’s what happens when your dad’s fucking Tony Stark.” You force a painful smile that digs too deeply into your face like you do whenever you think about how your dad is… was Tony Stark. It was always such a strange concept to you. Yeah, you were Tony Stark’s love child but you grew up in Queens, with your mom who eventually married Ben, and they decided not to have kids because Tony Stark and May Parker’s kid was enough for three families over. 

And you had a normal life. 

Your normal was Tony Stark picking you up from school sometimes and talking to DUM-E as you tried to help make your dad’s newest suit. Your normal was dinner in a small apartment in Queens with your mom, and dad, and Ben, and eventually Peter too.

Your normal was hanging out with Earth’s mightiest heroes, working at Stark Industries, and kissing Quentin Beck in the shadow of the Statue of Liberty, until it wasn’t.

Until Siberia.

Your whole life shattered.

“Y/N—”

“Why are you here?” you ask flatly. Your eyes drift off, taking in the view of the city and his gaze rips away from your cheek. “If these things are real, how do you know about them?”

“One showed up in Ixtenco.”

“That’s where Fury found you.”

“It’s where I found out how to kill these things.”

“Okay, how?” You turn to him at last, training your gaze on him. He meets your eyes steadily as you continue, “Wouldn’t it be better if we all knew how to kill these things?”

“Magic.” You arch an incredulous eyebrow at him, and he shrugs. “Would you believe magic tomb?”

“No. Try the truth.”

“I’m serious.”

“Shut up.”

“I really am!” he laughs into his words then, and you feel the smile flickering onto your face before you can stop it. Your knuckles hit his forearm in a gentle slap before you know it and you angle your head to look at him. The moment your eyes meet however, the smiles fade, and you’re left reminded of the one text. The two words. Exhaling, you back away from the edge of the building and turn back around to where you know the hotel is. “Y/N… maybe we should talk about it.”

“I really don’t think it’s necessary.”

“C’mon.” He trails after you, the subtle brush of his cape indicating as much as you leap to a nearby building. Some of these places are close enough to leap from roof to roof. You wonder how far you can make it to the hotel before you have to use your thrusters. “Y/N!” 

“Don’t wanna hear it!”

“Come back!”

His voice echoes in the night as you land on some pizza place that was a much higher drop than you’d anticipated. Pain lances up your bones and you walk it off, shaking your leg every few steps. Quentin still follows you, remarkably floating and you eye him warily as he catches up to you. 

“Look, sweetheart, I can chase you all day,” he says, arms presented in a shrug-like you choose gesture and you roll your eyes, “but I don’t want to.”

“You used to have fun chasing me way back when,” you retort and he blinks at you as if he cannot believe you said that. You smile smugly, triumphant that you’ve got the jump on him as he lands softly on his feet before you. Your gaze flickers up and down his visage, and you can’t help the fact that although the getup is completely, irreversibly ridiculous…

Quentin Beck makes it work.

“Let’s say magic tomb sounds possible,” you say and he smirks. You can’t help the small smile that fits onto your face perfectly — like it was always supposed to be there. You wipe it off before it becomes too comfortable. Focus. We have a situation at hand. “So, how does it work?”

“I think the Elementals are chained to the type of magic in the tomb.”

“So, you woke them up.”

“Honey, I’m not an idiot.” He lands softly on his feet. “There was a magic barrier. I’m guessing the Aztecs used to… reinforce it? But it hasn’t been visited in a while, since the Aztecs were killed off in the 1500s.” His palms up, he gestures as he speaks and his eyes drift off, as if recalling the memory to mind. It’s almost endearing. “It was like a vault, and it leaked. I was down in Ixtenco, taking samples from La Malinche when I found a cave near the volcano.”

“Right.” You nod slowly, unsure what to believe. “Hill said Elementals are visible in all kinds of mythologies. Are they all going to be like that water elemental? I’m not going to see a giant fire lizard patrolling the area, right?”

Quentin chuckles. “No. If we destroy the Elementals, they won’t come back as a lizard or otherwise.”

“How do you know? They could just sink back into the Earth, hibernate a couple of years…” You trail off meaningfully and your eyes meet his. “You’re not gonna be here the next time these things might come back, Beck.”

“Are you terrified of the thought, Ms. Stark?” he asks and your lips press together as you try to hide your smile. 

“Starks aren’t afraid of anything.” Searching his gaze, you frown when you find dark shadows lurking in his eyes. The man shouldn’t be so easy to read, but he is to you. Somehow. Like he’s letting you in. Like he cares what you think. He shouldn’t.

“Well, I can only learn from you. I am terrified of the thought that I might not make it,” he confesses. “It has to be me, though, doesn’t it?”

“You don’t have to do it alone. Fury’s here, and Hill, and I guess you have me, too.” You hold up a finger as he takes a step towards you and he pauses. The smile freezes on his face as you add, “But you don’t have Peter.”

“Fury already let him go.”

“And I know he doesn’t sink his claws into someone only to let them walk.” You shake your head. There’s something so terribly wrong about this situation that you can’t put your finger on it. You need to call Sam and Bucky back at the compound as soon as you get back to the hotel. Digging out your phone from your pocket, you frown at the 5% displayed. So you need to charge your phone, too.

Walking past Quentin, you fiddle with your phone to send a quick text to Peter to let him know you’re going to a bit later than you’d thought and slip the device back into your pocket. 

“I see how you care for the kid. I’ll try to convince him to let him go.”

“It’s Nick Fury. He doesn’t change his mind easily.” You sigh, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear before turning around. “Quentin, did you know I’d be here?” You need to know. This can’t be a coincidence that he’s working with a super-spy and recruiting your cousin when there’s a whole bunch of superheroes still alive back at home. 

His gaze, the shade of blue jays and sapphires and oceans, rakes over you, like he’s drinking you in, like he’s starving and you’re the only thing he needs to stay alive. A warmth ignites in your stomach. So there’s my answer.

“No.” Liar. “But can I say how glad I am that you are?” His words sneak their way into your soul, like he’s a siren playing to your deepest desires and you nearly wilt as he towers over you. His presence casts you to the edge of an abyss, one he left you to rot in seven years ago, and you can’t help but stay. No matter how hard you try to build up walls, he comes in like a wrecking ball.

“Quentin…” This is not how Starks behave. You are a Stark and you’re not one to think your dad fires people for no reason. He may have never let you see the file but you know there must’ve been a good reason and never pushed it. You thought you’d get the story out of Quentin himself. You got the text instead. Your expression hardens, your voice like stone. “Don’t think you can somehow convince me that I’m not angry. I’m really, really fucking angry. God, I deserved more than two words and you can’t just strut back in here, pretending like everything’s okay.”

He pulls away instantly, as if you’ve stung him, as if you’re the one broke up with him and a lick of annoyance seeps into your words. His eyes widen but yours narrow as you double-tap on the necklace. This was stupid, coming here. Entertaining the thought that I could ever still stand you.

“Y/N, you don’t get what I was feeling!”

Nanotech spreads across your collarbones, cold against your bare skin as your legs are encased with the suit.

