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snowdice · 4 years ago

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Big Bang (Sort of) Editing Story [Day 57]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag proofread stories. I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25

I’m going to do this and chill for a bit. Then maybe force myself to do my grading later.

Chapter 27

After an, honestly quite aggravating, breakfast full of Virgil’s cognitive distortions about the likelihood of being poisoned, Logan was relieved to finally be able to leave the dining area. In consideration to those serving breakfast, Patton did not lead them through the door in the back of the dining room that went directly to the kitchen, and instead took them out of the room and down the hall to a different entrance. This one had a guard stationed across from it as, despite what Virgil may believe, the castle workers did consider the possibility that someone would want to sneak into the kitchen for nefarious purposes.

Said guard, of course, saw nothing wrong with the prince and the head chef’s son entering the side door even with the bonus stranger. In fact, he may even have known Virgil could be coming through this door if Ms. Heart had mentioned him.

Though Virgil hadn’t managed to catch it, Logan knew enough about Patton’s mother that he’d surmised that she had insisted Patton bring the boy to meet her. It was bound to happen at some point anyway, Logan knew, and he wasn’t particularly worried. After all, this was Patton’s mother. Virgil himself didn’t even seem particularly concerned.

Logan had seen him panic and, while he tugged a bit at the sweater he was wearing, the motion was not particularly fervent, so he was likely just slightly nervous.

Of course, that may be because he did not know Patton’s mother specifically wanted to meet him and just assumed that they were starting the necessary process of introducing him to castle residents with a low risk person.

When they entered the hallway, Logan could already hear the usual noises of the kitchen: the clattering of plates, the bubble of conversation, and the sound of Ms. Heart’s voice calling out instructions.

He did see Virgil hesitate, but Logan couldn’t sus out why and Patton was already ahead of them and opening the door into the kitchen. It was fairly calm for the kitchen considering it was meal hours. Logan imagined that Patton had chosen the time between when the day guards ate breakfast before their shifts and the night guards after their shifts on purpose. There was still a bit of chaos as dishwashers attempted to catch up during the lull and a few orders were still being made, but overall the mood seemed, to Logan at least, to be light as Ms. Heart ordered her kitchen around.

Yet, Virgil clearly did not see the situation the same way that Logan did. He froze when the kitchen door swung open and some of the workers turned to look at them. He took a step back, bumped into Logan, startled violently, realized it was Logan, and then side stepped to hide behind him. Logan looked back at him in confusion, but Virgil said nothing, proceeding to mutely peer over Logan’s shoulder.

Patton had moved over to greet his mother as she wiped her hands off on a rag. She glanced over at Virgil and Logan and Logan saw Virgil shrink back a bit.

Logan could see Ms. Heart’s eyes soften as she tracked his movement. She turned to the woman next to her and said something before moving to remove her apron and hang it up in its designated area. Virgil’s hands clenched in the fabric of Logan’s shirt when she turned back to him.

“It’s fine, Virgil,” Logan told him, but Virgil didn’t seem to believe him. Luckily, Patton had turned back and seemed to realize something was amiss.

He stepped back over to them. “Hey, honey,” he said. A plate clattered in the kitchen and Virgil just about ripped Logan’s shirt.

Patton frowned sympathetically. “Too loud?”

“Virgil,” Logan said. “You are digging your fingernails into my skin.” Patton shot Logan a glare. “What?”

“How about,” Patton’s mom suggested. Virgil’s fingernails dug more into Logan’s skin. “We go to my office.”

“I think that’s a good idea, Mama,” Patton said. “Come here, Virgil.” He reached over to touch one of Virgil’s hands and had to pull a bit to get him to release Logan. “It’s back that way, away from the kitchen,” he said when he managed to twine their fingers. He stepped around Logan, probably so there was still a buffer between Virgil and the kitchen and tugged him in the correct direction.

Ms. Heart shot a glance at Logan and Logan felt irrationally like she was trying to read his thoughts. Logan smoothed his features out and turned to follow Patton and Virgil towards her office.

As head chef, Ms. Heart had a small office where she could plan menus without the hustle and bustle of the kitchen and have meeting with people who needed to discuss dietary needs and restrictions. It was very well organized, but still looked fairly messy because of the numbers of decorations she had in it. She had a tendency to keep everything that Patton made her, thus she had his childhood drawings on the wall and little projects stacked on her desk and on the shelves. A lumpy cat statue acted as a paperweight on a stack of papers on her desk and there was a vase of fake flowers (as it could not actually hold water) sat near the window.

By the time Logan entered the room, Patton was trying to coax Virgil into sitting down on one of the two mismatched chairs, but Virgil was having none of it. He had turned to face the door and was yanking at his sweater in nervousness.

Logan noticed that Ms. Heart did not come far into the room, instead pausing near the door. She did, however close the door to give them privacy, and that seemed to distress Virgil more.

She seemed to contemplate him for a moment. “Hello,” she said, her voice softer than Logan was used to hearing. “You must be Virgil.”

It seemed as though he were willing himself to magically shrink, but he still replied. “Yes, ma’am,” he said quietly.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said. “I’m Patton’s mom.”

“I know, ma’am.”

“There’s no need to be formal, Virgil.”

He hesitated. “Okay,” he said somehow quieter.

Her eyebrows drew together in concern, and it seemed that she decided to result to her default way of making people more comfortable. “Would you kids like some candy?”

Logan saw Patton’s hand squeeze Virgil’s lightly. “That would be great, Mama.”

She nodded and walked forward towards her desk. Virgil turned so his back was never to her. If she noticed, she didn’t react. She just grabbed a small tin off one of her shelves and took the top off. “How about a peppermint candy?” she asked.

She offered the tin out to them. Virgil stared at it like it was a venomous snake. Logan decided to act, stepping forward and taking three of the pieces of peppermint candy from the dish. He stepped over to Virgil and Patton and held out his hand, offering Virgil first choice out of all three.

He hesitated before glancing between Patton and his mother. He must have decided that Patton’s mom wouldn’t risk poisoning Patton and took one of the pieces. Patton took another one of them and popped it into his mouth. Logan ate the last piece.

“Thanks,” Virgil said to Ms. Heart before placing his piece in his mouth.

Logan watched Virgil’s eyes light up a bit when the flavor registered. His posture didn’t completely relax, but he seemed at least a bit less like he was contemplating jumping through the window. His trust was almost worryingly easy to buy sometimes. All it took was a not poisoned peppermint.

Ms. Heart seemed pleased by his reaction. “I’m actually going to be making some new ones soon and I’m trying to get rid of these. Would you like to take another one for later?” she asked, holding out the tin.

He looked at it warily again, but he still stepped closer slowly and took another piece. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Ms. Heart said, eyes looking over him intensely. “You look like you could do to with a few more sweets every so often.”

Virgil tilted his head in that way he did when he was particularly perplexed.

Patton giggled a bit. “She means your skinny.”

“Oh,” Virgil said. “Logan already gave me a malnutrition potion for that.”

“Did he now?” she asked, her eyes flickering to Logan. Logan winced. He was definitely in trouble for not bringing him directly to her. He was sure he’d hear all about it as soon as she caught him without Virgil in the room.

She turned back to Virgil with a smile, and Logan imagined Virgil had no idea how dead Logan was. “Well, that’s a very good start, but if there was need for a nutrition potion, we should be careful to make sure you get enough calories and nutrients every day going forward.” She sat down at her desk. “Why don’t you and I talk for a bit about making sure you get some good food.”

He still looked cautious but was predictably enticed by the promise of food. He did not sit still, but he did put his hands on the back of one of the chairs and slightly lean on it. “Yes, ma’am,” he agreed.

“Okay,” she said. “Well, I’m going to have a few more specific questions, but let’s just start with what are your favorite foods?”

“I’ll eat anything,” Virgil replied immediately.

“He really likes chicken alfredo,” Patton contributed.

Virgil perked up at the name of the food. “I did like that,” he agreed.

“Alright,” Ms. Heart replied. That’s a start.

Chapter 28

Thomas did not have to be told that something had gotten Helen Heart in a tizzy. He could tell just by the amount of food she had sent up on his dinner tray. She always made and pushed more food when she was stressed, and he couldn’t help but chuckle when he found both a hearty serving of roast beef and a mini chicken pot pie on his plate along with three vegetable side dishes and a side of macaroni and cheese.

He could also guess what had happened to illicit such a response. Thomas had caught up to Jeffers Deknis in his garden and they’d spoken at length about Logan and Patton’s new friend.

There was no way that after said discussion, Jeff had not mentioned Virgil (and more importantly his friendship with Patton) to Helen during their daily gossip sessions. There was also no way that Helen had heard the words “child” and “too small” in a sentence and hadn’t flipped. From there the inevitable sequence of events was clear: Patton went home, Helen talked his ear off until he agreed to bring Virgil to meet her, Helen met him and immediately committed herself to making sure he ate three square meals a day as well as multiple snacks.

Thomas had sussed all of that out before the kitchen worker bringing him his dinner had mentioned what had happened that day.

That in mind, he decided to wait until after dinner should have been cleaned up before walking his own dinner leftovers down to the kitchens.

Thomas was unsurprised to see Jeff already in the kitchen. He was sat at a small table off to the side where kitchen workers usually took their breaks. The only person other than Jeff and Helen left in the kitchen was a dishwasher who was finishing up. Helen usually spent a couple of hours after dinner in her kitchen or her office organizing for the next day and in case anyone needed food on an off hour, and then there was a night cook who would take over so she could go back to her set of rooms.

Helen took the tray of leftovers from Thomas herself and shooed the dishwasher out of the way. “I’ll handle the rest myself,” she told the girl. “You can leave.”

She nodded and started to take her apron off. Helen dumped the tray on the counter without care and turned back around to usher Thomas into one of the kitchen chairs. Thomas went willingly and she turned to fill the tea kettle with water and set it on the stove.

“It take it she met Virgil,” Thomas said to Jeff.

“She’s adopted Virgil,” Jeff replied, taking a bite out of a cookie.

“And what of it?” she asked. “Someone obviously needs to feed the boy. Speaking of, you’re grounding your son by the way.”

Thomas took one of the cookies for himself. “Why am I grounding Logan?” he asked.

“He was worried enough about his health to make him a nutrition potion, but still did not bring him to me,” she harrumphed.

“I see,” Thomas replied.

“In Logan’s defense,” Jeff interrupted. “the boy seems rather timid. He may have worried about you scaring him off.”

Helen slapped him with a dishtowel.

“Actually,” Jeff continued. “From what I’ve gathered he didn’t have contact with anyone since the time I saw him a couple of weeks ago until now.”

“Any adults,” Thomas corrected with a frown. “I’m pretty sure he, Patton, and Logan must have been around each other considering how close they already seem to be.” He paused, “Logan implied he wasn’t particularly… comfortable around adults.”

“I did get that impression, yes,” Helen said, pouring the hot water from the kettle into a tea pot and carrying it and some cups over to the table.

“He was incredibly jumpy,” Jeff confirmed. “I imagine he does not have good experiences with many people, but he seems to have grown attached to Logan and Patton. He defers to them in most things and seemed a bit protective.

“Where did he come from?” Thomas asked.

“I’m not sure,” Jeff said. “I found him hiding in the garden shed a couple of weeks ago.”

“Did he sneak in?” Thomas asked.

“That’s what I would have thought,” Jeff replied, “but when I asked, he said he wasn’t trying to steal anything and that he was supposed to be in the castle. So, I’d assumed that meant he was the child of someone living in the caste.”

“But neither of us could find anyone who knew him,” Helen said. “Of course, we didn’t even know his name until now.” She seemed to decide the tea leaves had sat long enough because she started to pour them each a cup of tea.

Thomas took a sip. “Earl Grey,” he commented. “I guess I’m not sleeping much tonight.” It was her ‘planning tea.’

“We need a plan,” she said, “but we’re going to have to be gentle.”

“At least with Virgil,” Jeff said.

Thomas laughed lightly, “and what do you plan to do with the other two?”

“I have my ways.”

Helen rolled her eyes. “You say that,” she said, “but you’re too soft. The two of them learned to run circles around you and your powers years ago.”

“We should talk to them though,” Thomas said. “Separately from Virgil.”

“We should,” Helen agreed. “I already spoke to Patton a bit yesterday, but I will again. We should see if we can ask around and find out why he’s in the castle. We don’t even know how long he’s lived here. Or who brought him here.” The look on her face told Thomas she wanted to have a talk with his guardians whoever and wherever they were.

Helen took a drink of tea, it seemed to calm herself. “We need to make sure whatever has been happening to him is not happening in these walls,” she said.

Thomas had honestly… not thought about that. He’d assumed whatever made Virgil so skittish was in the past, but it was possible that it was ongoing. The thought made him sick.

“Perhaps you should try to talk to him, Thomas,” Helen suggested.

Thomas winced. “I am not sure that is a good idea...”

“Why not?”

“We don’t have the best track record… I don’t think me being around him would be a good idea.”

“Oh, please, Thomas,” Helen said disbelievingly.

“No, you don’t understand,” Thomas said. “He seems disproportionately afraid of me. I think it’s a mix of me being king and how we met.”

“How did you meet?” Helen asked.

“I… gave him a bit of a fright,” Thomas admitted. “Logan and Patton weren’t in the room and I didn’t know who he was. He… ended up under the bed. Then… the second time I saw him he accidently ran into me. He freaked out again.” The memory still made Thomas feel gross. It also made him think there was a lot more to his backstory than the three of them understood.

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“Perhaps Jeff can try to talk to him then,” Helen said. “It sounds like he was calmest around you. I’ll push Patton towards taking him to the garden more often. I bet fresh air would do him some good anyway.”

Jeff nodded. “I will try to talk to him a bit more.”

“Great,” Helen said, but Thomas already knew the conversation wasn’t over. “Now we need to talk about strategic events to throw over the next few months that Patton and Logan to invite Virgil to. We’ll start slow, but we need to make sure he feels welcome in the castle.”

Thomas met Jeff’s eyes. Yeah, it was going to be a long night.

Chapter 29

Virgil finished eating the breakfast Patton’s mom had sent for him. It had been going on a week since she’d made the menu for him. She sent up little cards with each meal and he was supposed to rate each thing she sent on a scale from 1-5. Logan would read it to him before he ate, and Virgil mark the little box on the card. Usually, he would put a 4 for everything (he had tried to do 5, but Logan had told him 5 was reserved for things like chicken alfredo). Three was for things that he was neutral on, 2 was for things he didn’t like but could tolerate, and 1 was for things he didn’t like. So far, the only 3 was the unseasoned porridge she’d sent one day.

“Finished?” Logan asked.

“Yeah,” Virgil said.

“What would you like to do today?” Logan asked. “Patton is busy until after lunch, and then we thought you might like to go back to the garden again. It’s supposed to drop in temperature over the next few days, so it will be the last good day for it.”

“Sounds good,” Virgil said. “I don’t care what we do today though.”

“Well, there are a few options,” Logan said.

“What do you want to do?” Virgil asked.

Logan made an expression, and Virgil titled his head. “I’m don’t have anything in particular I want to do,” he said.

“You’re lying,” Virgil said immediately.

“You would not be interested in the activity I wish to partake in,” Logan said.

