#now excuse me while i have the 'we have food at home' conversation with myself

[novelmonger]

Comparing burger chains to CGI animation companies

...because I can, that's why.

[hd-junglebook]

My Sunshine

Part 1 - rewrite of the original

Warnings - pregnancy, flirting, verbal abuse, gaslighting, slight mention of prostitution, unwanted pregnancy, abortion, crying, banana muffins

a:n I'm so in love with the way that this came out, I could literally faint. I want to this man. ferally. In the most respectful way that I can put it. Had me giggling like a SLUT. Like look at that face, come on..

Masterlist Link

GIF by jonasiegenthaler

Summary: Y/N reminisces about her past, the faint memory of her hateful mother as reality starts to really sink in. Along comes jack and his giddy smile, eager to get to know our dear sunshine.

Word Count ~ 4k

1 month later

10:00am

The doctor's voice cuts through the heavy silence, their tone professional yet laced with a hint of warmth. "While we wait for the results, can you tell me the date of your last menstrual period and any potential dates of conception?"

Y/N takes a deep, steadying breath, her mind instantly transported back to the haunting echoes of her mother's cruel words. The memories feel so visceral, as if the scenes are playing out before her eyes once more.

"I wish one day, you could see why I raised you the way I did. You're so weak, gullible, and always so goddamn sensitive. It's pathetic, really." Her mother's voice drips with disdain, the familiar sting of her judgement cutting deep.

Y/N can practically feel the weight of her mother's disapproving stare, the contempt burning in her eyes. "Just like your useless father, y/n. You've never been and will never be good enough, not like me."

"You will need me one day, when you have a baby, you're gonna wish I was the one there helping you, holding your hand. But I won't be, because you've always been a disappointment, a burden I never wanted." The thought of facing motherhood without the unwavering support she so desperately craves fills Y/N with dread.

"I hate you, y/n, and I wish I would've gotten rid of you when I had the chance. I never regretted anything more than letting your useless father talk me into keeping you. I lost my whole life raising you - I slaved and sold myself to put food on the table, all for you ungrateful little shits." The bitterness in her mother's voice is palpable, a raw wound that has never fully healed.

Forcing the memories to the back of her mind, Y/N provides the doctor with the requested information to the best of her recollection.

A knot forms in her stomach as the details flow from her lips, a painful reminder of the intimate moments with Jason - moments that had once filled her with such joy and hope, but now only serve to heighten her anxiety.

The doctor nods, jotting down the notes on their clipboard. They continue the conversation, their tone gentle and understanding, offering Y/N a sense of comfort in the midst of the emotional turmoil.

After what feels like an eternity, they excuse themselves to check on the test results. The room falls silent, save for the ticking of the clock – each second a countdown to the life-changing news that awaits Y/N.

When the doctor returns, they have a file in hand. Taking a seat beside Y/N, they meet her gaze, their expression softening with a warmth that puts her at ease, even as her heart races in anticipation.

"Y/N," they begin gently, their voice filled with empathy, "the urine test came back positive for hCG. Congratulations, you're pregnant." The doctor pauses, studying Y/N's face for a moment before continuing. "I understand this may be an overwhelming time, but I want you to know that we're here to support you every step of the way."

Y/N feels her breath catch in her throat, the news hitting her like a physical blow.

Part of her had hoped, prayed, that the results would be negative, that the at home test she took a few weeks ago were wrong, that she wouldn't have to face the daunting prospect of motherhood, especially without Jason's support.

But now, as the reality of her situation sinks in, she can't help but feel utterly alone, trapped in the shadow of her mother's cruelty. Following down the same path she did when she was 18 but only she was 23, grown, and by herself.

"What am I going to do?" she whispers, tears falling to the ground.

A sudden movement in front of her face snapped Y/N out of her trance, her body jolting in response. "I'm sorry," she blurted out, hastily wiping the tears from her eyes.

The doctor slid back onto his stool, a warm smile on his face as he handed her a stack of pamphlets. "I’m very happy for you," he said, mistaking her tears for joy. "Here are some resources for young mothers. I know this must be an exciting, but overwhelming time. Please don't hesitate to reach out if you have any questions or concerns."