“I was apparently not given the privilege to know,” you snap, taking one step off the building. Your thrusters ignite automatically as you continue drifting through the air. “Look, I’m gonna head off. It was nice seeing you, but I really need to sleep this day off.” 

“I’ll walk you home,” he blurts out all of a sudden and you freeze, his words banging around in your skull. Did you hear him right? You spin around to see Quentin standing on the edge of the building, looking like he wants to follow and you can’t help the warmth in your stomach from growing. Fire licks at your insides as you lower yourself onto the street, watching as Quentin floats down after you. “I meant that I can walk you home, if—”

“If I wanted to?” you finish dryly, the suit retracting into the necklace again as you turn to glance up and down the street. There’s no one out in the middle of the street at night, and you brush hair away from your face when a fly flits around your face. “No, thanks.”

“Y/N. Please?”

“Why? Because you want to get back together again?” You hope your words chew off every bit of his conscience, pull him apart. The rage you’ve repressed for seven years comes spewing out of your mouth as you storm up to him, shoving your face into his space. “Screw you, Quentin. You might’ve been going through a hard time, but so was I. Do you know where I was when I got the text?”

His eyes widen, his hands float around your arms like he wants to pull you back or touch you or something but he’s too scared to try. Internally you smirk, externally, your lips are pulled back in a snarl.

“Siberia, with my dad and no one was taking us home.” You can still taste the blood in your mouth as Steve dug his shield into your father’s chest. The winds that bit at your tears as you helped your dad sit up, helped him home. 

Your eyes sting but you swallow your tears, whipping around to walk out into the main street. You know, sooner or later, your internal compass will bring you to the right place. As you walk, your heels clicking against the stone, you hear the shift of his boots, the weight of his armor and stop. Your eyes closed, you clench your jaw hard enough you’re sure your teeth will crack.

“Stop following me.”

“Honey—”

“Fuck off, Beck.”

“I’m sorry!”

“Try harder!” Your scream pierces the night air and you almost reel at how it echoes in your chest. You kick a loose pebble with the toe of your boot and it scatters. The sound weaves into your ears as you turn around. “Do you even remember what you said?” The two words that would’ve broken you if it weren’t for the fact that your dad was just betrayed by Captain fucking America. You had more important shit than a breakup to deal with at the time. The two words that linger in your head once in a while. The two words that are the reason you swore off relationships. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Wrong.” When he doesn’t answer, perhaps stunned silent by the effigy of fury you are, you cannot help but tap your foot impatiently against cobblestone. You want to hear him say it. You want him to dig up his memories, rip him apart, thrash him with his guilt. You want him to hurt, you want him to care enough to say them.

God, you want him to love you, still and you hate yourself for it.

“Honey…”

“You got one of two words correct! Good job!”

“Stop. Please. You know I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, somehow I struggle to believe that.” You can’t even look at him anymore. You turn around, breaking out into the main street that’s washed with lamplight. Your heart feels like it’s turning to ash in your chest as you suck in a breath. You stuff your hands in your pockets, feeling the phone your dad gave you the day you became head of Stark Industries.

“Happy birthday, Matilda. Figured the best gift would be a new phone, coupled with a promotion.” 

“Thanks, Dad.”

“It has a channel for emergencies, only. I don’t want you to use it whenever Pete— uh, I mean—”

“Dad, it’s okay. Thanks.”

“What would convince you?”

“If you had the guts to give me the ring.”

There’s an eerie silence that fills up the street. You can hear the flies buzzing around the lampposts, a moth flickering along the yellow light, the gentle rush of the water running beneath the Floating City as you let out a bitter laugh.

“I knew about the ring.”

“Who told you?” His voice, hoarse and deep, trembles and you turn around to see red-rimmed eyes. Tears. You’d laugh again if it didn’t feel like your heart was going to burst.

“You suck.” Your voice twists as a flat smile works its way onto your face. “You’re awful, you know that?” Your fingers run over your eyes, trying to plug the tears as you paste on that fake smile of yours. “You might be the worst person I’ve ever met, and I’ve met aliens and killer robots, and people who have bombed the U.N., so it’s actually quite an achievement.”

“Y/N, honey, god, no.” He’s a stumbling mess and you bite your lip, wondering if this is some sort of act, some sort of cruel joke. The universe has served you the man who has left you and presented him on a silver platter. “Honey, please, I was a wreck. I’m sorry. I want to marry you.” You ignore his ‘want’. You can’t tell if it’s on purpose or if he’s slipped because you don’t know which makes you angrier. Your jaw aches as you paste on a twisted smile. “I’ve messed this up, haven’t I?”

“You think?” Your lip curls in disgust or maybe you’re trying to hide your tears. “You’re so clueless. God, how could you be so clueless? Dad never fucking wanted to fire you, you know? He knew about us.” The words burst from your mouth, violent and dangerous and full of fire that does not touch Quentin’s shattered face. His eyes shine in the lamplight and you think he might care enough. “God, he fucking knew about us.”

“How? I - I kept it a secret,” he begins but you laugh, run fingers blindly over your face as you feel your heart try to stitch itself together from a broken heart. If something’s gotta heal properly, sometimes you’ve gotta break it again. “I thought he fired me because he found out! He said he fired me because I was unstable, and irrational, and because you said something—”

Your eyebrows struggle to meet your hairline as you try to grasp words that might fit in a sentence and fail spectacularly. “You think I would’ve fired you? Who do you think I am?” Crossing your arms again, your fingers dig into your biceps as you rock back onto a foot, hip jutting out. You glare daggers into him and hope he bleeds. “One, I was twenty-two and Dad didn’t even consider me for head of Stark Industries until Pepper suggested it to him after the Blip or whatever the fuck they’re calling it. Two, why would I fire my fucking boyfriend? God, I loved you, more than anyone I’ve ever loved in my entire fucking life. You were supposed to be the one! That’s how my dad knew, okay? Because I told him I wanted to marry you.”

Something bleeds into your tone that warps it into a high-pitched mess and the tears come freely now. When did you ever sink this low to yell at someone in the middle of the street? It may be night, but the silence haunts you more than a full crowded street ever will. 

“You think my dad would care if I loved you? Wanted to marry you? You think he didn’t want me to be happy?” you ask achingly.

“I think your dad would care if he thought I was bad for you.”

Warm Venetian wind fills the space between you two, a space that’s too big and too small and just right. Your eyes do not move from Quentin’s as you try to catch your breath. Your lungs struggle against your tears as you wipe them away furiously. How many nights have you spent gazing into that soft blue, touching and scratching that scruff along his strong jaw. His hands could pry you open like a book, and some deep part of you wants to know if he still can. It’s silly, and you squeeze yourself harder to try and wake yourself up. You can’t do this right now. Not on Peter’s field trip. 

But still, words slip out and your curiosity gets the better of you.

“Are you?” Whispered words float like butterflies across the chasm between the two of you, and Quentin’s mask slips off for just a moment. You can see him — the real him, not this Mysterio, but Quentin Beck — and your heart nearly weeps. You’ve missed him so much. Maybe too much. 