Virgil squinted at him. “I’d be interested in laying on the ground and staring at the ceiling.”

Logan chuckled. “No, truly. The activity I would do if you were not present would involve reading.”

“You can read to me,” Virgil suggested.

“…In Sanskrit.”

Virgil frowned at him. “Isn’t that, like, some sort of dead language?”

“It is,” Logan said. “I taught myself to read it to read a specific book called the Pragilium Text. It’s an encoded book that leads to a magical location that I have been trying to decode for years.”

“That’s fine,” Virgil said. “You can do that.”

“It would be in the library,” Logan said.

“Okay.”

“But…” Logan said. “It would in no way be interesting to you.”

Virgil shrugged. “Like I said. I’m content to lie on the floor for a few hours.”

Logan frowned. “I can’t make you do that.”

“You wouldn’t be making me,” Virgil said. “I want to go. Maybe you can find me an easy book I could try to read?”

“Are you certain?” he asked.

Virgil nodded, decisively.

“Very well, get dressed and I will show you the library.”

Virgil stood to do so and a few minutes later, Logan was leading him out of the royal wing.

Both of the guards greeted him kindly, and Virgil hunched his shoulders in a bit, but said a soft “hi.”

The library didn’t end up being too far away. It was through the small dining hall and to the left where the staircase to the kitchen was to the right.

“This is not the main library,” Logan said. “It is just a smaller one. The royal librarian comes here only about once a week to organize. Some other castle residents might come in too, but it is usually mostly empty.” Virgil could tell just by listening for a few seconds that the place was likely empty (unless someone was lying in wait).

“I’ll look and see if there is something simple for you in case you’d like to read. You can explore a bit if you’d like,” Logan said.

Virgil nodded and stalked off into the shelves to secure the area. There were many books, not that he could quite read any of the spines. The bookcases were mostly cramped into the space. There was the open area where they’d come in with a few comfy chairs and Virgil found a desk near one of the windows. It had stacks of books including one pretty large and old one. He looked at it curiously.

Virgil heard Logan’s footsteps approach from down an aisle. “That’s the Pragilium text,” he said.

“It’s pretty,” Virgil said, looking at the design etched into the cover.

“Yes,” Logan agreed. He reached forward to touch it and opened it carefully. The print was small and didn’t look like the letters Logan had taught him so far. There was a small map on the side that Virgil could at least guess at the meaning of.

“You can read that?” Virgil asked.

“I can,” Logan said. “Very few people can though.”

“Wow, you’re really smart.”

“Thank you,” Logan said with a smile.

“Now,” Logan continued. “I found you a book. I apologize as its subject matter is for younger children, but it has many pictures that can help give you context when you don’t know something. You don’t have to read it if you do not wish to, especially as we haven’t gotten very far in our lessons, but I thought you might like the challenge.

He handed him the book and Virgil took it with a smile. “I’ll try to read it,” he said.

“Well, you have free reign of the library. Feel free to continue to explore and to interrupt me if you need to.”

Virgil nodded and took the book before deciding to finish his sweep of the library. It turned out that appearances were not deceiving, and the library truly was empty. Once he was certain about that, he looked around for a comfortable place to settle down and try to read the book Logan had handed him. He found a sturdy looking bookshelf near where Logan was reading at his desk. He scaled it quickly. It was a little bit dusty at the top, but it wasn’t a bad place. It was close to the ceiling and kept him hidden pretty well, but still gave him enough room to pop up onto his elbows. If he looked left, he could see Logan down bellow with his head in the book, but if he looked right, he could see the entrance to the library.

He pulled the book in front of him and looked at the cover. It was covered in drawings of different colored flowers. One simple white flower was in the center and there were three words on the cover. He squinted at it and silently tried to sound it out based on what Logan had taught him so far. He could guess that the larger word was ‘flowers’ based on context. So, he was pretty sure it read How Flowers Grow.

He flipped open the book. Logan was right, there were many hand drawn beautiful pictures. He could pretty much understand what was happening just from them even if he couldn’t read all of the words.

It was an interesting book even if he couldn’t read it and it was obviously made for small children. Judging by the pictures it seemed to be detailing how plants, or at least, flowers grew through some kid planting and caring for a flower over the course of some amount of time.

Virgil had, of course, known flowers grew from seeds, but it was interesting to see things about how the stem would pop out of the seed in the ground and things about the roots growing.

He more looked through the pictures than read it the first time but had flipped back to the front to try to read the words when he heard the library door open.

Virgil perked up in awareness, but then settled when he recognized Patton’s footsteps. Virgil tilted his head to watch as he walk directly to Logan’s hideaway.

“Hi,” he said, gaining Logan’s attention.

“Hello, Patton,” Logan replied. He glanced at the window and must have seen that time had passed because he closed his book and shuffled his papers.

“The guards said you came here,” Patton said, glancing around. “Where’s Virgil?”

Instead of letting Logan answer that question, Virgil pulled himself forward, with the book in one hand and slid off the bookshelf to land lightly on his feet next to Patton.

Patton screamed before slapping a hand over his mouth.

Logan had placed his hand over his heart. “Where on Earth did you come from?” he asked.

Virgil blinked at him and then pointed to the bookshelf he’d been on top of.

“How long were you up there?” Logan asked.

“Pretty much the whole time,” Virgil answered.

“I…” Logan said. “I didn’t even know.”

Virgil squinted at him. “You need to learn to look up.”

Patton giggled.

Virgil turned on him. “You need to learn to case the area.”

“Oh honey, your shirt is all covered in dust,” Patton said instead of responding to his very valid criticism. Virgil frowned. “Let’s get you changed and then go grab some lunch.”

“Lunch?” Virgil asked.

Patton chuckled and grabbed his hand. “Yes, sweetie, lunch. Then garden.”

“Fine,” Virgil said. “But you do need to learn to be more observant.

“Yes, yes, whatever you say,” Patton said.

Logan just rolled his eyes.

Chapter 30

After lunch, Patton and Logan took Virgil out into the garden to walk around. They let Virgil lead them around wherever he wanted to in the garden. A bunch more flowers had died since the last time they’d been out here, and Patton felt sad despite having never felt very sad about that sort of thing before. But, Virgil seemed to really like the flower he’d found last time, so Patton thought he was probably sad on the boy’s behalf.

Of course, Patton thought, perking up, eventually it would be spring, and Virgil could get to not only see flowers but see all of the flowers grow. Patton couldn’t wait to see him amongst the garden then.

Virgil took them wandering through the orchard for a while, but most of the trees had been stripped of their fruits. They ended up in the food garden after a bit, and Virgil finally seemed to decide on the direction instead of just ambling about.

A few seconds after Patton noticed Virgil seemingly decide on a destination, Patton noticed Mr. Deknis kneeling on the ground a few feet away. Had… had Virgil been looking for him? Patton wondered. That was adorable.

Mr. Deknis looked up as they approached and smiled at them.

“Hello, Mr. Deknis,” Patton said as they came closer.

“Hello you three,” Mr. Deknis said. “Getting into trouble?”

“No,” Virgil said, shaking his head.

Mr. Deknis gave him a flash of a smile. “I know, I’m joking,” he said. “Especially since there isn’t much left in my gardens for certain princes to destroy with experiments.”

“Oh, okay,” Virgil said. He tilted his head. “What are you doing?”

“I’m getting the last of the acorn squash out,” Mr. Deknis replied. “It’s the last crop to get finished. Good thing too, it’s supposed to start snowing soon.”

Virgil looked down curiously at the dark green squash.

“Would you like to help me pick a couple?” Mr. Deknis asked.

“Sure,” Virgil said, sounding interested. Mr. Deknis patted the ground beside him and Virgil knelt down to watch him.

“They’re not too difficult to harvest,” he said. “You just cut the fruit off the stem. You want to leave about a hand’s width of the stem left over which will help preserve moisture. The earlier harvests, I left in the field to cure in the sun for a couple weeks, but the frost’ll ruin them so we’ll take them inside the green house and let them sit in the sun for a bit there. We also want to keep the leaves. You’ll probably be eating those for dinner tonight since they have to be cooked up within about 24 hours after they’re picked. Patton’s mom makes a good side dish with them and she’ll be making some curry tomorrow, probably. Maybe some stew if there are some leftover.”

“Put the squash in this wheelbarrow and the leaves into this pile, okay?” Virgil nodded and Mr. Deknis handed him the extra pair of gloves and shears he carried with him in case one set broke. “These might be a bit big on your, but they should work for now.”

Mr. Deknis looked up at Patton and Logan. “Would the two of you like to help?” he asked. “I can get some more equipment.”

“I can help out if you want, but you don’t need to stop and get more equipment just for me,” Patton said.

“The same for me,” Logan said.

“Well, if you’d like to help still, you can sort the leave. Give your mother a head start.”

“Sure,” Patton said. He and Logan went to do that while Mr. Deknis and Virgil worked on cutting the squashes from the vine.

“What do you do during the winter?” Virgil asked curiously. “If this is your last crop.”

“Well, at the beginning, I mostly will be working on making sure things are stored correctly along with some of the kitchen staff. There’s some drying to do and some canning. After that’s done, I’ll spend some time organizing and planning. Then, before the spring comes, I’ll start preparing seedlings in the green house.”

“Seedlings?” he asked.

“I let seeds start to grow in the greenhouse that I replant once it gets warm enough.”

“Why don’t you just plant them where they’re going?”

“I do for some,” he said, “but giving some a head start is good for them.”

Patton watched as Virgil continued to ask questions about gardening while working on harvesting the squash. Mr. Deknis continued to answer them in a calm, soft tone that Patton didn’t think he’d ever heard from the often gruff man before.

Patton wasn’t surprised when, after finishing getting most of the squash off of the vine, Mr. Deknis asked if Virgil wanted to help him with canning some pears in a couple of days. Virgil immediately looked over at Logan and Patton as though asking permission.

“Say yes if you want to Virgil,” Logan said.

“Yes,” Virgil said as soon as he was given permission. Mr. Deknis smiled at him softly and started loading the last of the squash into the wheelbarrow. Patton offered to run the squash leaves to the kitchen while Logan and Virgil helped Mr. Deknis take the actual squash to the green house.

He dropped the leaves off to a kitchen worker since Mama was busy and headed back out to the garden. By the time he returned, Logan was already back from the green house and sitting by one of the more decorative trees near the castle.

“He’s exploring,” Logan said, nodding at the large patch of bushes.

Patton chuckled. “I see.” He sat next to Logan. Every so often he’d hear the bushes rustle, but he couldn’t tell if it was actually Virgil or an animal.

“He’s adorable,” Patton commented, keeping an ear out.

Logan hummed.

“I’m glad we kept him.”

“He isn’t a pet, Patton.”

Patton rolled his eyes. “I know, but I’m still glad. I’m glad he’s making friends with Mr. Deknis. Once he knows how to read better, we should get him a book about gardening. He seems interested.”

Logan nodded. “Having a hobby would be good for him. Clearly he has a fascination with the garden.” He nodded to the blur of dark hair that could be seen through the bushes. It seemed Virgil had stopped his exploration and was now laying down in the bushes a few feet away.

“I’m going to go see what he’s doing,” Patton said. “I’ll be right back.”

Logan nodded and Patton got to his feet. The bushes were part of a small maze that was filled with flowers during the spring and summer months but were mostly just green and brown bushes for now. Despite the fact that Patton had been able to see him only a few feet away, it took him a while to wind through the path to where he was. When he finally turned the last corner and he came into view, Patton gasped softly.

“Ghost kitty!” he said, making sure to make his voice as quiet as possible.

Despite how soft he made his voice, two pairs of eyes shot over to him. The completely black kitten was perched on Virgil’s lap like she belonged there. Ghost Kitty hissed slightly, but Virgil reached forward to pet her head gently.

“This is Ghost Kitty?” Virgil asked. “I thought you said she was hard to pet.”

“She is,” Patton said. He lowered himself onto the ground from a few feet away from them. “How did you get her to come to you?”

Virgil glanced down at the cat and shrugged, scratching one of her ears. “She just came over to me and let me pet her.”

“Wow,” Patton said softly. He looked at the cat. “Could I pet you sweetie?” he asked, holding out a hand in her direction. She hissed again.

Virgil frowned down at her. “It’s Patton,” he said as though he expected to understand his words and the exasperation in the tone he said them in.

He pet the cat’s head to soothe her and then reached over to grab Patton’s hand. He pulled and Patton carefully leaned a bit closer until his hand was within sniffing distance. Ghost Kitty sniffed his fingers contemplatively and then bumped her head against it. He barely restrained a squeal, knowing that probably wouldn’t be taken well.

He carefully turned his hand over so he could stroke the top of her head. He gently scratched her ear, not daring to go for under her chin yet since she didn’t know him well. “Hi,” he said softly. After a moment, she started to purr softly. Virgil reached over and scratched under her chin and she purred louder. “Oh, you’re a good girl,” Patton breathed, letting a hand trail gently down her back once and then again. Patton settled himself carefully into a seating position continuing to pet her. After a few more moments of soft petting, she hesitantly stepped her front paws onto Patton’s thigh so she was sitting in both of their laps. Patton laughed softly. “Hi sweetie.” He glanced over at Virgil who had a wide smile on his face as he pet the cat. This. This was adorable. They continued to pet the cat for a very long time.

Chapter 31

Logan waited for a while after Patton left to check on Virgil, but the two never resurfaced. It was odd, Patton would usually remember to come back and get Logan or at least tell them where they were. With a sigh, Logan climbed to his feet to go find them. It took him a while to weave his way through the maze of bushes to them especially because they were suspiciously quiet (Well, suspicious for Patton. Virgil was often unnervingly quiet when alone.) Luckily, he knew the bushes enough after all of these years not to get lost and managed to find the two after a few minutes.

“Ah,” he said, immediately identifying the reason for Patton disappearing.

“Logan!” Patton said, his voice excited, but also quieter than normal. “We found a kitty!”

“I can see that,” Logan responded, taking a step closer. The cat hissed at him in response. The hissing was so intense and wild that he’d suspect the thing was feral if it wasn’t happily on Virgil’s lap having had it’s head in Patton’s lap before Logan had approached.

“No,” Virgil told the animal as though it could understand words. “That’s Logan. Be nice.”

The cat still glared at him and swished it’s tail back and forth threateningly. Virgil pet the top of it’s head and it broke eye contact with Logan to purr.

Patton seemed delighted by the purring, reaching to stroke under the thing’s chin carefully. “We should give her a name!” Patton said.

Virgil frowned. “I thought her name was Ghost Kitty.”

“That is ‘Ghost Kitty’?” Logan asked skeptically. From what Patton had said about that cat, it was terrified of people and no one could ever get near it, even him. Now it was in Virgil’s lap?

“But that was a temporary name,” Patton said, “for before we officially met her. Now we have to give her a real name.”

“Do not give it a name,” Logan said. “You will get attached.”

“How do you name a cat?” Virgil asked.

“Do not name it,” Logan said.

“You give them names based on their personalities, how they look, or even just because it’s a cute name,” Patton explained. “Like, remember Mittens? I named her Mittens because she has white fur and black paws!”

Virgil looked at the cat. “She’s completely black,” he said.

Patton hummed. “So, we could give her a name based on that like Midnight or Shadow.”