Y/N stared at the man, momentarily confused, until the reality of the situation came crashing back.

…

11:30am

Y/N stood in line at 'The Brew' coffee shop, the warm, inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloping her like a comforting embrace, soft Russian music playing over the stereo. The rich scent of roasted beans mingled with the subtle sweetness of vanilla and caramel, instantly lifting her spirits.

As she waited patiently, her eyes wandered to the man next to her, who seemed lost in thought. He was engrossed in a conversation on his phone, his brow furrowed in concentration, creating a series of deep lines that etched themselves into his forehead.

He shuffled his feet nervously, the movement causing the light to catch on the polished leather of his shoes. His gaze flickered to the menu before him, a brief moment of indecision flashing across his face, and Y/N found herself wondering what could be troubling him.

Unable to resist the urge to learn more, she stole a glance at him, admiring the way the soft, golden light of the café danced across his features. The angles of his jawline were sharp and defined, a stark contrast to the soft, inviting curve of his lips that seemed to beckon her closer.

As if sensing her gaze, he suddenly turned, and their eyes met. In that instant, the world seemed to slow down, the bustling noise of the café fading into the background as Y/N was enveloped in a moment of pure connection. His eyes, a mesmerizing blue, held her captive, sparkling with a hint of mischief that ignited a spark within her.

A confident smile spread across his face, and he leaned away slightly, speaking into the phone. “Alright Lukey, I gotta go.”

"Hey, you're my neighbor, right?" he asked, the recognition evident in his tone. "You live on Baker Street?"

Y/N blinked, surprised by his sudden acknowledgment. "Yes, I do."

Yet, as she spoke, Y/N felt her shyness begin to melt away, like frost under the warmth of his unwavering gaze. There was a magnetic pull to this stranger, an allure that she found herself inexplicably drawn to.

"I'm Jack," he said, extending his hand towards her. His movements were fluid and graceful, his arm cutting through the space between them with a sense of purpose.

As he reached out, Y/N couldn't help but notice the way his fingers flexed, the tendons in his hand shifting beneath his skin like the strings of a finely tuned instrument.

Hesitating for only a moment, Y/N slipped her hand into his, relishing the gentle firmness of his grip. "It's nice to meet you, Jack," she replied, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she held his gaze, unwilling to be the first to break the connection.

He leaned against the counter, his gaze locked on Y/N, as if she was the only person in the crowded coffee shop. "I've been wondering when I'd get the chance to officially introduce myself."

Y/N felt her cheeks flush with heat, suddenly keenly aware of his undivided attention. "I, um, I'm not usually one for small talk," she admitted, her words coming out in a flustered jumble.

Jack chuckled, the sound low and rich. "Lucky for you, I more than make up for that." He flashed her a dazzling smile, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "I'm quite the chatterbox, as I'm sure you're about to find out."

Caught off guard by his confidence, Y/N found herself relaxing, drawn in by his easy charm. As the line moved forward, she fell into step beside him, her shoulders brushing against his as they approached the counter.

"So, what's your order of choice?" Jack asked, his gaze sweeping over the menu. "I'm a bit of a coffee connoisseur myself."

Y/N blinked, momentarily flustered by his proximity. "Um, usually anything caramel flavored, I think," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m leaning towards tea today though.”

Jack's lips curved into a grin. "Excellent choice. A classic, just like you."

"Can I have a banana muffin? And whatever she's getting, we're together." Jack said, flashing the barista a charming smile.

The barista nodded, punching in the order as Y/N stood there, momentarily stunned by Jack's gesture. She managed to give a small smile, her heart pounding erratically in her chest.

"After you," Jack said, gesturing towards the pickup counter. He placed a gentle hand on the small of her back, guiding her forward.

Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine at his touch, her nerves alight. As they waited for their order, Jack turned to her, his sapphire eyes sparkling. “Just a green tea please. And a banana muffin too.” She added, meeting jack’s eyes for a second.

"Such a gentleman," y/n teased. Jack laughed, flashing her a wink. He turned towards the seating area, gesturing for Y/N to follow. "Come on, let's find a cozy spot."