Maybe if you didn’t have to focus on the Sokovia Accords, you could’ve grieved being tossed out like week-old milk, but now you’re here and Quentin’s here, and you’re grieving now. There were certainly days you wished you could’ve asked him why, asked him for an explanation, but you were always busy.

But now you aren’t and seven years of annoyingly tragic heartbreak is catching up to you.

Quentin’s next words come out hoarse, troubled. “I don’t know.” 

Your lips part and your lungs fail desperately. You don’t know how, but your legs have a mind of their own as you reach for his shoulders, neck, his jaw. Some part of him, you don’t know. God, all you want to do is touch him. You can feel his warmth, you’ve felt him ever since you’ve seen him, like your body tunes into his, and now all you want to do is run your hands through his hair, pull him apart, destroy him the way he’s destroyed you so many times before.

Your stomach twists into a wildfire, as he steps closer. Your hands tremble against his cool skin as he presses his palm over your knuckles, encouraging you to touch him. As if you are scared, as if you are afraid.

You had lied earlier. Starks can be afraid, but they aren’t afraid of men or monsters. Starks are afraid of mutually assured destruction.

God, maybe you do have a reason to be scared.

“I don’t trust men who broke my heart,” you whisper achingly, the words burning across your lips. His smile is the only thing you see as his hands trail down your arms, tracing your figure through your zipped up windbreaker and a quivering sigh passes through you.

“Then, trust the man who can fix it.”

The burn of his beard, the shadow that passes over your eyes as he leans down — it’s all so familiar that before you even recognize he’s leaning to kiss you, you’re reaching up to kiss him. Your eyes close. Your hands along his neck slide to loop around his neck and you pull him closer. His arm wraps around your waist, tugging you flush against him as his other tangles in your hair, and then there is nothing. The abyss is there again, wide and gaping and you stand at the edge with him holding your hand.

Together, you jump.

The night is so blissfully quiet that you cannot help but think that this is what romance movies are made of. This moment. Moonlight kisses the apple of your cheeks as you kiss him back, kiss him hard and kiss him fast. There is no time for soft or accommodating or gentlemanly. A Venetian tryst is alive with passion and fire, and you will be damned if you don’t get your money’s worth.

Smoke and river and wind all tangled between the two of you, you cannot help but sigh as he presses a bruising kiss against your mouth before trailing down to your jaw. He peppers your neck with tiny, nipping kisses before returning to your lips.

His mouth, plush and fulfilling and so fucking familiar, knows every trick to make you melt and your hands card through his hair, fingers pulling and snagging as your eyes close and the only reason the two of you part is that even you cannot breathe through another’s lungs.

You barely whisper his name, don’t even know if it passes your lips as he smiles, kissing your tentative grin in a gentle, soothing kiss. Although your makeout session was full of lips and tongue, and that alone can make you smile, your grin cannot help but grow at how soft the gesture is. 

He cups your face, thumb brushing over your lips as your fingers, locked behind his neck, push him insistently down towards you.

“What if I said I want to try again?” he asks, lips brushing yours with every word. You press your forehead against his, eyes closed as you let his words sink into your skin. His voice calms the adrenaline in your heart. You swallow, trying to regain your breath as his hand on your waist squeezes meaningfully. His lips catch the tear stains along your cheeks, kiss them away. “What if I still loved you?”

“Beck—”

“You’re the only Stark I don’t mind,” he whispers and you sniff, standing flat-foot again. Your hands sit on the juncture of his neck and shoulders, and your fingers play with the threads of his cape as you pretend to ponder.

“Well, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind Morgan. She’s the cutest little sister ever,” you whisper weakly. Growling playfully, Quentin pecks your lips and nuzzles against your neck. Your arms shooting around to hug him tight, he lifts you up. Your legs clamp around his waist and you let out a squeak as his warmth engulfs you, drowns you. 

Silver light washes over his skin, sculpts him handsomely. His eyes catch the moon as he spins you around, cape brushing against your calves and you lean down to kiss him quickly, just to remind yourself that he is still real, not some marble statue, not some mesmerizing god. With one arm around his neck, the other stroking his bearded cheek, you can’t help but wonder what your dad would think. Your smile crumbles away and you close your eyes. The smile falls off Quentin’s face and he lowers you back on the ground. The coolness between your thighs causes a shiver to dart up your spine. 

“I’m sorry for everything. I just…” He fumbles with his words and you nod. You don’t forgive him, not yet, but you know. That’s all. “I thought you didn’t want to see me again.”

“You know, I fucking hate you, right?” you ask even though you don’t. All you want to do is try again, too. Seven years isn’t enough to heal your heart of Quentin Beck and you’re not sure anything ever will be. 

Besides, maybe this is enough to convince Fury to let Peter enjoy his field trip if Quentin chooses you for the mission. The thought alone comforts your frantic heart. You take a step back, hair falling over your face and you rake it back with a hand before sticking out your other for Quentin to take. 

“You can remind me of that every day, honey,” he says as his fingers weave together with yours. His soft, gentle smile douses your anger, leaving nothing but the Quentin-shaped hole left inside you. You squeeze his fingers, and it’s almost as if it begins to fill again.

“I might just take you up on that.” You tuck your chin in, eyes on the stone and finger rubbing over that golden ring he wears. He grins, pulling his fingers free. He pulls off the golden band and takes your left hand, slipping it carefully on your thumb. It doesn’t fit like it should, but it’s the intention that matters. 

“I don’t think I’ll stop loving you, Stark.” He kisses hand, lips whispering against supple skin and you smile. It doesn’t feel as sad as it once did to smile at a man. “I’ll get you the real thing once it’s all over.”

“Walk me back to the hotel?” you ask and he nods.

“And you can tell me all the ways you hate me the whole way,” he promises and the two of you set off into the Venetian night.

[iliketowrite1996]

Part 1/3- His Mistake

TRIGGER WARNINGS AND THEMES- Secret relationship, sudden kiss, fighting feelings- Set after Endgame except nobody dies and Steve stays where he is at lol 

Steve Rogers is messed up.

    Steve Rogers  messed up, and he doesn’t know how to fix it.

    Steve Rogers messed up, he doesn’t know how to fix it, and he is currently, futile, pacing the floors of the Avengers Tower trying to figure out how to fix the thing that he messed up.

    Normally, he’d just ignore it- move past it and forget all about it, as he does with most things.

    It’s not that he’s never been in this position before. It’s that he’s never been in this position with the person that he is currently in this position with, and that’s what has him terrified.

Steve Rogers is no stranger to kissing. He may not have had much luck with women before the crash- he’d kiss one woman who’s name he ever had and Peggy. 

Post frozen state, though, he has certainly been on his fair share of dates. The kiss with Natasha, for example- he brushed past that after it initially occurred, not having any feelings for his teammate.

    The kiss with the waitress he went on a date with a few months ago, his kiss and fling with anyone else has never resulted in the sort of panic that he is feeling at this very  moment.

    ‘’Hey, Capsicle, is there any reason that you’re currently running a rut in the floor,’’ Tony raises an eyebrow at the man as he enters the office for their meeting.

    ‘’Stark, not now. Just don’t,’’ Steve raises a hand, to which Tony shrugs, deciding to tease his teammate another time.