“Those are fine,” Virgil said.

“No, no,” Patton said. “I’m just giving you examples. You get to name her yourself.”

“This is a bad idea,” Logan said.

“Just throw out some names,” Patton said. “Anything you can think of.”

“Uh,” Virgil said. “Knife.”

“…Just Knife?” Patton asked.

“Nightmare.” Virgil seemed to think about it. “No, that’s mean.”

“How about things you like?” Patton suggested.

“Alfredo?”

Oh no, Logan thought, he was worse than Patton at cat naming.

“Good start,” Patton said. “Logan, do you have any suggestions.”

“Cat,” Logan said.

“Real suggestions,” Patton scolded.

Logan sighed and thought for a moment. “Aphrodite.”

“Catphrodite!”

Logan glared at him. “Helena.”

“Helenpaw.”

“Claudia.”

“Clawdia.”

“Persephone.”

Patton smiled at him, cheerfully.

“…Damnit!”

Patton turned to Virgil again. “Like that! They don’t even have to be serious. Like, uh, you could name her Madam Fluffywuffykins the Great!”

“Do not name her that,” Logan said, scrunching up his nose.

Logan sat on the ground, the cat eyeing him, but no longer hissing. Logan gently guided them towards more sensible names despite Patton trying his hardest to drag them into stupidity.

Virgil still didn’t quite get it. He mostly tried to name it after foodstuff, and often not even appropriate foodstuff such as “Corn” and “Acorn Squash” and “Sandwich” and occasionally would drop in semi violent ones such as “Razor,” “Nightshade” and “Void.” Patton suggested names like “Fluffers,” “Bobette” and “Darling” as well as some that were puns. Logan tried to direct them towards more sensible ones like “Salem” and even went so low as to suggest the contrary “Snowball.”

It quickly seemed to become less about actually naming the cat and more of a game. Patton had taught Virgil about playing with cats and had even gotten out a ball of yarn he cared around for his crafts. Both Virgil and the cat seemed to find endless entertainment with that. Logan hoped Patton had another ball of yarn that color because, he was never going to get that ball back.

The barrage of names fizzled out into naming things around them like “Leaf” and “Bush” until they stopped suggesting names altogether. Patton and Logan sat back and watched Virgil play with the cat.

Logan watched as they stopped playing suddenly and Virgil and the cat squinted at each other. “Marisol,” Virgil said, pulling the name out of nowhere. “That’s her name.” He said it with a certainty that was surprising considering how he’d treated the naming process with confusion and caution earlier. If Logan did not know better, his tone of voice would indicate that the cat, or Marisol he guessed, had gotten bored of them coming up with stupid names and decided to tell him her actual name herself.

The cat made a sound and batted at Virgil’s face without claws to grab back his attention.

He turned back to it and bopped its face with a finger in kind. It attacked his finger, but in a clearly playful matter as it still did not extend it’s claws and its teeth did not draw blood.

“That’s a great name, Virgil,” Patton said.

“Much more pleasant than any that Patton suggested all afternoon,” Logan said. He received an elbow to the side for his quip.

“A pretty name for a pretty kitty,” Patton said, scooting over to where Virgil was sat and attempting to pet Marisol’s head. Marisol, however, was too keyed up and batted at the hand.

“I love you too!” Patton said.

Logan rolled his eyes, but he had long since resigned himself to watching the two of them play with and coo over the cat for the rest of the day.

Eventually, though, it started to get darker. Even after Logan pointed this out, it still took over an hour for them to relent and leave the bush maze to go to the door. The problem was of course, that the cat had managed to grow very attached to Virgil in the last few hours and she followed them all the way to the door with manipulatively heart breaking mews.

“You’ve got to stay out here,” Virgil said, when they got to the castle door. He pet her ear softly and she shoved her head into his hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t have anywhere to put you.” He sounded horribly sad about that fact and Logan felt himself shift uncomfortably. “I basically live in a closet and Logan doesn’t like cats in his room anyway.”

Logan immediately felt unreasonably guilty, probably more so because Logan did not think Virgil was trying to make him feel guilty. “…Bring the dammed thing inside.”

Virgil blinked up at him. “What?”

“It will get cold soon anyway,” Logan said.

He frowned at Logan from where he was crouched. “But you don’t like fur in your room…”

“I will have to find a potion that works,” he said with a sigh, “and we’ll have to say it’s mine to the guards and Father since it will be staying in my room, but it is yours in every other way. That means you are going to feed it, clean it, and clean up after it.”

Virgil nodded immediately and swooped Marisol up in his arms. The cat went without complaint. “Thank you!” he said. “I love her.”

“I know you do,” Logan said, already regretting it already. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to even consider recanting the offer considering how happy Virgil seemed to be. They had a cat now, he guessed.

Chapter 32

“What are you doing?” Helen asked a few minutes after her son walked into the kitchen and started looking around as though he were trying to find something. It was a few hours into the afternoon, and she and a few workers were already prepping for dinner.

“Uh,” Patton said. “Have you seen Virgil?”

“No,” Helen said. “Why.”

“Er… Logan and I sorta, lost him,” Patton said. He was wringing his hands anxiously. Helen put down the knife in her hand.

“What do you mean you lost him?” she asked.

“Well, see, we were trying to teach him how to play hide and seek, um, but then we didn’t think to tell him that he eventually had to come out if we didn’t find him, and now we haven’t seen him since breakfast.”

“He didn’t know what tag is?” she asked. That was just one more thing to add to the list of why Helen worried about Virgil and where he came from. Every morsel of information she’d managed to wring from Patton despite his evasions made her lists of concerns grow larger, even little things like him not knowing about simple childhood games. Actually, thinking of concerning things having to do with Virgil. “Wait, so he hasn’t eaten lunch.”

“Um, we don’t know that,” Patton’s mouth said while his eyes said ‘no.’

“He needs to be on a consistent diet, especially when he’s still taking the malnutrition potion,” she scolded.

“I know, Mama, I know,” Patton said. “I’m trying to find him. I’d kinda hoped he’d gotten hungry and snuck down here. He probably wouldn’t want to risk being caught stealing food though.”

Helen grimaced. Yet another concerning thing.

“Wait! I have an idea, I’ll be right back.” Patton turned and ran out of the room. Helen frowned at the space he’d been and finished chopping the carrot on the cutting board in front of her. If it had been any other person in the castle missing, Helen wouldn’t have worried, but she had literally never seen Virgil without Patton and/or Logan by his side. Even when he’d gone to help Jeff can some fruit, Logan had reportedly hung around to read a book.

Considering that Logan had never exactly been clingy even with Patton, she imagined that either Virgil asked, or Logan thought he should stay with him for his comfort. So, she was surprised that he was apparently hidden away somewhere in the castle where neither of the other kids could find him.

Still thinking about this, she walked over to the entrance to the cellar below the kitchen where they stored most of the vegetables, planning to grab some more carrots. She was confused for a moment when she heard movement from deeper in the pantry. She reached over and touched the panel near the door that controlled the magic lights.

The newly illuminated figure startled as the lights came on, whipping around to stare at her with wide eyes.

“Virgil?” she asked.

“Sorry,” he said immediately, taking a step back.

“It’s fine,” she said immediately, “but what are you doing here?”

He considered her for a long moment, but apparently, she passed some sort of mental test, because he relaxed, at least as much as he’d ever relaxed in her presence. “Where are we?” he asked.

Her brow knit together. “The cellar under the kitchen,” she said, “You don’t know that?”

He shook his head.

“The only entrance is from the kitchen.” Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen him go through the kitchen at any point.

“No, it’s not,” Virgil said. “There’s a tunnel.”

“A-a tunnel?” she asked. Actually, taking a closer look at him, he seemed a bit grimy. He had dust all over his front and dirt on his nose. She thought he might even have a couple of cobwebs in his hair.

“Yep,” he said.

“Where’s the tunnel?” she asked.

“It’s right over here,” he said. He took a couple of steps and pointed to the ground. There was an open square hole there that clearly had been made a long time ago but which she had never noticed in all of her time working here.

“How did you find this?” she asked.

“We were playing hide and seek,” Virgil explained. “Logan said I could hide anywhere inside the castle. I hid on top of a dresser upstairs in some unused sitting room. There was a hole in the wall above it, so I climbed into it. Then, I crawled a little bit and it let out into a hidden passage in the walls. I wandered around in it until I found another hole in one of the walls. I thought it was a way out, so I squeezed into it, but it took me to a different hallway where I found an old room. There was a different hole in that room that had probably been covered by something because it was in the floor but whatever it was had rotted away. I crawled though it into a tunnel and came out here.”

She couldn’t help but laugh a bit at his explanation. “Well, it sounds like you went on an adventure,” she said, “but Patton and Logan have been trying to find you. You missed lunch.”

He tilted his head at her. “I know. I was supposed to hide.”

“Yes,” she explained, “but you are supposed to come out at some point if they can’t find you for things like food.”

“Oh,” he said.

“They probably should have explained,” she said. “For now, why don’t we get you something to eat? You must be hungry.”

Virgil frowned. “But I missed lunch.”

“You can still eat even though it’s not in normal hours,” she said. “You could even if you had made it to lunch.”

“Really?” he asked, he looked tragically confused by this offer.

“Of course, sweetie,” she said. “In fact, I insist you get something good to eat right now. How about I made you a grilled ham and cheese sandwich? Maybe some cookies too!”

Virgil titled his head. “You are Patton’s mother,” he stated.

Helen laughed softly. “He gets its all from me,” she said. “We should probably go find him and tell him you’re okay. He was worried.”

“I didn’t mean to worry him,” Virgil said with a frown.

“I know,” Helen said. “It’s okay. He’ll probably laugh when he figures out where you’ve been, and Logan will interrogate you all about the secret passageways.” He seemed happy about the prospect of seeing his friends. “Come on, let’s go upstairs for a bit,” she said.

#proofread stories #not writing #not pieces fic

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msjr0119 · 5 years ago

Text

One Temptation

Part 10

*This series is based on The Royal Romance characters who belong to Pixelberry - AU Plot switch*

Riley Brooks moves back to New York after leaving five years prior- struggling to get by in life she wanted to go home. After getting mugged, a woman and man come to her rescue and offer her a job at their strip club. A rich business man Liam Rhys is forced to visit the club as part of his bachelor party. What will happen that night?

Tags-if you want to be removed from the list, let me know 😊: @pedudley @kacie-0156 @loveellamae @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bbrandy2002 @butindeed @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @drxkewalker @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @kozabaji @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs @whenyourheartskipsabeat @jovialyouthmusic @nz1091 @yukinagato2012 @seriouslybadchoices @rainbowsinthestorm @cordonianroyalty @dcbbw @qammh-blog @jared2612 @princess-geek @desireepow-1986 @indiacater

A/N: This part is smaller than most, the next part will be posted once I’ve finished work or tomorrow.

Warnings: Swearing, abuse.

*****

I miss you. X

Hey, are you okay? I haven’t heard from you in a few days. X

Ri, I love you. Please text back. I just want to know that you are okay. X

Can I come and see you? X

Riley sighed as she re read all the messages that she had received from, messages that she hadn’t responded to as if they didn’t exist. It had been a few weeks since she had seen him in the hotel room. Waking up the following morning, she snuck out of the room. Regretting letting her feelings get the best of her- she knew it was best to just leave without saying a word. Maybe in time, they could gradually speak- when she was sober.

“I’m going to have to get you a bucket, are you coming down with something?” Gill asked as she walked over to Riley, noticing that she was pale, as she sipped the water behind the bar and was immediately sick.

“I don’t know? It must be that seafood that we ate last night. I’ve had an upset stomach since this morning...”

“Just stay behind the bar tonight, I’ll get you a bucket in case you can’t make it to the toilet. If you need time off, just go home.”

Staying behind the bar, she was hoping that this shift would go quickly. The usual punters attempted flirting with as they always did- as much as she tried, she tried to flirt back. But the smell of alcohol was making her feel instantly ill. Bending down, she discreetly puked up in the bucket on the floor.

“Hello, can I have a scotch please.”

“I’ll be one minute...” Wiping her mouth, she placed some gum in her mouth as she slowly stood up.

“Bertrand?”

“Hello, stranger.” Wiping his finger along the bar, he looked disgusted viewing all the dust and the sticky residue stuck on his finger like super glue. He was shocked to see her behind the bar, when she first arrived back in New York City- he was horrified when Maxwell blurted out that she was a stripper.

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s a free country.. I’m just checking that you are okay. You don’t look okay- you look as white as a sheet. You haven’t spoken to anyone - we were all concerned about you.”

“I’m fine, shouldn’t you be with Savannah? Congratulations by the way, how is the little bundle of joy?” Providing him with the drink, she explained that it was on the house to congratulate him on becoming a father- as well as ‘wetting the baby’s head’. She knew that this day was coming, but it still hurt knowing the day that their baby arrived could have been the day that she was holding her own bundle of joy.

“He’s amazing. We are having a get together tomorrow night, you should come and meet Bartie.”

“I might do, it depends if I can get time off work or not.” He’s going to be there. Covering her mouth, that all familiar taste made its way back in to her mouth.

“Are you pregnant?”

“No, don’t be fucking stupid...” fuck. I could be. Horror was soon written all over her face, of course Bertrand would assume this- Savannah was pregnant and had morning sickness, so he was now an expert knowing the symptoms.

“I ate seafood last night, I don’t think it’s agreed with my stomach...”

“Or maybe that little rendezvous you had in Times Square has had some consequences...” Perking his eyebrows up, he knew she was in denial- if she was indeed pregnant, he knew that she wouldn’t be alone- she would have support from everyone.

“How do you know about that?” Shaking his head, everyone knew. Due to the man explaining what had happened and him being concerned as she ran off and had ignored him ever since.

“He’s worried about you, he asked if anyone had spoken to you. What is it with you and hotel rooms?” He laughed attempting to make the situation a joke rather than it being a serious matter.

“You know me B. Whenever Liam had conferences with his father, I’d stay in the hotel room with him. Leo, in Florida- when he found me. Maxwell when we all got drunk in Vegas. And Drake, the hotel before we arrived at the ranch the following day..”

“Well we are meeting tomorrow at the Hilton, midtown. Who’s next on your hotel fuck list? You could use tomorrow as an opportunity.” See her frown at him, he laughed. “I’m joking! Thank you for the drink, Ri. I hope you can attend.”

*****

The sickness had deteriorated the day after, feeling relieved she was sure it was due to the food. Getting ready to go to hotel, she was a bag of nerves. Deep down she didn’t want to go- however as Bertrand said they were practically family years ago.

Arriving at the Hilton, she was greeting by a waiter who gave her a champagne flute. Gulping it in one, it would give her dutch courage that she most likely would need to survive the whole event. Scrutinising the room, she saw everyone- as well as Drake’s family. Fuck, I forgot about them. Just breathe, Riley. Bertrand noticed her stood vacant at the threshold. Carrying Bartie over towards her, she placed a fake smile onto her face.

“Bartie, this is Auntie Riley...” Riley placed her finger into the newborns open hand- his tiny fingers wrapped around her immediately with a tight grip.

“Hey, gorgeous... aw Bertrand he’s adorable.”