    ‘’Just don’t run a hole in the floor before Fury gets here,’’ Tony advises as the rest of the team file in,

    Wanda, Vision and Pietro are first, followed by Sam and Bucky. Natasha is followed by Bruce, and Clint ambles in a while later with Rhodey. Thor and Peter are the last to enter, and the 13 of them patiently wait for Nicky Fury to enter.

    ‘’If he’s going to keep us waiting, the least that he could do is supply us with donuts,’’ Tony jokes, just as the door opens yet again.

    ‘’Please, Stark, with your wealth, you should be supplying the whole team with doubts, and cars, to boot,’’ you speak as you enter, coffee in a hand and laptop tucked under your arm.

    ‘’Ahh, he couldn’t be bothered with prepping us himself, so he sent his intern.’’

    ‘’Assistant, Stark. And now I see why Fury carries aspirin with him everywhere he goes, because you’re starting to give me a headache, too,’’ you deadpan, ignoring the snickers of the rest of the team, ‘’Anyway. Yes, he did send me to discuss with you the proper protocol for meeting with King T’Challa, also known as The Black Panther. So that we do not have another bowling incident like the one before.’’

    You pointedly look to Bruce, who looks to Rhodey, who is smirking at the memory of what occurred over six years ago.

    ‘’And he sent you.’’

    ‘’Yes, he sent me. If you're not happy with that, Stark, you may remove yourself from this meeting as well as my presence,’’ you look to the billionaire, ‘’Now, I suggest that you remain quiet until after this meeting is over.’’

    It’s enough to shut Tony up, and Steve appreciates your no-nonsense tone even more than ever, it no doubt being one of the reasons that Fury chose to train you to follow in his footsteps.

    The meeting is brief by their standards- you’re a bit concerned that Tony is going to manage to get on T’Challa’s nerves or that will trip and embarrass himself (his own personal worry, as well) but they seem up to par on protocol of the royal palace and how it has changed.

    ‘’That is it for today, you are all dismissed. Except you, Captain. I need to speak with you at once.’’

    ‘’Looks like somebody’s in trouble,’’ Bucky smirks, earning a nudge from Natasha as the rest of the team disperses, leaving you alone with Steve.

    ‘’Mr. Rogers… Captain America. I was looking through your files,’’ you start as you close the door, giving the two of you some semblance of privacy, ‘’And I noticed quite a few interesting things. Your height and weight before being injected with the super soldier serum, your battles, your wins and your losses, and even quite a bit on Peggy Carter.’’

    ‘’Is there any reason that you are looking for those things?’’

    ‘’I always check up on the files to see if there’s anything new coming up for the Avengers,’’ you shrug, ‘’I know that Peter is graduating from high school soon. I know that Natasha is ready to assume another alias should need a rise, and has several already picked out. I even know all about Tony’s intentions to have another child, other than Morgan. What I don’t know… is why you kissed me last night.’’

    Remember that big mistake that Steve was talking about earlier?

    Yeah. This is it.

    He kissed you, the person directly under Nicky Fury, who could very well become Steve’s boss in the next few years, should Fury retire.

    You’d been lounging in the living room last night, after one of Stark’s infamous parties. You would consider Steve more of a friend than someone you are in charge of. He shares side-eye glances with you at meetings, and he’s had your back more than once on a mission. He’s the one who knows what it feels like to miss so much of your life, to try to connect the past to the future, and how hard it is to decipher who you are now with who you used to be and how the two are somehow combined within the two of you.

Last night at the party, after everyone had gone to bed, you and Steve had been talking- about your pasts, your futures, and everything in between. You confessed that you wanted a family some day, and so does he. You hadn’t really been out on the dating scene much, and neither has he. He knows your favorite food, song, animal, color, and you know his favorite dance, book, memory, author.

    What you still don’t know is why he cupped your face, leaned in and kissed you last night.

    ‘’What do you want to hear from me,’’ Steve questions.

    ‘’I want the truth. I know that you’ve kissed several members of the shield before. Is this just… was that just because you do that? Is that your thing,’’ you fold your arms over your chest, ‘’Because if that’s the case, I’ll drop it like Natasha dropped hints that she is interested in you.’’

    ‘’It was a spur of the moment thing, but it had nothing to do with you the only one around me.’’

    ‘’It seems like that’s what it was,’’ you shrug again, ‘’Because in the two and a half years that I have known you, you’ve never done anything like that.’’

    ‘’You do not get it,’’ Steve lowers his voice, taking your face in his hands ‘’ Do you think this is what I want, to dance around you? You are a very beautiful woman. You are intelligent and courageous and I have had feelings for you for a long time.’’

    ‘’Then what’s the matter,’’ you stare up into crystal blue eyes, closing your own when Steve presses a kiss to your forehead, ‘’Because I care for you, too.’’

    ‘’We both know this is not such a good idea,’’ Steve shifts so that his arms are around you and he is holding you close, ‘’We work together. Our line of work is so dangerous.’’

    ‘’Which is why we should at least give this a try, Steve. I’m not opposed to trying something new if something good can come from it,’’ you smile gently, exposing Steve to a bit of who you are under your toughness, ‘’I think you know that.’’

    ‘’I do,’’ he sighs, pressing another kiss to your hairline, ‘’So what does that mean?’’

    ‘’I would like to give this a chance, Rogers. I’m done not going after what I want I know sometimes you just have to let things be, and let them fall into place. And if this doesn't work out, then it doesn't work out. No regrets if we actually try, it, though.’’

    Steve is sponsoring this as you speak, the only sound the voice of Tony walking past, which prompts you to say, ‘’And my dad doesn’t have to know.’’

    Steve tenses then, you  having brought up the very thing that he was worried about, ‘’I don’t want you to think that I am hiding this, so to speak.’’

    ‘’I know you’re not,’’ you pull back to look at him, ‘’Listen. I’m the first one that doesn’t want him to know. So we will keep this to ourselves- that means you won’t tell Bucky, and I won’t tell Wanda..’’

    He considers this. He’s kept so many secrets, hurt people, and lost people. This would be like opening a fresh wound, all over again,

    Perhaps, though, he’s thinking too far into the future. Perhaps there’s a chance that this could actually turn out well for the two of you.

    So it’s with a grin that he kisses you again, taking a chance on something that could actually be good for you.

    Even if it has to be a secret from others for the time being.

    And so it goes for three months. You and Steven for lack of a better phrase, sneak around. It’s kind of invigorating, kind of irritating. You steal kisses before and after every meeting that Nick directs, spar together when no one else using the training facility, have dates down by the river whenever the two of you can manage a free moment away from the others.

    Three months of glances at each other, secret dates, and never blurting a word of the truth to anybody, lest your dad figure out that the two of you are more than friends.

    Even as you sit across from him now,  dressed in your blouse the color of a ripe eggplant and your dress pants, hair slicked back into a low bun, he tries not to stare. You, for your part, try to ignore how good he looks in a suit at this moment.

    ‘’And please, I am begging of you,’’ Fury sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, ‘’Stark, keep your sarcasm to yourself upon this meeting with Dr. Strange and Mr. Wong. I am begging you.’’

    ‘’I’ll keep him in line,’’ you look over to the billionaire, who places his hands in the air in faux-surrender.

    ‘’I’ll behave.’’

    ‘’Of course you will- your wife and Ms. Romanoff will be there. Captain, and you,’’ Fury looks to you, ‘’Please hold back a second. I need to brief you two on your next mission.’’

    You and Steve share a look of confusion while the others leave, preparing for their meeting with Stephen Strange.

    ‘’It seems the two of you enjoy spending time together, so I would like the two of you to work together on this- would anybody like to be so bold as to help me understand why the two of you,’’ Fury points between you and Steve, ‘’Really thought that you could sneak around behind my back and no one would know?’’

    Your eyes widen, and Steve begins to sputter out an answer, ‘’Director Fury, we-’’

    ‘’Do you know whose daughter she is, Captain? Do you know that there are direct orders for herm’’ Nick turns his gaze back to you, ‘’Not to date a part of this team?’’

    ‘’Those are not official orders, and might I add, you have no say so in this,’’ you stand, ‘’We keep this relationship from affecting our work. To my knowledge, you don’t seem to have a problem with the fact that Vision and Wanda are together, that Pietro was practically flirting with the news recruit last month, or that Natasha and Bucky most definitely have feelings for eachother. I expect to be treated as a member of this team.’’

    ‘’You know that you are not like the rest of this team, and you’ve disobeyed director order,’’ he snaps, causing you to stand and slam your hands against the desk of the conference room.

    ‘’I am not a child anymore Nicholas!,’’ you seethe, ‘’I am not a little girl, you don’t get to tell me what to do outside of official orders.’’

    ‘’You seem to forget your place, agent. No matter- you’re right. You’re an adult. Do whatever you want to do, and when he,’’ Fury motions to your boyfriend, ‘’Gets you hurt, don’t you dare come to me. You know that not everybody loves Captain America.’’

    Fury is storming out of the room then, leaving an air of his daistate and your anger behind him as he does.

    Steve waits until he is sure that Fury is at least on the elevator before approaching you, wrapping his arms around you to comfort you, ‘’Honey, are you alright?’’

    ‘’I need some air,’’ you loosen yourself from his embrace, grabbing your things and making a hasty exit, but not before calling out, ‘’I’ll call you later, Steve.’’

    Steve looks at the door after you are gone, not sure if he regrets this decision that the two of you made, this choice to be with eachother even after all of the consequences had been weighed that night by the both of you.

    And all he can think about is that this is his fault because of the mistake he made three months ago.

    Because if Steve Rogers could go back in time, if he could change anything from the past 70 years…

    He never would have dared to kiss Nick Fury’s daughter.

DISCLAIMER- I don’t own any Marvel characters or their fictional worlds, planets, galaxies, cities, etc.

 @ashanti-notthesinger @destinio1 @afraiddreamingandloving @airis-paris14 @syreanne @chaneajoyyy @90sinspiredgirl @shemiahsmelanin @zillmonger @skysynclair19 @marvelpotterlove @constantlycravingtheunknown @imaginewhoever @wakanda-inspired @pocmarvelworks @theunsweetenedtruth @dreampovx @adrioola21 @supremethunda @thisiskayesworld @mcusocialimagines @priya212  @kumkaniudaku  @airis-paris14 @alexundefined @fonville-designs  @dramaqueenamby  @mellowjellow6 @oceanscorazon @nerd-lovely @fonville-designs @akimi-youngblood @yoyolovesbucky @fd-writes @areubeingserved-too​ @areubeingserved​ @thisbrokencapulet @squeackygee @melidris1  @honeydew-melanin @id-rather-be-an-outsider @andreasworlsboring101

[sorceress-coffee]

Recipe for Disaster

AO3 Link

River’s P.O.V.

During Strickler’s class, I was trying to focus. Every time I glanced at Stickler; all I could see was Bular’s sneer after calling Jim ‘Young Atlas’ the night before. Strickler was a Changeling, and we couldn’t assume how much he knew of us. During the lecture, I could feel Eemeli’s gaze burning the side of my face. Sighing I finally turned to him.

 “What’s wrong?” I asked, trying to relax. Finding it hard whenever Strickler walked near my desk.

 Eemeli shrugged, glancing at Strickler’s back when he passed us. “You’re tense, I can hear your spine creaking.” He joked, trying to diffuse the tension.

 Frowning, my eyes trailed after Strickler, keeping my voice down as Eemeli and I spoke. “We found out something yesterday, it’s… well, I don’t know how to feel about it. Everyone else seems to have made up their minds on the situation.” I explained trying to keep it vague, wanting to keep Eemeli out of our Trollhunting activities. He may know about Trolls now, but that didn’t mean he had to put himself in danger for our fight.

 “It has something to do with Strickler?” He asked, going back to his notes whenever Strickler faced the students to talk. “You look torn.”

 I frowned at my notes when Eemeli pointed it out. “I’ve known Strickler for four years, he’s been a history teacher here for… well forever. After yesterday though, it sounds as if he’s working for someone interested in hurting Trolls and humans alike. I just can’t imagine Strickler would do that?” I explained, skipping over the Changeling part.

 Eemeli studied me until the bell rang. Quickly packing his notes away, turning to face me. “Have you tried asking him about whatever it is you’re worried about?” He asked, stiffening as Strickler stopped behind me.

 I turned quickly to face Strickler, smiling timidly. “Mr. Stickler sir, is everything alright?” I asked, hoping my nerves didn’t show through.

 Strickler paused, frowning in thought, “No, actually, I wanted to speak with you for a moment Young Mordred.” He glanced back at Eemeli. “Alone if you prefer.” He suggested.

 I glanced over my shoulder, realizing Eemeli and I were the only students left in class. Turning back to Strickler, I shrugged smiling at him, “That’s alright, Eemeli’s a friend, I don’t mind him staying.”

 Strickler hummed, giving a quick nod, he leaned back against a desk, playing with his pen. “I was hoping things wouldn’t become awkward between us in light of recent events.” He stated, watching me for a reaction.

 My eyes widened, wondering if ‘recent events’ meant knowing he was a Changeling. “I’m sorry sir, I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about,” I told him, needing clarification.

 Stickler smiled, setting his pen down. “Your mother has invited me to dinner, and I graciously accepted. It seems I will be seeing you tonight. Would that make things awkward?” He asked, gesturing to the classroom.

 “Oh,” I said, tilting my head in thought, “I don’t see why that would be an issue, sir. Does Jim know you’re coming over tonight? Trust me, you’ll want him to be the one cooking. Mom’s is fatal to humans.” I joked, trying to act like everything was normal, not realizing I had gone stiff again.

 Strickler chuckled at the joke, nodding. “I have informed Young Atlas as well. He seemed a little on edge, though after what you’ve told me, he is probably just worried that your mother will try to cook for tonight.” He smiled.

 Eemeli cleared his throat, “Uh, River?” He spoke up, glancing to Strickler, “We have the art project to work on tonight, didn’t Ms. Harper say something about mid-process checks coming up?” He asked, giving me an out from the dinner tonight.