“Do you want to hold him?” Riley nodded, holding the newborn- she was in love immediately. Bartie began to panic, possibly sensing that his mother and father wasn’t present and that he was in a strangers arms. Natural instinct made her coo at Bartie, before singing him a lullaby. Whilst singing- she placed the baby's head in the crook of one arm and wrapped the other arm around him- she was scared of dropping or breaking him.

“You’re a natural...are you still up for those babysitting duties?” He said with an encouraging tone of voice. Looking up at him, she smiled softly.

“Of course I’ll babysit him. No B, I’m not a natural- I’m a woman. He probably just thinks that my breasts are Savannah’s. Although if you carry on drinking beer, you could grow some man boobs...”

“I’d usually be offended with your sarcasm, but it’s good to see you smile.”

“He’s so gorgeous isn’t he? Hello, Riley.” Shifting her gaze from Bartie, she looked up at the woman. The woman who could win so many oscars with her fake attitude.

“Hello, Mrs Walker. Erm - Bertrand, I think he’s hungry- he’s getting far too close to my breasts..” Bertrand bend down to collect his son, he knew that this was probably just an excuse to remove herself from Bianca’s presence.

“Can you stop following me please...”

“I just want to say sorry for everything I did to you in Texas. Bertrand has explained about your true personality and you sound like a really nice person. I feel awful for the way we treat you...”

“I loved your son, I just wanted to make a good impression. At the time, I’d actually given up work. Who told you that I was a prostitute? That question has been lingering in my mind this whole time...”

“Liam Rhys...” Of course, it was him. That slimy bastard. “Did he give you that money?”

“No, it was from Kiara’s father.” Sighing, she really didn’t want that name to be mentioned, it was just a reminder of more heartache that she had received.

“Thank you. See you around.”

“Riley, wait!” Rolling her eyes back, she couldn’t be bothered with anymore of Bianca’s games. Not quite believing her new sincere attitude, she wanted to keep a distance- a long distance away from the woman.

“I’m so sorry about the baby...” holding her tears back, she began to struggle concealing the emotions. “You are a natural as Bertrand said, I do apologise again.”

“I’d have had our baby by now, imagine if I did. You hated me before you even got to know me. What would you have been like with your grandchild? Ignored it because you had a vendetta against its mother? Please, don’t try and talk to me again Mrs Walker...”

****

Seeing him smirking and laughing with people, the tears that she held back were now non existent. Instead anger built up throughout her body. Just the sight of him made her feel physically sick, him acting as if he had done nothing wrong. Storming through the crowd towards him, his eyes widened seeing her face like thunder.

“Liam! A word now!”

“Riley, it’s nice to see you...” swinging her fist back- this had become her new hobby especially with Liam. The scotch that he was holding was soon all over the floor- as the glass shattered the room went mute.

“How could you do that to me?” The tears that she had held in soon resurfaced and fell down her face, as her chin began to tremble she was unable to prevent all of the emotions bursting out.

“Do what?” Coming closer towards her, he wiped the wetness that was smudging her make up- not that she cared in the slightest.

“I dropped the charges, you avoided punishments because of my stupid goddamn heart. I went for lunch with you. I thought we had closure. Then I find out that you was the reason behind the Walkers hating me!”

“You went for lunch with him?” Leo walked over with Maxwell and Drake, concerned overhearing the shouting. “What have you done now?”

“He told Drake’s family that I was a fucking goddamn prostitute..”

“Ri, that was before I saw you in Starbucks and we went for lunch. I felt awful for doing that, but he is engaged anyway... we put all that behind us. We had closure...” Smirking at Drake, Riley was too emotional to realise this- Liam knew it would get under his skin that he went for lunch with her. Hoping that this little ‘confession’ would fill Drake with jealousy and rage.

“I am not fucking engaged!”

“Does it fucking matter who’s engaged or not? Does it matter what I fucking do for a living? Why can’t you all just let me live my life? I was thinking about your daughter in all of this Liam, and all you do is fucking screw me over.. continue to fucking break my heart...”

“I’m sorry. I am grateful for you thinking about Alice. Have you made a decision about the offer that I offered you all those weeks ago in Times Square?”

“Go to hell, Liam.”

*****

Maxwell followed Riley, out of all the friends he believed that he was the closest to her- the one who’s daft antics would make her smile instantly.

“Are you okay?” Knowing this was an idiotic question to ask, he didn’t know why he asked her- grabbing the ice out of his cocktail, he rubbed it against swollen hand.

“Yeah.. my hands killing though...”

“You really should quit the bar work and become a professional boxer.” Max pretended to throw some punches towards her.

“Me the professional boxer and you the professional dancer. You totally showed off in front of all those dancers in Times Square.” Doing a re-enactment Of his dance moves from that night, she threw her back laughing.

“Of course I would, they were all amateurs... when Maxwell Beaumont is around no one has a chance... so what do you think about Bartie? Is he a Beaumont or a Walker?”

“Definitely a Walker looks wise, but that can change. Hopefully he takes after his uncle’s rather than his serious father.” Impersonating Bertrand, Maxwell nearly fell over laughing. Pulling her into a hug, he held her tightly- he had missed her.

“What are you laughing about?” Leo asked, as he is put his arms around Riley’s waist and kissed her on the cheek.

“Ask Riley to show you her impression of Bertrand... I’m going to steal a cuddle from my nephew- I need to win the best uncle award.”

“How are you? I’ve missed you.”

“I’m fine, I’ve missed you too. How are you?”

“I’m good. It’s good to see you. Even when you are acting like the hulk...”

“He deserves it... what is he even doing here?”

“He paid for the venue, as usual. But I had my little input...”

“The flower arrangements?”

“How did you guess?”

“Well when you bought me flowers, they were beautiful.”

“I should become a florist? A beautiful bouquet for a beautiful girl. You deserve it. Love ya Ri.”

“Charmer... love ya too.”

****

Leo had left her alone, walking towards the bar, she ordered a drink- staring vacantly into it, she wasn’t sure why she was even here still. Drowning her sorrows, she felt like she was back at the Crowne plaza- the drinks were disappearing far too quickly.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“I’m sorry about what Liam did, as well as my family...”

“Don’t be. Congratulations on becoming a uncle.” Ordering him a drink, their hands touched as they both went to pay the bar man- the warmth of the touch lingered around their bodies. Quickly creating a distance again, Drake was desperate to pull her into his arms- but decided against it, especially with the mood she was in.

“Thanks. He’s amazing. I can’t wait to teach him a few things. I saw you holding him before, you’re a natural.” That could have been us, you holding our baby.

“I’ve already been told.” That could have been us. You talking about teaching our son or daughter about things.

“Don’t be drinking me under the table again, you know how one drink turns into two then into three before you know it. You don’t want a stinking hangover.”

“You know I can handle my hangovers. You don’t need to worry about my head.”

“I worry about you. I care about you. I love you.” Opening her mouth, she wanted to talk to Drake- civilly, but didn’t know where to start.

“Come on you two, B and Savannah are about to make an announcement...” Maxwell dragged the two of them towards the mini stage. Riley could feel Drakes eyes on her more than the star of the show, his own nephew.

“Riley, before the speech begins I want a private word with you. Savannah will talk and talk - so quick, follow me.” Following Bertrand, He led her to the bathroom- shutting the door, she was confused by his actions- until realisation sunk in as he pulled the object out of his pocket.

“Here, I think you should take this.”

“I’m not pregnant B. It was the seafood.”

“You looked like shit last night. Please.” Taking the test, she knew it would shut him up. Not knowing why he was insisting that she took a test. Peeing on the stick, she hid it in her bag wrapped around some tissue. Re-entering the room, Savannah gestured for Bertrand to join her on stage.

“Sorry for arriving late, I apologise if I repeat anything that has already been said. I’d like to thank you all for coming here today, our friends and family- we appreciate all the support....” the alarm went off on Riley’s phone, panicking that she was disturbing the speech- her hand was shaking as she tried to cancel it. Bertrand looked at her, knowing what the alarm was. Riley swiftly removed herself from the crowd, turning her back- she looked at the result. Covering her mouth, she wished that she had kept her legs closed- turning around she couldn’t look at the father instead she just nodded towards Bertrand hoping that he would understand the gesture. Clearing his throat, he quickly finished off his disastrous speech, knowing that she needed his support especially due to him forcing it upon her.

“Anyway, thank you for all the gifts. Thank you. Thanks...” Running off stage he followed Riley who was lingering at the door- still in shock. Still not knowing how to handle the situation.

“Was I correct?”

“I need to go. I didn’t get Bartie a present I wasn’t sure what he needed. Here, just take this money and get whatever you need. Thank you for inviting me.”

Bertrand, I need your assistance. Savannah shouted attempting to gain his attention- realising that he wasn’t aware that everyone was overhearing his conversation with Riley through the microphone.

I’ll only be a second Savannah, darling.

“Riley!”

“What?”

“Tell me... I am always here for you... you are like my little sister.” Passing him the test, she didn’t care if he was touching something that had her urine smeared all over it.

“I’m pregnant. Happy?” Savannah’s eyes widened, as everyone else’s did as they all turned to face the people who were oblivious that their conversation wasn’t private and was in fact public.

“Darling... you left the microphone on. We heard everything...”

“Bertrand! You fucking dipshit....” still in shock with the result - possibly denial, she just wanted leave. This whole event had been a disaster from her point of view. As the father walked over to her, along with the others- she looked at each of the men. Fuck. This is not happening. He will want to keep the baby. Can I trust him?

“Is the baby mine? Is Alice having a sibling?”

#trr #trr fanfic #trr au one temptation #riley brooks #liam rhys #drake walker #leo rhys #maxwell beaumont #riley x drake #riley x liam #riley x leo #riley x maxwell #bertrand beaumont #savannah walker #bianca walker

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shieldherostuffs · 3 years ago

Text

So, Idea written (also very much inspired by the tags of the original post!). I also wrote a whole Group Chat in Tumblr Format just because. Note after writing a lot of it: This turned into half-chat-fic-half-actual-writing. This also turned out Much Longer than originally planned and anticipated.

I just have this idea of Naofumi having this multidimensional-house, because since he was born, he's had the power to travel between worlds and dimensions at will (after he learned how).

While world traveling, he ended up becoming a parental figure to multiple people and becoming attached to them.

And, because he knows damn well that all of them have some mental problems (mainly trauma or incredibly low self-worth), he decided to create a sort of sanctuary where they could come to take a break from their worlds and just relax (and probably annoy each other).

What he did to make it happen may or may not have been illegal in that world, but he rented a massive plot of land for a day, and, using his powers, created his own little dimension out of the plot, removing it from that world, and started collecting materials and learning how to build, garden, and everything needed to make a nice place to stay.

And, because he could freely decide anything within the domain of his own created pocket dimensions, he sped up time, wanting to build the place himself, for the principle.

When he was finished, he had a large two-story house, with dimensional rooms for more space inside, and a tower-like library on one end. This, and the front yard, driveway, and garage, took up about the first third of the land. The next third was then converted into a beautiful and flourishing garden, and the last was left for wildlife and forests.

He may also have messed around a bit with the fabric of time and space by creating a connection through his dimension, letting all the kids use the internet or reach out to him in any way.

Fandoms included:

Rising of the Shield Hero (Obviously)

Heaven Official's Blessing

Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation

Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint

Trash of the Count's Family

SSS-Class Suicide Hunter

Solo Leveling

When Naofumi had been summoned to another world, in his own body, to be the Shield Hero of that world, he'd been confused and annoyed.

Why, in the ever-loving-fuck, did he have to get summoned? What spirit, god, constellation, ghost, or otherworldly being through this would be funny?

He's got kids (all of them adults) to get back to and stop from causing too much chaos. Half of them are necromancers in their own ways, four of them have died multiple times, one got isekai'd, and they've all got problems.

Seriously, if he doesn't get back soon they're going to start experimenting with raising the dead in his backyard again!

So no, he does not have the time to play Hero on another world he's never been to before, when he's got multiple Self-Sacfrificial Idiots back home.

But, alas, the Shield some-fucking-how restricted his dimensional abilities, chaining him to this world until he's able to get back.

But, because of the Kids, he's now much more prepared than usual. He knows more about systems and different ones. At least it doesn't sound like there are Scenarios and Constellations in this world. Yet.

In the evening, after getting everything explained, (and getting ignored by the King) Naofumi finally checks his phone, which he'd had on mute since he decided to read that damned book-

And holy shit, he was bombarded by messages both from the kids individually and from their big group chat.

————

Slacker-for-life: Anyone know where Naofumi went? (2:16 PM)

Reading-TWS-for-the-nth-time: Why? (2:21 PM)

Slacker-for-life: Well he said he'd give me a new phone after reading a book in the Pavillion, but it's been hours and I looked everywhere for him. I did find the book though. (2:23 PM)

Sewersliding 4000 times🔪: Maybe he went shopping again? (2:23 PM)

My Liege: He always leaves a note of some sort when he leaves though (2:24 PM) My Liege: Wait who gave Beru my phone and let him change my name (2:24 PM)

'My Liege' had changed their nickname to 'Shadow Monarch'

Slacker-for-life: @/SimpKing @/Lan-Er-Furen either of you two know where Naofumi is? (2:26 PM)

Lan-Er-Furen: Nope! I've been with my darling Lan Zhan and my adorable little radishes all day! (✿◡‿◡) (2:31 PM) Lan-Er-Furen: o(〃＾▽＾〃)o (2:31 PM)

SimpKing: I have not seen him. (2:40 PM) SimpKing: Also, stop changing my name. (2:41 PM)

'Sewersliding 4000 times' has changed user 'SimpKing' to 'Most Devoted Beliver'

Sewersliding 4000 times🔪: There. (2:43 PM)

Most Devoted Believer: True, but no. (2:43 PM)

'Most Devoted Believer' has changed their nickname to 'Crimson Rain'

Slacker-for-life: so back to the Naofumi issue (2:46 PM)

Reading-TWS-for-the-nth-time: What's the book called (2:47 PM)

Slacker-for-life: The Legend of the Four Cardinal Weapons. (2:48 PM)

Reading-TWS-for-the-nth-time: Anything interesting about it? (2:50 PM)

Slacker-for-life: wait a sec. (2:51 PM)

---

Slacker-for-life: Okay so it just explains the legend of four weapons meant to save that world: spear, bow, sword, and shield. it also mentions a princess that seems pretty bitchy as the heroine. apparently all four heroes are the protegnists, expect there is nothing written about the shield hero and the lest 20 pages are just blank (3:21 PM)

Reading-TWS-for-the-nth-time: That sound like something Naofumi would read wait what (3:23 PM)

Lan-Er-Furen: since when does Naofumi just leave books laying around 🤔

Multiple people are typing...

Sewersliding 4000 times🔪: ALRIGHT SOMETHING IS DEFINITELY WRONG IF NAOFUMI LEFT A BOOK JUST LAYING ABOUT

————

And then countless more messages of the Kids trying to figure out what could've happened and where he'd gone and how they could help him.

————

Dimensional Dad™️: Sorry, my phone and system was on mute.

Lan-Er-Furen: WHAT HAPPENED?!?!?!?! w(ﾟДﾟ)w

Dimensional Dad™️: Let's just say Cale and Dokja aren't the only ones who got (technically) Isekai'd now.

Slacker-for-life: Did you get transported into a novel too?

Dimensional Dad™️: But, but I did get summoned to be a Hero for this world, just without being hit by a truck first. The bow hero did get hit by a truck to get here tho

Slacker-for-life: omg classic isekai But when are you coming back I want y new phone this kids almost broke this one when they found it.

Dimensional Dad™️: See here's the thing. I can't.

Lan-Er-Furen: WHAT?!?! (＃°Д°) (Everyone else sending a variation of What?!)

Dimensional Dad™️: Yeah, this shield i got stuck to my body won't let me use my powers. (Everyone sending a variation of What?!)

————

And after that, Naofumi has to explain about the Shield, how the world and Waves worked from what he know, how it was basically from the book he'd read, but he was not in the book, he was in an actual world, and that he decided to try out the Hero Thing. It seemed fun and could help him find a way back. Plus, this new world seemed interesting enough.

However, only two days later, out of nowhere, Naofumi sent another message.

————

Dimensional Dad™️: I take back everything I have said about this world. it is shit and i would like to go back now. but of course, i can't, because I'm stuck here with this HELL DAMNED SHIELD

Dimensional Dad™️: Status update: Just got accused of raping and assaulting the girl who'd joined my party whom i thought i could at least vaguely trust, and it was apparently streamed live via magic, so now the whole god damned kingdom saw the unfair trial and I've been branded as a criminal. also the other heroes didn't try to help at all, no one did, so quite literally everyone is against me and my survival.

Lan-Er-Furen: (ㆆ_ㆆ) ┌( ಠ_ಠ)┘ ヽ(゜▽゜)－C🔪⚔️🗡️

Reading-TWS-for-the-nth-time: alright so who's ready for murder I've got a Yoo Joonghuyk and I'm only half-afraid to use him and also two ready-for-murder children.

Sewersliding 4000 times🔪: I've got countless rewinds to try every torture method.

CrimsonRain: I've got some very hungry ghosts.

Lan-Er-Furen: I'm sure my corpses and crows are in need of a little snack. The radishes also look ready for murder right now.

Slacker-for-life: I'm sure she wouldn't mind being eaten by a dragon.

Shadow Monarch: I'm sure Tank could got for a snack.

Dimensional Dad™️: CALM DOWN EDGELORDS

————

As Naofumi continued to try leveling up and serving in this world, the others tried giving him tip on how to go about his way, mainly those who were familiar with surviving in the wild, or giving tips on how to trick the economy (*cough*scammer tips*cough**cough*Cale*cough)

After a while, Naofumi suddenly sent a picture with a message.

————

Dimensional Dad™️: I GOT A BIRB (File attached: A picture of a baby filolial Filo sleeping on a pillow)

CrimsonRain: What creature is that (Also Gege says he like it and thinks it's adorable.)

Dimensional Dad™️: She is called a Filolial, and she is specifically a Filolial Queen. I named her Filo.

Lan-Er-Furen: And I thought Jiang Cheng was bad at naming. Also, she is ADORABLE

————

After a few weeks after, when Filo turned into a girl with wings, which confused everyone, Naofumi sent a picture of Raphtalia and Filo together with the message;

Dimensional Dad™️: I didn't tell you all, but I picked up two more kids; this is Filo(yes the bird turned into a girl, apparently Filolial Queens can do that) and Raphtalia(she is a sub-human race called demi-humans, hence the raccoon ears and tail.). They are now your younger sisters. (One file attached: a picture of Raphtalia and Filo smiling at the camera)

Which resulted in mainly Wei Wuxian demanding and begging to meet them. Though, since Naofumi still could dimension-travel, they all settled for face-time.

It was an experience.

Hua Cheng had brought Xie Lian to meet the girls too, chatting and showing the feeds via his butterflies, Wei Wuxian included his family (LWJ and the Juniors), and Kim Dokja included Shin Yoosung and Lee Gilyoung to meet them too. The Shadows also interrupted and ended up joining Sung Jinwoo.

Wei Wixuan and the Shadows kept cooing at the children, Xie Lian was happily smiling the whole time. Even more, half-scared cooing happened when Filo confidently started calling Motoyasu 'Idiot Spear Guy' and talking about how every time she saw him she'd kicked him between the legs until he went flying.

Then, after the group had fought against the Pope of the Three Heroes' Church, the group chat got a call from Naofumi's phone, and when picked up, was addressed by a frantic Raphtalia and a crying Filo in the background. Everyone had been worried in their own way when they heard what Naofumi had done, almost sacrificing himself with what was a borderline Suicide-Attack.

When he woke up, after his talk with the Queen, face-time was mandatory according to Raphtalia, who held the phone up so everyone could see him. When confronted with his self-sacrifice, all he responded with was that now they know how he felt whenever they did it.

When the trip to Cal Mira rolled around, Naofumi ended up being teased endlessly. After frantically ending a call to join L'Arc and Therese who'd called for him, Wei Wuxian had mentioned that he'd never sounded like that before and had blushed when they'd called him.

Naofumi kept denying it, until after he and the girls had grinded with the two for one day and had spent a whole night making Therese and bracelet to be rewarded with overjoyed tears and a smile.

During the next face-time, Raphtalia and Filo felt the need to out him and his crush on the two adventurers, which resulted in a long interrogating about wether they were good enough for him, and Wei Wuxian at some point asking if he got laid, which he decidedly did not answer.

————

Lan-Er-Furen: omg Naofumi might get into a relationship before @/Reading-TWS-for-the-nth-time and @/Slacker-for-life get with their protagonists and that prince! (￣y▽￣)╭ Hoho.....

Reading-TWS-for-the-nth-time: HUH

Slacker-for-life: HUH?!

CrimsonRain: not Wuxian acting like Pei Ming

————

When L'Arc and Therese betrayed them at Cal Mira, Naofumi had gotten them to listen to him about different dimensions, only for the Wave Timer to run out before he could actually explain.

He also cleverly decided not the tell the Kids what happened, because, despite everything, he still held affection and a little hope for L'Arc and Therese, and wanted none of the Kids to somehow find a way to murder the two (only to then raise them as the dead again just to kill them again, and then summon their soul, only to crush that painfully too. Has happened before to people who hurt Naofumi, will happen again. )

Finally, when he was granted access by the Spirit Tortoise (Which Naofumi had explained to be a 'Bigger, Badder, More Annoying version of the Xuanwu of Slaughter'.), his Dimensional powers came back, but, a bit too late, as he was knocked out and away from his party before he could use them.

But, when he woke up with Rishia and met Kizuna, he decided to take a quick break and get some help in his Pocket Dimension, but not before sending another message;

Dimensional Dad™️: ALRIGHT WHO'S READY TO GO ON AN ADVENTURE IN ANOTHER WORLD WITH RISHIA AND I

Lan-Er-Furen: What about Raphtalia and Filo?

Dimensional Dad™️: Yeah we might need to find them first.

That had sparked multiple other than a very enthusiastic Wei Wuxian to join, who also roped his family into joining.

So now he had three necromancer (WWX, Sung Jinwoo, Kim Gongja), a Ghost King, an actual God, and multiple Cultivators to help him. Kizuna was very enthusiastic about meeting them all.

And apparently WWX and HC's worlds were novels in her world? meaning she new almost everything about them? and was a big fan of them?

At least she didn't overstep or act too weird around them.

After they got everything under control, found Raphtalia and Filo, scolded L'Arc, Therese, and Glass, Naofumi decided it was time for a short vacation.

So, he took his newly expanded party to his pocket dimension.

Where L'Arc and Therese promptly got a shovel-talk by multiple very scary people with very high standards.

Oh well, right now Naofumi just needed a relaxing bath with a good book and some Emperor's Smile, a nap, and to maybe kiss L'Arc and Therese at some point, not necessarily in that order.

————— Tagging: @rosesinbloom7love, @ideas-of-immortality, @crypid-called-ash, @eli-elien, @bluelovestoship, @queen-of-carven-stone, @zachy-akaya, @wisdomismyloweststattm, @maloteddy, @official-anxiety, @milkkum-jpg —————

Dad Naofumi and the multiverse

Multiverss not specific but manhwas are included

Naofumi keeps getting summoned in random worlds where at leaste one of the main cast pre cannon or cannon that has daddy/mommy issues, he'll just adopt them somehow keepinh in contact with them after he had left the world. It still continues in rotsh

Whenever there's a holiday celebrating parents in any of hod children's world, he'll get presents and letters (yes everyone contacts each other and have met, yes he has gotten letters that say grandma/pa) that he saves, and clothes are given to Raphtaila, Filo, Metly, Ren and any other children he adopted in this world.

Naofumi sent one letter gushing about therese and larc leading to his "doom". He got spammed on the phone one of his kids sent him that somehow works in the world asking if they were hot, kind, special, worthy of him. Some asking if he got laid which he didn't answer and some going k.

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abuziewicz · 4 years ago

Text

my media use

At noon on Thursday, October 29th, I woke up. I had about two hours until I had to pick my sister up from school. I took a shower, got dressed, and went downstairs. By this point, it was around 12:30pm. I ate a bowl of cereal, picked up my phone, and laid down on the couch. When I get on my phone for the first time in a day, I check my emails and text messages first. I have emails from Venmo, Word of the Day, Postmates, and Holt International. Venmo let me know I had signed in to the app. Word of the Day gave me a fun new term: “subitaneous,” which can mean “suddenly.” I occasionally deliver food with Postmates, so they let me know what benefits they offer, such as store or entertainment discounts. Holt International is a Christian company that finds kids who are missing parents or struggling financially, and connects them with volunteers who sponsor them by sending a monthly fee over, to help them cover expenses. My parents have sponsored kids for years, and when I got my own source of income, they chose a girl in India for me to sponsor as well. Holt International sends me various promotional emails. I check my email to see if there are any coupons, or information that I need, such as paychecks. Mostly my email revolves around money, when I think about it. Sometimes I feel stressed out when I check my email, because my bank will tell me how much money I have, or I will read a subject line wrong and think I’m in trouble with a company. Usually, I just feel a sense of necessity, to see what I’m being emailed about, and to delete the emails I do not need.

After I check my emails, I check my text messages. Most mornings this sequence is flipped, as messages are much more important in my world than emails are. However, this morning, the only text in my phone is a confirmation request for my wisdom teeth removal appointment in a week. I respond “Y” to confirm. I am a little nervous about the appointment, but I am glad it will happen so soon.

It is now 1pm. On Monday, I had taken my one-year-old 16GB LG smartphone and factory reset it in the hopes of getting more storage and faster processing time. Unfortunately, this did not work out as well as I had hoped. While I did have more space, the “system” (undeletable, inaccessible parts of the phone) took up 9GB of my available 16, and would only increase, even after a full wipe. I click on Snapchat, take a quick close-up picture of my face, and begin to type. Any story posted to Snapchat will only last 24 hours before disappearing. There is an option for the poster to have story posts saved into their Memories, a camera roll just for Snapchat. I have a private Snapchat story, in which I control the amount of people who see what I specifically post in that area. In this story, I have about 30-33 viewers. I ask such viewers, over top of the close-up selfie, “Anyone with Apple iPhones: what is your storage like? I am thinking of converting.” After it successfully adds to my story, I am on the Snapchat “Chat” screen. I have “streaks” (numbers that indicate the number of days two people have sent each other Snaps back and forth for) with eleven people. I send, one by one, a different picture to each of the eleven people. When I first downloaded Snapchat, I had over two dozen, maybe even three dozen streaks. Some people have hundreds. Often, people take one single picture, indicate in some way that the image is being sent to maintain the Streak number, and send it to everyone they keep a streak with. I have eleven people I send streaks to. It is no great hassle for me to send a different picture to each person. In fact, I prefer it, as it takes up more time. Most people take a little while to respond anyways. I dislike when people respond to my Snapchats within seconds, it is stressful to me! “Don’t you have anything else going on?” I wonder. “I understand that it’s a pandemic, but do some homework or something. I only snapped you twenty seconds ago.” Once I have sent all of my streaks for the day, I scroll over to see what other people have put on their stories. I usually only have around 50 stories to go through each day. I pay a little more attention to some, a little less attention to others. It is pretty easy to skip quickly from one story to the next if I want, but it’s only 1:20, so I have time to look at each one. There are Friday fundraisers, one of my sister’s friends had an emergency appendectomy (thankfully she was fine, and excited to watch Impractical Jokers in the hospital), some people had work pictures or puppies in beds. Most of the stories make me smile, a few don’t elicit much of a response or thought besides “oh, that’s nice.” Usually Snapchat does not bring me negativity that I am aware of. Sometimes I worry for people, in the event of, oh, a hypothetical emergency appendectomy, or when someone is sad or worried. One person makes me frustrated sometimes, as they routinely ask people for money for rent and food, then use that money to get tattoos. They tell people they used their money to get a tattoo, not food or rent. Lately they have not posted any requests, but the next time they do, I will most likely block them. Mostly, I am happy to use Snapchat to see what my friends are up to, even if I can’t see them very often.

After scrolling through Snapchat, it’s around 1:40. I open the Instagram app. I talk to a few friends through Instagram direct messaging. I am actually not sure why that is our main form of communication, but I do not mind it. My friend Russell has answered my Snapchat story through Instagram. He has an older iPhone, but as long as he doesn’t update it, it doesn’t get any slower. We discuss other aspects of the iPhone. I am thoughtful about it. Another friend and I get into a small argument- we have both been busy, and were worried that we were growing apart. I am slightly annoyed, then understanding and calm. A group chat I am in, called The Rats, is sending pictures of baby opossums. They are adorable and their mouths open at a full 45-degree angle. The possums make me smile. Returning to the Instagram home page, I can see posts made by people I follow. I like nearly every post I see as I scroll down. Mostly I follow people I know, and a few brands. It takes only a minute or two to like everything and return to the top of the page. Similar to Snapchat, I take care of business, then move on to stories. I pay very little attention to Instagram stories. Even though I don’t follow a lot of brands, some of the people I follow post dozens of stories in a row. I have to click through them rapidly. Sometimes it makes me feel anxious to move so quickly. Usually, if someone repeatedly posts too much, I “mute” them, which means I do not have to see their story anymore unless I actively choose to. Sometimes, I forget, and am left tapping tensely through the tags. As I finish going through stories, my mom walks in the door. It’s 1:50pm.

My sister goes to a technical school 15 minutes away. She has to be picked up around 2:15pm. My mom puts down some bags from errands she’s run, grabs some water, and asks if my brother and I want to join her to pick up my sister. My brother is in the middle of an XBox match, but the dog and I love car rides, and joyfully accompany her. She asks me to turn on my Halloween playlist as we drive. Around 1:55pm, I connect to the car’s aux cord, and pull up Spotify. As we drive, I fiddle with the Spotify songs- even though I made the playlist, there are some songs I prefer to hear over others. I also occasionally respond to messages about iPhone storage. Each one convinces me a little more, bit by bit. I am on my phone for about seven of the fifteen minutes that we drive to the school. As we wait in the parking lot, I text a little more. We were in the parking lot for about fifteen minutes- my sister forgot her iPad in her classroom and had to go back for it. I am on my phone for about nine of those fifteen minutes. When my sister gets back again, we head towards home. Beggar’s Night is going on at 6pm. It is around 2:30pm. My sister and I are going to dress up as Dipper and Mabel from Gravity Falls for when we ladle out candy. My sister and the dog are dropped off at home so that she can finish her costume and he can run around the backyard. My mom and I go to Walmart to pick up candy. We do not usually allow ourselves to pick up candy until very shortly before Beggar’s Night, as we will eat it. Even less than four hours was not enough time to exercise self-control, as each member of the family stole a few pieces. I am not on my phone for most of the Walmart trip. We are only there for around twenty minutes, weighing the prices and candy amounts of each package. After paying and driving home, we get in the door around 3pm.