 My eyes widen, looking back at Eemeli, relaxing slightly, “I forgot we were doing that tonight! Mr. Stickler, it looks like I won’t be able to stay during dinner, I hope you have a good time with mom and Jim thought.” I apologized quickly, Eemeli leading me to the door.

 Strickler just smiled, waving it off. “Of course, schoolwork comes first. Have fun working on your project.”

 Eemeli and I headed out quickly. The rest of the day blurred by as we all finally got back to the house, hanging out in the basement as Jim goes over the plan with Draal, Eemeli, and myself.

 Draal sneered, “I don’t like this plan. It lacks a certain, killing the Changeling, aspect.” He growled out.

 “We aren’t killing him,” I snapped, having heard enough about ripping Strickler apart to get answers. “We don’t even know if he’s here for malicious reasons. Mom invited him over, remember?” I asked crossing my arms over my chest defensively.

 Draal eyed me confused, unsure why I would be against harming Strickler to get answers. “He’s working for Bular, therefore he’s working for Gunmar, which means he’s a threat to Trolls, Humans, the Trollhunter, and you,” he explained, believing that was reason enough to sway my opinion on the matter.

 I leveled a glare at Draal, “Does he have a choice?” I simply asked.

Draal was taken aback by my question, jaw hanging as he processed what I asked. Jim looked to be in shock as well.

 Eemeli’s head snapped up to look at me, eyes wide. “Okay, I get Changelings are bad, from how Jim and Draal have been talking about them, so why would you ask that?” He asked, just as stunned as Jim and Draal.

 Walking over to one of the shelves holding books in Trollish, I grabbed one that explained Gumm-gumms and Changelings, flipping to a page on Changelings specifically reading from it. “’ Gumm-gumm soldiers raided Troll villages, kidnapping the young. These young trolls were changed by a process created by,’ The name has been blacked out. ‘to spy on the surface world. They were turned into what is now know as a Changeling, and are controlled by Gunmar.’” I finished setting the book back on the shelf. “So, does he have a choice?” I asked again, looking up at Draal.

 Draal snarled, finally recovering from the shock. “Either way, he’s an impure working for Gunmar, he’s a threat.” He tried to reason.

 Teeth bared I snarled back at him, “Why do Trolls treat Changelings like they are monsters? They’re still Trolls! It’s not their fault Gunmar kidnapped them!” I snapped out.

 Draal reeled back in shock, never having seen me angry before, let alone having the anger directed at him.

 Eemeli nudged me when it was clear Draal wasn’t going to speak further on the topic. “We should go before Strickler gets here. We have to meet up with the others.” He spoke, heading to the stairs.

 Sighing, I grabbed Midnight and walked past Draal, heading after Eemeli quickly. Once out of the house we took off running to the school, meeting up with Arrrgh and Blinky at the doors. “What are we waiting for?” I asked Blinky, unsure of why they hadn’t gone in yet.

 Blinky sighed, tapping his foot impatiently, “We are waiting on NotEnrique and Toby to open the doors. Master Jim has forbidden us from breaking anymore after the incident at Claire’s house.” He winced at the memory, having waited for Jim after the Nunez’s returned.

 The doors swung open quickly, NotEnrique hanging on one, grinning as he spots me, “Well if it isn’t the Witch. I didn’t know you were coming out here too.” He snickered, jumping to my shoulder. As we walked in, he turned to Eemeli, “Who’s the new fleshbag?” He asked, sneering at him.

 I laughed, patting his head, “NotEnrique, this is Eemeli, he’s a friend from school. Eemeli this is NotEnrique, he’s a Changeling. The incident Blinky mentioned earlier was us finding out that Enrique had been switched with NotEnrique.” I explained as we followed behind Blinky, Arrrgh, and Toby.

 Eemeli smiled, poking NotEnrique’s nose, “After what Jim and Draal had said I expected something… scarier?” He chuckled, NotEnrique swatting his hand away.

 “Watch it fleshy,” NotEnrique hissed out, switching to my other shoulder. “Us Changelin’s are scary enough. Trust me.” He huffed out.

 I shook my head with a small smile. How could people think this guy is a little monster? We quickly made it to Stickler’s office. “So, what exactly are we looking for, other than information on the bridge?” I asked Blinky as we began tearing through Strickler’s shelves.

 Blinky huffed, landing on the piano, “Anything suspicious and dangerous.” He said as if that explained exactly what to look for. He lifted the lid of the piano and grinned, “Oh! I haven’t seen one of these in ages!” He cracked his knuckles and began to play the piano with all four of his arms, it sounded like a classical duet.

 Toby was looking around Strickler’s desk when he picked up the pen Strickler always had on him. “If I were a Changeling, where would I hide a super-secret key?” He asked himself, opening and similarly closing the pen as Strickler during class.

 I rolled my eyes, looking around near a larger purple gemstone Strickler had on a shelf. NotEnrique pulled on my ear as I got close to the stone, “I wouldn’t go touching that if I were you,” he warned quickly, eyes locked on the stone, a flash of fear crossing his face.

 I glanced at the stone again before pulling away with a nod. If it scared NotEnrique, it was probably best left alone. Eemeli groaned next to me, having cleared another shelf. “Why would he hide anything here? Aren’t there too many humans around?” He asked.

 Toby jumped out of his seat, holding up the pen, throwing the cap. “I found a key! How spy is this?” He asked, turning to Blinky and Arrrgh.

 Blinky grinned, examining the key. “A Changeling key for a Changeling lock!” He cheered, “Quick, we must find the lock!”

 Sighing, I went over to the shelves behind Strickler’s desk with NotEnrique. Pulling a few books back I paused, seeing an oddly shaped hole in the shelf. “Hey Blinky, is this it?” I asked moving away from the shelf.

 Blinky and Toby both crowded the shelf. Toby reached up with the key, trying to get it to turn. “Why isn’t it working?” He asked, pulling away from the shelf.

 Blinky looked back at me, specifically at NotEnrique perched on my shoulder. “A Changeling lock for a Changeling key.” He simply stated.

 I looked over to NotEnrique, smiling softly. “Would you mind helping?” I asked, not wanting to force him into opening the lock.

 NotEnrique looked at me stunned as if asking for help was a foreign concept to him. He slowly eyed the others before waving his hand at the key Toby still held. “Give it here fleshbag.” He growled out.

 I smiled walking to Toby so he could hand the key off to NotEnrique before returning to the lock. NotEnrique sigh before sticking the key in and turning it. As soon as he turned the key, a mechanism behind the wall released pulling it back, revealing a hidden room.

 Toby rushed in, going directly to a book sitting on a pedestal, “Whoa, this is so cool!” He grinned stopping on a page depicted two different trolls and what appeared to be humans for lunch.

 “The Book of Ga-Huel,” Blinky grinned, recognizing it instantly, “Record of Gumm-gumm history.” He explained.

 I stood next to Toby, wincing as I read over the names of the Trolls on the page. Toby grinned pointing to the picture of the Troll on the right. “Hey Arrrgh, this one kind of looks like you.” He said, grinning up at Arrrgh.