I get on my laptop to check my CState email and Blackboard. I have no due assignments for the night, but I check to make sure I haven’t forgotten something. This takes around five minutes. I begin to finish my Dipper costume (painting a white ball cap partially blue), periodically answering more iPhone suggestions, and responding to regular messages. The hours of 3pm, 4pm, and 5pm consist of texting, painting, and briefly eating. I spend about one & a half of the three hours texting. I can’t easily text while I paint, but I perform both tasks alternatively while I wait for the paint to dry or people to respond. When it hits 6pm, we are ready for Beggar’s Night. We have masks on, a long ladle to scoop candy into bags, and cover from the garage to protect us from rain. Over the course of the two hours, we only get about a dozen kids, maybe fifteen at the most. My mom scoops generously, since she knows anything left over won’t last until 9pm under our roof. People are grateful and talkative. I am on my phone only once during Trick or Treat, and only for five minutes, to upload a Snaochat story of my sister and I as Dipper and Mabel, and of course, send a couple of texts. After Trick or Treat is finished, we are all cold, and left with about 10 of the 255 candy pieces. We settle down in front of the TV.

It is now around 8pm. We watch TV together nearly every night as a family, usually for at least an hour. In celebration of October and Halloween, we have started to rewatch Stranger Things. Other shows we may watch include New Girl, My Name is Earl, Bob’s Burgers, The Good Place, and The Legend of Korra. Sometimes we’ll throw in a movie if we have enough time. Usually we watch three or four episodes per night- one episode from one show, then moving on to one episode of a different show. I love all of these shows fairly equally, though I can confidently say The Legend of Korra is my least favorite. I still enjoy it! In comparison, though, I enjoy it less than the others. We watch shows that usually include comedy, to end our days with a collective laugh. Tonight, we watch New Girl, then Stranger Things, followed by My Name is Earl and tying up the night with Bob’s Burgers. We only have two episodes left of The Good Place, so we have been putting off watching it. I am mostly finished texting for the day. Before 10pm, I send goodnight messages and plug my phone in to charge. The end credits of Bob’s Burgers mark the end of my day.

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edourado · 7 years ago

Text

Hungry

Oh, Kastle.

This is for my fiery red @theserpentgod, who tagged me on this post by @nxtyourfirstrodeo and requested a fic from this simple, but very interesting and suggestive gifset. Also inspired by this one, because I could not help myself.

It is, also, a second attempt at the “skin hungry” prompt by @primarybufferpanel. I already delivered that one (here) but I’ve always felt like the “skin hungry” element was a little lacking. So this is me trying again.

This is shorter than usual, since I wanted to deliver it quickly. But, for those of you who like longer, lenghtier smutty Kastle, don’t worry. Some of that is coming.

This is immediatelly after the events of Never Had. You don’t HAVE to read it, but, you know. Couldn’t hurt ;-)

Much love ;*

She wakes up worried about him.

He insisted on sleeping on the couch, refusing even the possibility of her giving up her bed for him, even all injured and bruised as he was.

Before her alarm goes off, she sits up and smiles, inhaling the smell of fresh coffee.

Sure enough, he is standing there, moving around her kitchen with a familiarity she couldn’t claim to have herself - he knew where all her pots and pans and glasses and plates went. She, sometimes, got confused in the mess.

“Good morning”, she says, and it’s almost a question.

“Mornin’”, he replies, voice gruff and deep. Probably the first word he said after waking up. She picks up the mug he gives her, wondering how many people could claim the Punisher knows how they take their coffee.

“How did you sleep?”she asks after taking a sip, wondering where he had found not only a waffle maker, but the ingredients to make them.

“Good enough.”

Soon, he is putting two waffles in two plates and moving to the small table, motioning for her to join him with his head.

“Let me see”, she asks when they sit and he lets her touch his face, inspecting the wounds the grazing bullets left on his cheek last night. It’s red and angry. Karen sighs, remembering what it felt like to lie on the floor, Matt holding her, stopping her from going to him, probably saving her from getting herself killed.

“You’re not going out today, right?” she asks, dropping her hand, letting him eat, picking up her own fork.

Frank gives her a look. It’s not angry, but it’s definitely annoyed. He knows he has to stay put, at least until they manage to get an advantage. Liking it, though, it’s a different story.

“I can bring you something from the street”, she offers, eating the very good waffle he made her. “Do you want anything?”

Again, he fixes her with a look, but this one is different. It’s one of those, that make her blush and curl her toes. Even if she wants to look away - it’s too intense, that stare, he might as well be reading all of her thoughts - she holds it, even dares a tiny smile.

“Don’t know. Burger, maybe?”

She blinks and raises her brows.

“Junk food? That’s a first.”

“I dodged three bullets last night. Figure I earned it.”

“Indeed you have”, she says, smiling too much, tone it down, geez, she reprimands herself. “Burger it is. Fries?”

“With bacon.”

“Of course.”

“You got work today?” he asks after a few seconds of silence. She nods and is surprised when he makes a face. It’s only for a second, maybe even less than that, but he pouts. It’s gone in a flash when he takes another bite of his waffle. She is the one that stares this time, and she keeps staring until he motions to her mug.

“Drink your coffee.”

It’s strong and bitter, but he knows she takes it with one sugar, so there’s a faint sweetness to it.

Karen is reluctant to get up and go to work. She likes it when he’s here. She feels safe, and it’s early in the morning, so the city is not yet so loud, the light is golden through her curtains, the smell of coffee and the silence and the light and the stares make her want to stay. He makes her want to stay.

Alas, she has to go. It doesn’t take too long for her phone to start pinging, messages coming in, demanding her attention.

“Go”, he says when she gets a call. “I’ll do the dishes.”

She’s talking to Trish on the phone, strategizing, coming up with meetings that were supposed to be about money laundering, but is actually about opening doors for the vigilantes in their lives.

His towel is hanging beside hers in the bathroom, the first aid kit (which stopped being “first aid” a long while ago) is on the sink. When she opens the cabinet, she sees the deodorant he forgot there once and now just lived here, along with shaving cream and her own products. His disposable toothbrush that was supposed to have been disposed already is sitting there next to her slightly fancier one.

The steam of her shower was still fogging up the bathroom, so there was no reasonable explanation for the chill that ran down her back at the sight of his shirt in the hamper. It was, she would have to admit, just the thought of having him here so regularly, occupying her space, making it look like…

Sighing, she smothers those thoughts, shaking her head, promising herself she would dwell on them once he was gone, even if she shouldn’t.

She was almost ready to go when Trish calls her again, asking for some files they had dug up weeks ago, that might have pertinent information.

“Yes, I got it here”, she answers, distracted for a moment with the work. “Tell me the numbers again.”

They are both excited about their new discovery - a technicality that would make Jessica’s and Matt’s work much easier, speeding the whole thing up.

“What are you gonna tell Ellison?” Trish is asking, but she’s distracted again.

Frank is standing in front of the kitchen sink, doing the dishes. It’s a simple enough image, except his shirt is very… Fitted. She can see the muscles of his back and shoulders, the defined lines of them before the fabric gets loose again around his waist. His pants are not so tight, but they rest low on his hips. He put the dish rag on his back pocket.

Karen swallows some extra saliva that suddenly pooled in her mouth and shakes her head, to try and remove that image. She does not need to be thinking about that the entire day.

“Ok, I’m out”, she announces and he looks behind him while she walks to the door, purse on her shoulder, briefcase full of files on her hand.

“You be careful”, he says in that voice of his and she would pray for him to stop sounding like that, except she likes it too much.

With a smile his way, she goes, gets out of that apartment because, honestly, she needs some air.

She is wondering how is she going to survive having him for a roommate without melting into a pile of wanton bones when Trish arrives for their meeting.

“So”, she asks after everything is dealt with and they stop for coffee on their way back to their own offices. “How’s… Francis?”

With a sigh, Karen thinks about lying. Saying it’s fine, it’s going good, telling her about his health and how he’s doing after being shot at.

But, in all honesty, she is tired of this. She can’t talk to Matt about stuff like that - God, she can’t even imagine that -, nor to Foggy, poor thing has enough on his plate dealing with his best friend being Daredevil, she doesn’t think he could handle her feelings for the Punisher.

She needs someone. A friend, someone that understands her and won’t judge the crazy things going through her mind, her heart and her body.

She figures Trish fits that description perfectly.

“He’s… Present.”

Trish squints.

“Like…”

“Yeah”. They both take a sip of their coffees. “He occupies to whole place. Even when he’s not there, does that make sense?”

“Oh yeah.”

“And I swear, I’m about to… I don’t know, I might be going crazy.”

“Listen. I’m not very familiar with him, only met the guy twice. But hey. I get you. I really do.”

Karen is feeling a bit better when she gets home again, holding a bag with his burger and fries. Talking to Trish really was the best decision. They laughed and they speculated and imagined and wondered.

Closing and locking the door behind her, she looks around for him. When she doesn’t find him, she moves to place her things on the coffee table.

He was in the bathroom, and Karen finds herself mute at the sight of him again.

The door was cracked open, she imagined to let the steam of the shower out. He was standing shirtless in front of the mirror, hands on the sink, the muscles of his arms bare and evident.

She’s just done mentally shaking herself again, to try and clear up her mind, when he looks her way and their eyes meet.

His body is what caught her attention. His eyes were the ones that caught hers. But it’s the big bruise on his chest that makes her gasp.

Before she can even think about it, she’s there, pushing the bathroom door open and he’s telling her it could be worse. Her face must betray her concern.

“Was this from that gun you told me about?”

“Probably”, he says, looking at his reflection in the mirror, and Karen leans against the counter, not able to take her eyes from the big purple bruise, sickly looking, a little under and to the right of his heart.

“I saw when it hit you”, she says while he runs a big wad of cotton over it, cleaning the scrapes left behind by his vest. “And then the ones on your face, I thought-”

She interrupts herself, not wishing to dwell on what she felt when she saw him fall, unconscious.

“I’m glad Red held you back”, he says, cringing when the antiseptic stings him.

“Yeah”, she agrees, taking the cotton from his hand, taking over in cleaning the scratches. “Me too.”

He winces when she presses a little harder than he had been, his hand closing around the edge of the counter.

“Sorry, sorry.”

She is focused on not hurting him, but being thorough, so she doesn’t immediately notice him watching her. When she raises her eyes and lets them wander around him, looking for more things to fix, she sees it.

And then she notices he’s really close. Really close. She is standing on the space between him and the sink, where she leans, and he is close enough that she sees his pupils dilate and contract.

Karen holds his gaze again, for a moment longer, and then looks down to prepare another wad of cotton to clean the wounds on his face.

He shuts his eyes tight when she touches the embedded cotton on his face and it’s like she can feel it herself. Holding her breath, she keeps it there, but leans closer to him, placing a kiss on his other cheek, free hand on his neck, trying to soothe.

It’s just meant to soothe, both of them. His bruises and her memory, to comfort both of them, and she meant to stay only a second, but the hand that gripped the counter raises and lands on her back, keeping her where she is.

She can’t see what she’s doing like that. She needs to lean back and look to know where to clean, where to press, where to be gentler. But he doesn’t let go of her. So she doesn’t move from there. She can feel his breath on her shoulder, and that shiver is back, running up and down her body when he closes his hand around the fabric of her blouse, face moving to the left towards hers and his lips land on her neck.

Her own eyes fall closed when he drags them a little, almost as if getting himself acquainted with that part of her, before his hand, still balled in a fist and holding her blouse on her back, presses her closer to him and he lifts his face until he has his mouth right on that spot under her ear, on her jaw, and she’s breathing heavily, right hand gripping his shoulder while the right one lets go of the cotton to sneak to the back of his head, slipping down his back when he lifts his head to catch her mouth with his.

There is a monster inside her stomach that threatens to consume her when he touches his tongue to hers, letting out some sort of growl that has her toes curling all over again.

He is fully pressed against her, now, both arms around her, pulling her blouse from inside her skirt, kissing her dizzy, and she’s trying to hold on to him, sighing to the ceiling when he lets go of her mouth in favor of her neck again, this time sucking on skin, pulling it through his teeth and she doesn’t care in the least that that is definitely gonna leave a mark. Let him do it, as many as he wants, she doesn’t care, she wants all of them.

Suddenly, he’s pulling back to pull her blouse over her head and she gets a glimpse of his face - serious as ever, with a hint of desperation that made that monster inside her purr with pride and possession.

Frank throws the article behind him without a thought and moved back in, his hands on her face, one thumb pulling on her lower lip, the other swiping over one of her eyes before he slides them up, weaving in her hair, pulling a bit to make her offer her neck to him and she grips his biceps when his mouth meets her skin again, lips and teeth and tongue. She loves it, maybe she loves it too much, letting go of his arms to support her hands on the sink, head tumbling back for him, one of his hands still on her hair while the other slides down her back.

He’s kissing her again, charged, full of that thing he has been hinting with his stares, with that way he looked at her lately.

It’s also full of something she never felt before in a kiss. His mouth and his tongue and his hands, he touches and kisses her like she’s water and he’s parched.

Like he’s hungry.

She feels like she’s his already. Feels like he’s hers, the sounds he makes might as well be his surrendering.

Karen lifts her left hand to hold him by his shoulder when he finds the zipper of her skirt on her back. Her right hands runs the length of his arm, from his wrist to his shoulder and then down his back, those muscles she was admiring that morning taut and solid under her palm.

He lowers the zipper on her skirt and nips on she lobe of her ear. She yelps, surprised, when he lifts her skirt and pulls it over her head too, instead of lowering it down her legs like she expected. Maybe the laughter she lets out is a little nervous, since this is really happening, she really is standing here in her bathroom with him, just in her underwear.

It’s worth it, because he smiles too, throwing it back like he did with her top, such an open smile, and silences her laughter with another kiss, sneaking his arms around her, and hers are around him, she’s careful not to touch the wounds on his face, trying to commit the feel of him to memory, his solid body against hers, how small she feels inside his arms, that monster inside her purring at his kisses, at his hands, the way he grips her bottom before lifting her.

She’s sure he’s going to sit her on the counter, she’s fine with it, whatever he wants, she can’t think of anything she would deny him right now. She lets go of him with her left hand to support her weight on the cold counter, but once he has a hold of her, hands on her thighs and her right arm around his shoulder, he turns around and presses her against the door.

Only he doesn’t want the door. With his tongue sliding around hers, he takes a step back, bangs the door shut and then another step forward, pressing her to the wall. The tiles are cold against her skin, and she glides because of the steam of his shower, still making the bathroom warmer than it should be in the early days of fall.