 Arrrgh sighed, turning away from the book. NotEnrique snickered from my shoulder, looking over the picture. “That’s because it is Arrrgh.” He grinned as Toby’s face fell, looking from the book to Arrrgh’s back.

 “You… you used to eat people?” He asked softly, not wanting to believe NotEnrique.

 Blinky and Arrrgh explained that Arrrgh had been a Gumm-gumm general in Gunmar’s horde. That he turned on Gunmar and helped seal him away, taking a pacifist oath after the war.

 Toby smiled, looking up at Arrrgh. “You may have been one of them, but you’re one of us now Wingman.” He stated, giving Arrrgh a fist bump.

 I smiled at the exchange. Eemeli and NotEnrique both seemed shocked that Toby could accept Arrrgh so easily after learning he had been a Gumm-gumm who ate humans in the past. We continued to look for items that could help us find Killahead Bridge. I found a large ring made of stone and crystal, turning it over. “What’s this?” I asked Blinky.

 NotEnrique winced, seeing the ring. “It’s uh… nothing…” He tried to argue before letting out a sigh, “It’s how I got here.” He grumbled out after a moment.

 Blinky nodded, taking the ring to examine it. “This is a very rare artifact indeed. It houses crack between our world and the Darklands, it’s called a Fetch” he explains. Blinky handed it off to Toby who was poking at it, trying to classify the crystals.

 Eemeli and Toby examined it, bouncing back ideas of what it could be when Toby activated in on accident. “Why not take a look on the other side? You’re still looking for Enrique, right?” Eemeli suggested. Toby nodded and stuck his head through the portal.

 NotEnrique pulled my ear harshly, trying to get my attention.

 I yelped at the tug, “What is it?” I asked, trying to rub the ear he still ha a hold on. NotEnrique simply pointed to the crystal he had warned me about earlier. Smoke began to pour out of it quickly. “Uh, Blinky, there’s a problem!” I yelped as the smoke began to lash out towards us.

 Arrrgh growled at is, ripping Strickler’s door off its hinges, blocking the smoke for now. “Run!” He yelled and we all took off quickly, running down the halls.

 As the smoke began to close in, Blinky and Arrrgh shoved Toby, Eemeli, NotEnrique, and I to the right. “Run, we’ll lead it away!” He instructed, turning to taunt the smoke creature chasing us.

 NotEnrique jumped from my shoulder, running down the hall towards the gym. “This way!” He yelled over his shoulder.

 I shoved Eemeli and Toby forward, running after NotEnrique. A glance back to Blinky and Arrrgh revealed that the smoke monster had decided to chase us instead of the Trolls. Once I made it into the gym I pulled out Midnight, activating it and sliding it through the door handles. “That’ll only hold it back for a moment,” I told them quickly.

 Toby was yelling at NotEnrique, “Why’d you run away?” He asked, not having heard NotEnrique directing them as his head had still been in the Fetch.

 “Why’d you trust a Changeling?!” NotEnrique snapped back, pissed off that Toby was yelling at him.

 I got between them quickly, leveling Toby with a glare to shut him up before turning to NotEnrique, “I trust you. You warned us about the smoke monster and helped get us here. Do you think you can find a way out?” I asked him, glancing back at the door as the smoke back to seep through the cracks. Midnight barley holding it closed.

 NotEnrique nodded, running to the rope and climbing it quickly, he knocked the grate off of the air vent and waved for us to follow him.

 Eemeli nodded to me before heading up the rope. Toby was panicking looking from the rope to the door before running for the rope, quickly climbing up. “I’m doing it!” He cheered as I followed after him. He paused to ring the bell before slipping into the vent.

 I turned back as the door broke, reaching out, I summoned Midnight back to me before slipping in the vent and following after the boys. I could hear each one scream up ahead as I turned, falling right after them. I was launched out a vent, landing on a piled of limbs, consisting of NotEnrique, Toby, and Eemeli.

 The smoke monster quickly followed after me. Before I could react, Blinky and Arrrgh blocked it, using the Fetch to send it to the Darklands. As the force began to push them back, the boys and I quickly jumped up, helping them hold the Fetch until the last of the monster was gone.

 I groaned, sliding back against the wall. NotEnrique sitting next to me. “I’m starting to think Strickler wants to kill us,” I frowned, wincing as I tried to move. Getting launched out of the air vent left some bruises.

 NotEnrique frowned looking up at me, then back to the air vent. “No kidding,” he sighed, curling up next to me.

 Eemeli stood carefully, sore from Toby and I landing on him. “Maybe we should get him home. What if the family goes to check on him?” He asked, checking his phone for the time.

 I nodded picking NotEnrique up as Blinky, Arrrgh, and Toby were celebrating their victory over the smoke monster. “Hey guys, we’re going to head out, I’ll see you later,” I nodded to them, walking out with Eemeli.

 NotEnrique climbed back up to my shoulder, drifting off as he hung on. “Didn’t think he’d have one of those hiding around,” he yawned out.

 “What was that thing?” I asked, making sure he wouldn’t fall if he fell asleep.

 “Antramonstrum,” he said, dozing off.

 Eemeli chuckled at the sleeping Changeling, “I think someone likes you.” He teased, nudging my shoulder with his.

 I laughed softly as we walked to the Nunez house. “It’s weird, I can’t help but think he… and other Changelings, aren’t all bad. If it wasn’t for NotEnrique warning us, I don’t know if we would have gotten out of there.” I sighed, patting the top of NotEnrique’s head.

 Eemeli nodded, watching the exchange, “He could’ve run off without warning us, could’ve taken off into the vents right away too if he wanted. I think he wanted to help.” He stated easily, poking at NotEnrique’s feet. Letting out a soft chuckle when the small Changeling kicks out a bit in his sleep.

 I smiled softly, pausing outside of the house, “I’m glad he did.” I nudged NotEnrique’s time, waking him. “This is your stop… thank you NotEnrique, for helping tonight.” I smiled at him setting him down.

 NotEnrique yawned, whacking softly at my hand, “Don’t go thanking my Witch. You were my way outta there.” He said, trying, and failing, to play it off.

 I giggled ruffling the hair on his head. “Whatever you say squishy.” I grinned, waving as he climbs up to the second floor, sliding into the nursery window easily.

 Eemeli chuckled, leading me back to my house. “Squishy?” He asked, “Isn’t he made of stone?”

 I laughed, nodding, “He is, it’s kind of a joke from right before finding out he’s a Changeling. In his human form, I called him a squish when I found him.” I explained.

 Eemeli snorted a laugh, “I’m starting to think you’re the reason he stayed to help.” He pointed out.

 I shrugged, smiling softly as we stopped on the porch, Mr. Strickler walking out with what looked like leftover pie. “Ah, Mr. Strickler, have a good night.” I smiled up at him.

 He paused, looking between Eemeli and me for a moment before smiling, “You as well Young Mordred. Eemeli.” He nodded to us before heading to his car, taking off.

 Eemeli’s gaze following the car for a moment, “I should probably head back, my uncle might get worried if I’m out too late.” He smiled, hugging me quickly before taking off down the road.

 I shook my head, entering the house to see mom and Jim arguing, Draal had snuck up the stairs behind mom, holding out an unconscious Claire by the ankle. Jim nodded for him to go back down as he and mom finished their argument.

 I quickly ran down to the basement as soon as mom left. Draal was still holding Claire up by the ankle. “What is doing here?” I hissed out, Jim quickly joining us.

 Draal shrugged, “She came in through the window, I tried to stay hidden, then she sneezed. I said “gesundheit,” she screamed, and then walked into the pipe,” he explained quickly.

 I groaned, realizing we couldn’t wait for her to wake up. The last thing we needed was another person getting attacked.

 Jim sighed, showing Draal how to hold Claire so the blood wouldn’t rush to her head. “Can you two get her home? I’m not allowed anywhere near her house.” He asked, looking from Draal to me.

 I nodded, heading through the steel door into the sewers, heading for the Nunez house again. Draal followed behind me, eyes trained on the back of my head.

 Feeling his gaze burn into my head, I quickly turned to face him, “What?” I asked, trying not to snap, our fight earlier still fresh in my mind.

 Draal sighed, slowing his pace, but continued to walk. “You… asked if the imp” he cut himself off, taking a deep breath, “if this Strickler, had a choice in helping Gunmar. I do not know.” He finally answered, holding his hand up as I went to reply. “All I know is that attacked Jim in your home while your mom was present, he tried to convince Jim to hand over the Amulet. If that had happened, he could open the bridge…” He trailed off, collecting his thoughts, “he mentioned wanting to protect you both.” He stated, finally dropping his hand.

 I frowned, eyes locked on the ground, “Draal, all I know of Troll culture is what I can read about in the tombs Vendel send home with me. I know Changelings have done terrible things but… they’ve done some good too.” I nod to an exit, “I’ll explain when we drop her off,” I said, climbing up to the surface. As we approached the house, I could see NotEnrique heading out of his window again. I frowned, watching him leave before pointing to Claire’s window.

 Draal was able to climb up and deposit Claire on her bed. Once he was back on the street, I let out a sigh, glancing at where NotEnrique had gone. “I’m not so sure about Strickler anymore…” I frowned looking up as Draal as we headed into the trees, staying out of sight, “He had something NotEnrique called an Antramonstrum in his office.”

 Draal’s head snapped to me. He quickly rushed over, checking for injuries. Worry etched over his face. “How are you not dead?” He asked softly, holding onto my arms after checking them for injuries.

 “NotEnrique’s to thank for that. He warned us about it. When it began to chase us, he was able to lead us away from it long enough for Blinky and Arrrgh to use a Fetch to seal it in the Darklands.” I explained, smiling at how worried he was, even though we had just fought.

Sighing in relief, Draal pulled me into a tight hug. “I must… thank the… NotEnrique, then.” He finally got out.

 I hugged him tight, “I’m sorry… for snapping earlier, it’s just… after reading about them and seeing how scared NotEnrique was at being found out, I feel like some of them don’t want to fight. Some might even want to help.” I explained.

 Draal nodded, picking me as he headed to the house again. “You said your thoughts on Strickler changed.”

 Curling up in his hold I nodded against his chest. “He knew we were going to be there. No matter what he told Jim, he tried to kill us with that thing.” I sighed, frustrated, and angry.

 Draal hummed, changing direction to go further into the forest. Draal allowing me to vent over my confusion with the Changelings we knew. After NotEnrique had helped keep me safe, he was open to the idea that not all Changelings were Gunmar’s tools. We kept going into the early hours of the morning before I tired out. Falling asleep as Draal turned back towards home.

 Eemeli’s P.O.V.

I smirked walking into Strickler’s office, eyeing the sling holding his arm. “Looks like the Trollhunter did a number on you.” I stood next to NotEnrique, leaning back on the desk.

 Strickler hummed, looking over the mess they left his office in. “I see the Antramonstrum didn’t work. Though it’s for the best. We wouldn’t want to lose valuable assets.” He smirked, seeing the page the book of Ga-Huel was turned to.

 “Speaking of, you should have heard River’s fight with Draal, never thought I’d see her angry.” I snickered, gaining Strickler and NotEnrique’s interest. “River’s been reading up on us. Looks like she found the part where we’re all kidnapped Trolls being forced to do Gunmar’s dirty work. She snapped at Draal for threatening to kill you or tear you apart for information tonight.” I explained, a smirk growing at the stunned expression of NotEnrique and Strickler. “Even had the guts to ask if any of this was your choice.”

 NotEnrique frowned a bit, eyes locked on the desk as I told them about the fight. “She’s a stupid fleshbag witch, all that caring is going to get her killed.” He growled out. Standing, he stretched before heading to the window. “I have to get back, past my bedtime.” He grumbled heading out.

 Strickler smirked. “First the amulet, now this?” He pulled out the Amulet, grinning. “Today went very well.” He waved his hand dismissively and I took that as my cue to head out.

 On my way out I ran into NotEnrique, “Squishy is it?” I asked, teasing him about River’s pet name for him.

 He growled, turning to face me. “So what?” He asked defensively.

 I shrugged, walking past him. “It’s a routine job. Don’t get distracted.”

 NotEnrique snarled behind me, “Ain’t nothing routine about that one,” he said. Heading back to the Nunez house.

 I paused, thinking over the events of the night. River had defended not just Strickler, but all Changelings, when she snapped at Draal. She was patient and considerate towards NotEnrique during their mission tonight. She even thanked NotEnrique for helping them after everything. I sighed watching the sky for a few moments. River was not a routine job. That was becoming painfully obvious.

[profeminist]

“Picture this: A free Black woman is being transported along in a carriage towards Covington, Kentucky in April of 1853. She had been working for a Ms. Rebecca Boyd in Cincinnati for three months. This Black woman is not certain of the purpose of the trip. Maybe it was so that Ms. Boyd could see about some money she was owed. Maybe not. The ride between Cincinnati and Covington was geographically and culturally significant. Between these two towns was the Ohio River, also known as “River Jordan,” the aqueous portal to freedom for enslaved Blacks. It was also the bridge between this free Black woman’s former life as an enslaved girl living on a Kentucky farm before being sold after her initial owner’s death. Ms. Boyd gets out of the vehicle and this Black woman sees money being exchanged in the darkness. Then, the Black woman is forced to walk with strange men while Boyd returns to the carriage and returns back to the river. Unbeknownst to her, she is being kidnapped and sold back into slavery.

But this is not how her story ends. Rather, it was just beginning, and the long-awaited recompense — in the form of money doled out from her captor — to this crime is what pulls her life directly into the current cultural conversations surrounding reparations and the 400th year commemorations to the translatlantic slave trade. “Pass over them checks,” is what she said with regards to her captor, Zebulon Ward, and that he did. The $2,500 this woman was awarded is the largest known sum of restitution for enslavement by a United States court. Her name is Henrietta Wood, and she is the subject of W. Caleb McDaniel, PhD’s exhilarating book, Sweet Taste of Liberty: A True Story of Slavery and Restitution in America.”

Read the full piece here