And then he slows down. She can feel all of him, her skin is vibrating because of it, it’s her turn to press his skin between her teeth, and he sighs in her ear, one big hand exploring her leg while the other remains tight and still on her thigh, making sure she doesn’t budge from the spot he has her.

She can feel his hesitation in the way his hand finally leaves it’s spot and rises to her head, caressing her hair. It’s full of care, it’s tender and it’s wondering.

She doesn’t want him to wonder, not right now, she needs him to be sure, as sure as she is, so Karen makes him look at her, catches his eyes for a moment, trying to tell him, trying to make him see.

Her lips on his are soft at first, because she understands, she really does, what this might mean for him, so she is willing to slow down a bit, just to make sure.

Frank seems to understand it, because the hand on her hair is no longer soft. He’s pressing her mouth to his again, opening his up and sliding his tongue against hers one more time, sensually again, hungry again, moaning again.

Just to make sure, she redirects the hand on her waist to her back, leaning off the wall, relying on him for balance, placing his fingers on the hook of her bra and he is quick to respond, unhooking it in a second, pulling the thing off her, mouth lower again, hand pressing so good, and her eyes are closed, enjoying it while her own hand slides from his back, stopping on his neck for a second, around and down his chest, careful around his wound, landing on the waist of his pants, undoing them, wincing when he bites on a big chunk of her skin as she grips him, that growling making her feel powerful, mellow and pliable, putty in his hands.

Her moan echoes on the tiles of her tiny bathroom when he sinks into her after tugging and pulling on her underwear, probably ruining it, and she bites her lip to keep them in, because she doesn’t trust the walls, doesn’t trust her neighbors, doesn’t trust herself.

He moves deliciously, amazingly, just right, perfect, and Karen tightens her legs around him, nails sinking on his shoulder and fingers gripping his hair, half aware of his breath against her ear, lips on flesh, tongue coming out to taste the salt of her skin, hips thrusting so good.

She hears his name leave her lips, and he hums his response, both hands exploring now, touching what they can of her breasts, since they’re tightly pressed against his chest, lowering and gripping her legs, adjusting them like this and that, left hand finding her right one, fingers intertwining, and he moves both his arm and hers behind her back, making her arch against him, she wants to cry at how good it feels, and it comes out strangled, because she’s still biting on her own lower lip, but his thumb is there to pull it free, and she finds herself wrapping her tongue around his finger, sucking it inside her mouth when he touches her lips, and his teeth are pressing again, there at the base of her neck, biting and sucking, moving within her so good, so good she thinks she might fly right out of her body.

When he licks a path from one side of her neck to the other, she lets her head fall against the wall, right hand still tight around his on her back, the left one in his hair.

While he moves, his mouth makes it’s way up her neck, and she moves to kiss him again, she can’t get enough of kissing him.

He has his lips on her cheek when she opens her eyes and sees their reflection in the mirror above the sink. Her legs are tight around him, the muscles on his back are taut and shifting while he moves.

The vision of Frank pressing her against the wall like that is not something she’s gonna forget so soon, and she keeps watching, watching as he moves, as he plants his mouth wherever he can reach, left arm around her while his right one holds her under her knee, the hold almost a leverage for his thrusts, long and measured and hard, her throat is dry, she reaches a hand to hold him, the reflection of her fingers on his back and her legs around his waist and his grunts in her ear making her want more it it, more of it all, his chest against her, his skin is hot, feverish, she slides against him, both of them sweating, she needs more, more, more, more of him, she can’t get enough.

Karen stretches the leg he’s not holding, and it’s a small bathroom. Her right foot finds leverage on the sink, and she pushes against it, creating some resistance against him.

Frank lets go of her hand behind her back to pull on the roots of her hair again, speeding up, sending electrical shocks through her. Next, he lets go of her leg, but she keeps it there, and hugs her waist, pressing her to him further, she can barely move, he has her arched and twisted against him, but she loves it, closes her eyes again, arms around him, nails on his skin because she’s about to explode, she needs to hold on to something, God, please don’t let him stop, don’t ever let him stop.

She’s barely aware of her cries bouncing off the walls when she sees white and her body goes limp against him. Frank is kissing her when he steps back, carrying her away from the wall.

Next thing she knows, she’s lying on her bed, his hands are all over her, so is his mouth, soothing, kissing, caressing, nipping, pressing and licking, she’s shivering. But then his mouth is on hers again, he’s bending her leg, he’s on top of her, fuck, there he is, again, slower, she’s sensitive, but he’s so warm, it’s so good.

“Again”, he says in her ear, and she doesn’t even know what he means, but her body does, apparently, because she’s vibrating again, hands tight on whatever part she can find of him, responding to that hand he sneaked between them, how does he know to do that?

“Open your eyes”, he says, locking her leg around his hip and she does, sees him there above her, looks straight in his eyes, and he is inspecting her face, moving, moving, faster now, there’s a drop of sweat running from his brow down the side of his face and she reaches to pick it up.

Frank closes his own eyes and leans into her touch, removing his hand from between them and she whines, because she misses it immediately, but he’s speeding up, his thrusts are harder and he kisses her silent.

“One more time for me, c’mon”.

She opens her mouth to his kiss and he picks her hands up, pressing so hard she can’t even close her fingers around his, and pins them over her head on the mattress. Karen is about to ask him to let her touch him when he lets go, preferring to run his own hands around her body, and she holds him, bringing his mouth back to hers while he pushes her over that precipice again.

His head is resting on her chest and her fingers are roaming around his back, both of their breathing back under control, but their bodies still warm and slick with sweat, when she remembers his dinner.

“I got that burger for you”, she offers, realizing she’s thirsty, her throat is dry, and he shakes with quiet laughter, placing a kiss on her collarbone and turning them until they’re lying on their sides, and the look on his face is so self satisfied she almost laughs.

“I’ll order another one”, he says, nose bumping against hers sweetly. “I’m starving.”

He gets up to do just that, pressing kisses on her before going, and she walks towards the bathroom to take a shower.

Her reflection shows her all the spots he pressed and kissed and sucked and bit, and she can’t help but feel good at the sight, as shocking as it is.

She is rinsing shampoo from her hair when he walks in, and they kiss under the warm spray of the shower.

Karen falls asleep against his chest, tired and sore and so satisfied it should be illegal. Well, he’s the Punisher. It is a little illegal.

#kastle #kastle fic #kastle ff #kastle smut #smut #Frank and Karen #Karen and Frank #writing #theserpentgod #nxtyourfirstrodeo #primarybufferpanel #Hell's Kitchen Chronicles #kastlelibrary

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bloodandrosesarenofun · 6 years ago

Text

Landrymat - The Reincarnation Series

(After a long time out of commission I am back to writing! I thought I'd share the excerpt of the first chapter of my novel, inspired by the last two pictures I posted. Let me know your thoughts. <3

Tag list:

@luna-evans-writes )

I feel the night air push at my hair and flannel as both stir up at it's touch. The clock on my cellphone says it's only four-thirty but the sun is already on it's way down for the night, early as every winter. It's taken a while for me to actually feel the winter. Strangely enough it's actually just starting to get warm in Jacksonville again but at the same time all of the typical winter shit is just starting to happen. People ringing bells for charity and lighting up random palm trees in an attempt to be festive, and complaining about seeing people's breathe as though breathing doesn't really happen till it's cold out.

The bus thankfully drops me off only maybe a two or three minute walk from my destination so I don't have to deal with it that much. The being outside. I hate this neighborhood, sort of. It's not like it's particularly bad, and I know I grew up better than my mum did, but it is still pretty ghetto and run down. The laundromat is not so cleverly named 'Landrymat' but the word looks cooler to me on the marquee so I chuckle at it, glowing like an old school neon sign in some Tumblr kid's bedroom. I feel my face warm up as I go up to the door, pausing as anxiety creeps it's way up the back of my neck. I doubt anyone'll know what they are, or even care what I'm washing, but I still feel that despite the logical side of my brain arguing against it.

'CLEANERS AND DRY CLEAN

WASHING MACHINES ONLY 50 CENTS PER LOAD

COME IN AND ASK ABOUT OUR SPECIALS'

I question what kind of specials a laundromat could possibly have but I suppose they mean deals on multiple loads? I glance at my backpack's strap and realize I'm not sure if I need to wash anything separate. The idea of asking up at the desk makes my heart go number than all the years of abuse so I decide to just go in and figure it out myself. "I'm only carrying somewhere over a hundred dollars worth of material in my bag, what's ruining a couple of them," I mutter.

Walking into the laundromat the first thing I see are all the washers and dryers so it takes me a secound to find the desk.

I hold my tongue about how stupid I think it is that it's in the back of the room (which it is about the size of a large master bedroom) as I walk up to the counter, I'd never been to a laundromat before and my anxious ass wants to eliminate as much risk of my looking stupid as I possibly can. "Hey," I try and lower my voice, standing straighter than I usually do. It's an effort given I've spent years training my voice to be high when I wanted something from people since mine was too low to be as quickly helped as the prissy tea kettle sounding girls, of course the years of manipulation would bite me eventually. I always hated that voice. "I need to wash, um, two loads of laundry."

"Do you need a dry clean?" Asks the burly desk lady, her hair braided back in a frizzy mess that said she probably didn't care much about work appearances and her tone suggesting she didn't really care about work. I shake my head 'no'. "Then pick a machine and just let me know if you need change."

"Oh. Okay. Thanks." I walk over to the wall that obviously has machines with wet clothes and soap tumbling in them and want to scream at the lack of signs. I survey the room, finding that there aren't really many people in here, thankfully. One woman sits on her phone in a waiting chair, charging it in the wall and speaking about as loudly about her divorce as it takes to let the whole entire room know her life story. A man strikes out with a red head a couple machines down from me, and an Asian lady who might be the manager talks with one of the employees apparently about the detergents. I pick a machine near the end and set my backpack down on a miscellaneous chair at the last machine. All of my binders are bundled up and shoved unceremoniously in the bag. I grab my wallet out and go to figuring out starting up the machine before I take them out, zipping back the backpack.

Living in a house where either your grandma or your father do all of your laundry (mostly because they insist) is feeling much less convenient as the feeling of intimidation from trying to figure out a new basic skill sets in. I stare blankly at the space beside the laundry machine, feeling fog set in, when the beep of the woman on the phone's laundry being done sets me off I jump, my heart thudding erratically in my chest. I don't know why I feel this way, and I can't find a rational way to deal with it. I try to do the breathing and focus thing but with nothing to focus on I panic, I dig my nails into the skin just under my wrist, grabbing my hoodie to try and hide it underneath as I claw at myself. It helps me. I feel dizzy but after a moment I'm back on the ground, almost like getting off something unstable for the first time in a while. My mind felt like it was still thinly veiled but I find myself able to lean against the washers. Shaking my head, I nod at my reflection, fixing my t shirt and going to figuring out the laundry. When I get it together, tossing everything from my backpack and quickly shutting it seems more discreet and I contemplate only doing one load just for the convenience of it, but I decide against it thinking about my lack of a job and money to replace for that. The machine turns on with a loud sound and I shut my eyes against it. Feeling physically sick I hastily take out my headphones again from where I've shoved them into my backpack's pocket and begin playing a song from Quietdrive, thinking the guitar and easily placed sexual lyrics will help me take my mind off my mental breakdown. The seats in the 'Landrymat' are cheap but they aren't as uncomfortable as I thought. I sit with my legs up weirdly crooked in the seat, looking around to see if anybody will care about it. The red haired girl from earlier is looking my way but her expression doesn't look irritated so I ignore it. The air is clean smelling, and the chemicals burn my nose, but it's all something to focus on as I zone out, inconsequentially digging my nails into my skin again, my hoodie wrapped inconsequentially around my hands like I was trying to bide off the cold. I feel alittle less stranded with the music blasting. It drowns out the other sounds. It takes a little while for my darks to be done, and I find myself way too intrigued by the fact you could never tell what the mass of black fabric is. It looks so inconsequential when it feels like if anybody saw it, knowing what it was, it would ruin my life.

I remove the clothes and set them in the dryer, taking a secound to pick the right cycles and having to google it to be sure, then put my lighter binders in for the same cycle. Feeling eyes on me, I turn and glance around the laundromat. The manager is nowhere to be seen and the employee is sweeping, the woman on her phone is talking to the man from earlier, and the red headed girl is staring at me. I turn to glance at the counter, and turn back to find her still watching.

I check my chest, making sure my shirt is on right and you can't see my binder through it or peeking over the top. I haven't said much since I got here and since I know my voice is the least passing thing about me I find it difficult to pinpoint what could be wrong with me. Is she really clocking me? Or trying to figure it out maybe? The girl doesn't seem deterred by the fact I've noticed her staring at me and I can't tell if I find that more unsettling. I get a strange vibe off her, almost like I've met her before, maybe a few times. My head tilts to the side as I study her. She has tan skin, and I can tell she doesn't use as much lightener as most Asian girls. Her face and eyes remind me of a wolf (and I'm not sure if that's crazy to say but) despite her not coming off as intimidating at all to me. Something about her's intriguing, and I find myself wanting to talk to her. She's dressed in all guys clothing, stuff you could probably find after a few minutes of digging through the small grungy punk section of Walmart or the closet of you dad's old teenage bedroom, but she wears it like a model on one of the magazines on the table. Her makeup is carefully done and her eyes are piercing as the stare into mine. "D-Do you need something?" I question, being conscious about my voice as I hear it waiver with nerves. I figure either she'll let me know where I know her from or maybe my saying something first will keep her from outing me, even if there aren't that many people in here. I don't think my heart can currently take being called out as trans* or gay.

Her eyes cut from mine to something behind my head and I turn around with an eyebrow raised in question. In the top right corner to the room is a little TV monitor playing the news on mute. Headlines role over the screen as they talk about the state of the world. I knew things have been bad, but the newscast for the day just seems to be 'The world is fucked pretty well' and I'm shocked at how little I've heard people talk about change despite even the holiday season's passing by. I turn back to find the girl grimacing at the screen. She looks down at me then shakes her head, "No. Nothing at all."

I make a face, closing the washing machine I hit start. She doesn't stare directly but I still catch her looking. "The world's pretty shit for just past the holidays isn't it?" Mentally, I kick myself for talking. If she chose to leave alone why wouldn't I let her?

She looks at me and nods slowly. "Yeah," she says, "Yeah it is. I don't think anyone gives a fuck." Her worlds hold a specific malice and she grits her teeth, looking back at the screen like she's thinking of someone specific. "Did you really think they would? Are you really into rights or something?" I realize that's a stupid question. "I mean, um, like activist work? Specifically."

She shrugs. "Yeah, no, but I guess you could say I work closely with someone-" she stops herself, "who has a pretty good hand in this business."

"You work for weather station?" I ask.

She smiles, shakes her head. "No. Don't worry about it, I'm probably just over reacting as always. Thinking people have more power than they have. Nobody was gonna pay attention to this," she gestures to the screen and crosses her arms, "anyway."

"Well maybe it'll blow over with at least as little damage to people as it can manage."

"Yeah, I doubt it." She goes up to a machine and pulls out her dry clothes, beginning to fold them for a wicker basket.

I look down at my phone, my mum's texted me and I groan inwardly as I text to let her know I'm okay. "What about you?" I hear the girl ask.

My eyebrows furrow. "What about me?"

"What do you care about?" She asks.

It's a strange question. What do I care about? "I guess the environment."

"You guess?" she pauses.

"I mean, yeah."

"That's not a lot of caring." She continues to fold her things into her basket without looking at me, reminding me of an old movie scene. "There's no passion in you guessing."

"I guess-" I stop, then shrug. "I don't care much about a lot of things right now." I admit. Something about the girl's demeanor changes, and I try but I can't read her expression. She seems weirdly different then and I try and find a time when I may've seen her like this. "That's a sad way to live. But I guess I get it."

I shrug awkwardly, shifting my weight on one foot. "I just can't find that passion I suppose."

"You know supposing is just guessing with a different style?"

"I'm surprised someone else does."

"Well. My advice. Find something worth fighting for. Fast." The jokingness fades from her eyes and she suddenly looks very serious, her tone almost a warning.

"Okay." I say. "I'll work on it."

"Good." She smiles, grabbing her basket and heading for the door. "I suppose I'm just not gonna get a name after that." I turn back to my wash and see there's still five minutes to wait for the dryer.

"It's Rosé." I hear a girl say. Turning around, I see the red head walking away without getting an answer from me. "Scorpious," I doubt she heard me.

When I'm done with my laundry I'm happy to fold my binders back into my backpack without incident. The laundromat is only a short walk and an even shorter bus ride from my house, but considering the fact that the next bus is an hour away I take my phone out and do the next best thing.

"Hey, George. You wanna get pizza with me? I'll pay if you drive."

#art #writeblr #my wips #the reincarnation series #wip #excerpts from my writing #stories #my characters #writing #lgbtq

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shimmerfall · 4 years ago

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Chapter 2: The Early Easy

"...so don't get rid of those heavy coats yet, folks, because even though we've dipped our toes into spring, this cool weather is here to stay for another few weeks..."

While the early morning newscast had been standard enough to treat as background noise, the volume at which the overly peppy weather person delivered their report was somewhat grating on the ears, and no doubt the opposite effect than what was intended by the bubbly demeanor.

Combined with the fact that all of this invasive noise was coming from the downstairs living room television, and had made its way through a purposefully closed door, the bedroom's sole occupant decided this was fate's subtle nudge for him to get his day properly started.

"Typha, come on down, breakfast is almost ready!"

And this, Typha surmised, was his uncle's far less subtle but admittedly more convincing attempt at motivation.

The young man sat up in his bed, blinking his eyes open and letting himself get used to the waking world. Though it was dark, he could still make out a few bits of his room from the scant pieces of light that made their way through his drawn curtains. A few posters lined his walls, and a bass guitar rested against his dresser. His laptop lay near his bed on an office chair next to his bed, and a large vanity mirror hung on the back of his door.

After mentally psyching up for the morning, he rolled out of bed and performed his morning routine of freshening up, then went about getting his backpack ready for school. Once that was finished, he threw on a pair of black pants with a white and blue shirt, and stood in front of the mirror for 'final checks'.

In the mirror, Typha saw a young man of average height. He had voluminous black hair with numerous curls, dark skin, and dark brown eyes. He had a somewhat youthful face, which he had, at one point, attempted to offset by growing out his facial hair. However, he wasn't able to grow either a full beard or a mustache, and ultimately decided that looking young was better than a series of desperate patches on his face.

Satisfied with his appearance, Typha slung his backpack over his shoulder and made his way downstairs. He could see his uncle preparing bacon and eggs in separate skillets over the stove while taking momentary looks back at the television. Typha took a moment to mute the TV, and the lack of volume finally alerted Markus to his nephew's presence.

"Zinniah had to leave early this morning, so you're rolling to school." Markus asked as he quickly placed four pieces of bread in the toaster before returning to his skillets.

'In the damn winter,' he thought, more than a little annoyed that he would have to be in the cold. However, he knew his aunt's job came before his discomfort. "No worries, I planned to anyway," Typha eventually said, leaning against the island countertop and waiting for Markus to finish preparing breakfast.

He wasn't terribly hungry this morning, but he knew the future version of him would appreciate the energy, and the current him would appreciate not hearing another ten minute lecture on the importance of a filling meal to start the day. He was tempted to ask his uncle to drop him off instead, but he'd already said he planned to go on his own. Plus, Typha knew the school was in the opposite direction from the gym where Markus worked, and he could hardly ask the man to inconvenience himself for his sake.

The toaster dinged, and Markus placed them on paper towels before retrieving two slices of cheese from the refrigerator. "Got a couple of loaded grilled cheese cooking, by the way."

"Huh?" Typha responded, as he was currently excavating a large thermal coat from the closet "Oh, uh, sure. Thanks, sounds good."

"Don't you think that's a little much, Ty?"

"Uncle Markus, it's like in the 50's or 60's today. I'm gonna feel the chill in my bones without it."

"Sure you don't want a hot cocoa to help fight off the cold?" Markus teased.

"Seriously? Cuz like, yeah, that actually sounds pretty good."

Markus looked up from washing dishes to give Typha a look. "Boy, shut up before I eat your sandwich."

"No hot chocolate and no breakfast? It's like I'm a common criminal over here." Typha walked to the front door, grabbing a now completed grilled cheese off the counter. "I'll accept this as an offering of forgiveness." Typha strapped on a pair of roller skates and waved goodbye to his uncle before heading out the door, breakfast in hand.

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There's something of an otherworldly quiet to a city early in the morning, long after the nightcrawlers find their way back home, but just before most of the rest of the populace rises to bring life back to the town. Chirping birds heralded the coming of a newborn sun, which bathed the city in an orange glow and offered a thin but effective blanket of warmth against the chill of dawn.

At this hour, the only souls awake to disrupt the peace of the morning do so only out of obligation, such as bakers preparing their goods for the day, radio DJ's constructing set lists for their time block, and delivery boys pelting their neighbors' front doors with the latest local news.

Along with high school students that insist on traveling to school using the halfway point between walking and cycling.

Typha considered this one of the few, almost nonexistent, times anyone could expect relative quiet outside in Brillarville. The only noticeable sound to him was his skates on the pavement as he lazily glided down the street, and the crunching of his grilled cheese as he enjoyed his breakfast.

He appreciated the lack of pedestrians and cars that usually crowded the city, removing the need for him to restrict himself to the designated bike lane, or attempt to weave through throngs of people on the sidewalk. The frigid air was a definite negative, but even borderline frigophobic that he was, even he wasn't as bothered by the temperature as he thought he'd be. Maybe his solo trips to school could restart in earnest sooner than he thought.

The route Typha took this morning gave him a clear view of Mount Seer, the tallest point in the city. The mountain's height was impressive enough, but a different feature made it the infamous local landmark of Brillarville. Two massive, glasslike shards protruded from the top of the landform, each about thirty meters high, with no one knowing how deeply embedded they were into the ground.

A common wager among younger children was to journey up the mountain and write their name on one the shards. Though there was never any proof of this actually happening, or even any indication that anyone ever tried, the rumors of it happening had scared enough parents into convincing the police to cordon off the entrance and put up a sign threatening heavy fines for anyone caught trespassing. Typha himself was never frightened of the place, but he had to admit, looking at the mountain from a distance did give it a kind of ominous aura.

Typha's trek to school took him away from his home on the west side and through a decent portion of downtown. The shift in architecture was gradual but noticeable, as smaller businesses with their names on the front of the store slowly gave way to franchises and massive buildings with no clear indication as to what went on inside them.

Downtown Brillarville wasn't all large buildings of vague purpose. Typha passed several independently owned stores that looked like they belonged back on the west side, but were popular or essential enough to survive the harsher financial demands of downtown.

Coming up on a corner, he stuck his hand out to grab a light post and turn down a new street, where the sight of one of the aforementioned stores, a normally humble looking convenience store came into view.

The owner, Jorge Wellon, sunk a decent amount of money into a high end coffee maker that he stuck at the front of his store, and allowed time combined with man's dependence on caffeine to make him back his investment and then some.

Typha was aware of all of this, and normally wouldn't have looked twice at Wellon's Express. However, while the store was usually fit with the rest of the buildings around it, it stood out harshly that morning. One reason could have been that the inside was still dark so close to its hours of operation, which was a tad bit strange to anyone who paid attention, as Mr. Wellon was very serious about his opening schedule.

Another could have been the obnoxious, brightly colored yellow lizard with a crown sitting atop large, equally bright yellow letters that spelled out "REX" on one of the pale gray building's outer walls.

Typha couldn't suppress a disgusted groan at seeing the artwork. Not for any sort of altruistic stance against graffiti, nor an aching sympathy for Mr. Wellon, despite liking him enough to wish another building had been tagged instead. No, Typha had the distinct honor, accompanied by the distinct headache, of being familiar with this specific piece of modern artwork.

More importantly, with the artist.

Quite suddenly, Typha's casual trip to school became far more energized, and filled with sharp purpose. Sharp, annoyed purpose.

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Students were already filtering into the building by the time Typha skidded to a stop on the sidewalk leading to the school. However, he knew his target well enough to know there was little chance they had already made it inside. He took a seat on a bench near the front doors, and switched his skates with a pair of shoes from his backpack.

Typha expected he'd have to wait until the attendance bell rang before handling his current situation, but that time table was cut thankfully short as he saw a shaggy looking student wearing a red beanie and a large gray hoodie ride a skateboard towards the school. Typha rose to meet the young man, who did not seem to be slowing down as he approached.

"Yo, Ty, brake me bro!" the young man shouted as he barreled towards Typha.

Who promptly sidestepped the incoming teenager, allowing him to ram into a metal handrail. The skateboarder impacted with a ringing thud, laying crumpled over the rail for a few seconds as he recovered from having the wind knocked out of him.

"Morning, Rex," Typha said as the skater removed himself from the rail.

After a few coughs, Rex responded. "What the hell, bro? Didn't you hear me ask you to stop me?"

"All I heard was the sound of someone who needs to remember how to skate safely. And don't call me Ty."

"Come on, yo, don't be lame—"

Typha held his hand up to interrupt Rex. "I saw what you did outside of Wellon's place."

"Yo, you came to school on skates today? Why didn't you hit me up, we could've come together." Rex was interrupted again, this time by Typha pulling his beanie down over his face, followed by slapping Rex's forehead.

"What the hell's the problem, dude?!" Rex asked, pulling his beanie up.

Typha pinched the bridge of his nose before answering. "You tagged the store with your signature."

The skater looked puzzled, not yet understanding what he'd done to earn a head slap. "Yeah, it looks sick, so what?

"Dumbass, your signature is your real name."

Rex at least had the awareness to look sheepish at this point, rubbing the back of his head. "Okay, so I was in a hurry right? Like I had to go quick cuz I'd been at Tiffany's, and the folks were gonna freak if I came back too late again. And I was, like, havin' a block, ya know, I wasn't feelin' anything special. So I just went with what I know the best. And yo, you gotta admit it was pretty clean, right?"

"Yeah, that's another thing," Typha said. "Why Wellon's place at all? There's tons of space down by the levees, and more than enough buildings not owned by people who know who you are."

"But Wellon's is freakin' prime real estate, dawg." They both began making their way into the school as Rex continued explaining. "People always go by that place, no better way to let the streets know who they belong to."

Typha let out an exasperated sigh. "This is a busy city, Rex. No one pays any real attention to stuff like a bit of graffiti on the side of a shop. And the only people who will notice are people who want it gone."

"...Alright, his old lady got all pissy cuz I rode my board inside the place a couple days ago, but that's like, only half the reason."

"I'm gonna say this once, because I didn't think it ever needed to be said," Typha began, placing a hand on Rex's shoulder. "If you wanna mark up a bunch of buildings, go crazy. Turn the city into your canvas, I don't care. But don't do it alone, and I know you did it alone, because Rico wouldn't have let you sign it with your name. And especially don't do it using the same tag you use in videos you put on the internet."

"Oh shit, that reminds me, we still good for this Thursday?" Rex asked, "Rico said there's this sick spot on the north side, perfect for a shoot."

"You..." Typha stared at Rex's face, who was clearly waiting for an answer and seemingly completely oblivious to his warning. "...Yeah. Yeah, I'm good for it."

"Nice. Hey, I'll catch you later man, I gotta head to class. Stay chill, dude." Rex took off down the hall to his first period, leaving Typha alone to reflect on where things went wrong during that conversation.

Eventually deciding he did everything correctly, Typha headed to his own first class of the day.

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The bell for the second half of the day's classes sounded down the halls as Typha entered the library. His first period for the afternoon was an independent study hall, which was the school's way of offering its senior students time in the day to consult with career counselors, work on final semester projects, or continue progress on any other school related endeavors.

In practice, most students used it as a mental break from the rest of the school day, wandering the halls or spending time on the grounds outside. The only caveat to this setup was the unspoken but heavily implied warning by the administration of "don't make us regret letting you do this", which most seniors had the sense to heed.

Typha would often take this time to find a quiet corner of the library to catch up on sleep and risk missing his last class of the day, having eventually come to an understanding with the school librarian that her jurisdiction should be a place to enjoy both literature and relaxation. Today, however, he wasn't feeling particularly tired, so he decided to partake in the fulfilling and worthwhile pastime of mindlessly browsing the internet until the bell rang.

Easily finding an open computer, Typha logged on and let the muse of the internet take him, which simply meant he didn't have a clear objective and would just look at whatever was popular. The school blocked social media websites for the most part, but they didn't restrict access to VidMeo, a popular video sharing website. Something about ease of access for teachers, but whatever the reason, it was a good time waster. Once on the site, he scrolled through some of the trending videos, but they were either ones he'd already seen, or seemed completely uninteresting.

As he was scrolling, his eyes caught a video of an interesting news report titled 'Multi-Million Dollar Company Faces Scrutiny in Wake of Attack'. The video's name was indeed one that piqued curiosity, but the fact that a video from a local news station in Michigan was able to reach the trending page the same day it was posted was unique in and of itself. With nothing better to do, Typha clicked on the video to see what about it was so special.

Pressing play, Typha saw a group of men in blue uniforms, the sight tickling something in the back of his mind that he couldn't quite place. Eventually, the men came upon another guy in a white lab coat, who pulled something out of his pocket, then tossed it at the men in uniforms, who spasmed and fell over.

"Authorites and eye witness reports say," the news anchor voice over said as the scene changed to a close up of the lab coat man's hand, "that the suspect used this strange device to incapacitate the Jury members you see here. When questioned about the device's origin..."

Typha paused the video, staring intently at the disc shaped device in the attacker's hand. Almost unblinkingly, he looked it over, taking in every detail he could before he allowed his mind to go anywhere that would lead him to disappointment.

'Same basic design,' Typha thought, 'and from what I can tell, same shape. But there's nothing engraved on it. Plus, he's holding it bare handed. It's definitely based on the real thing, but it's gotta be fake.' He zoomed out of the video and allowed it to play again. He noticed a bit more information elaborating on the event, particularly about Greensly himself.

"Huh," Typha said quietly to himself, reading out Greensly's former place of work from the scrolling news banner. "Verbradyne..."

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Absolutely forgot to put the link for this shillfest in the last one, but better now than never. If you read any of this, thank you for your time. Much, much, much more to come.

https://www.wattpad.com/user/GranShine

#novel #writing #fiction #shimmerfall

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