Y/N felt herself being drawn along by his infectious energy, her feet moving almost of their own accord as she trailed behind him. He led them to a small table by the window, pulling out a chair for her before taking a seat across from her.

She didn’t know what to do with herself as she took the seat he offered, settling in across from him. The way he was looking at her, with such open curiosity and intrigue, made her heart race.

"So, Y/N, tell me - what brings you to this fine establishment on this lovely day?" Jack asked, leaning back in his chair and regarding her with a playful smile.

Y/N felt herself relax slightly under his warm gaze. "Just my usual coffee run, nothing too exciting," she admitted shyly.

"Ah, but any day that starts with a chance encounter like this is anything but ordinary," Jack countered, his eyes twinkling. "You've got nowhere else to be, right? No urgent errands or appointments calling your name?"

Y/N shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "No, nothing pressing that I can think of."

"Excellent." Jack leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table as he studied her intently. "Then you won't mind if I take the opportunity to learn more about the mysterious neighbor from Baker Street?"

…

Jack's eyes crinkled with delight as the barista arrived with their order, setting down a steaming latte in front of Y/N and a banana muffin alongside it.

"Ah, perfect timing," he said, flashing the barista a grateful smile. The scent of the baked treat mingled with the rich aroma of coffee, creating a tantalizing combination that did little to calm her already frazzled nerves.

Glancing down at her phone, she quickly typed out a message to her friend Heather, her fingers trembling slightly. 'You're never going to believe this, but this unbelievably gorgeous guy just bought me a coffee and we're sitting at a table together! I'm honestly freaking out right now - I have no idea what to do.'

She hit send, her fingers trembling slightly as she placed the phone back on the table, unsure of what to do next.

Y/N couldn't help but sneak a peek at Jack, who was leaning back in his chair, a warm smile playing on his lips as he took a contemplative sip of his own coffee. The way the morning light danced across his striking features only served to heighten his already captivating presence.

 "So, Y/N, what do you do for a living?" he asked, his gaze warm and curious. "I have a feeling there's more to you than just your 'usual coffee run'." His gaze latched back onto hers, his eyes sparkling with genuine curiosity.

Y/N felt heat rise to her cheeks at his words, both flattered and flustered by his obvious interest. "Well, I, uh, I sometimes write for a sports magazine," she stammered, her heart fluttering erratically. "And I'm also working on a couple of novels in my spare time."

Jack's face lit up with delight, and he leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table as he studied her intently. "A writer, huh? That's incredibly impressive. What kind of sports do you cover?"

"A little bit of everything, really," Y/N replied, slowly beginning to relax under the warmth of his gaze. "But I do have a particular fondness for hockey as of recently. There's just something about the intensity of the game that I find absolutely captivating. The fighting, the crowd, just a mix of all of it."

"Hockey, you say?" Jack's eyes gleamed with unbridled enthusiasm. "Well, as it happens, I'm a bit of a hockey player myself. I actually play for the Jersey Devils as a defenseman."

Y/N's eyes widened in genuine surprise, her earlier nerves temporarily forgotten. "What! Well, tell me about it. Do you enjoy it?"

Jack chuckled, the rich sound sending a shiver down Y/N's spine. "Well, then I'd be more than happy to regale you with tales of my hockey exploits." He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "But only if you promise to share some of your own stories in return."

She extended her pinky, a silent invitation, waiting for him to entwine his with hers, sealing their promise in a tender gesture.

Jack gently raised his hand to the table, his eyes fixed on hers, as he tenderly entwined his larger pinky with hers, sealing their promise with a heartfelt gesture.

The two fell into an easy conversation, trading stories and sharing their passions. Y/N found herself captivated by Jack's easy charm and infectious enthusiasm, and before long, the lunch rush began to fill the coffee shop.

"Maybe I should let you get back to your day," Y/N said reluctantly, glancing around at the growing crowd, a twinge of disappointment tugging at her heart.

But Jack's eyes held a glimmer of pleading, and he reached across the table, his fingers brushing against hers in a gesture that sent electricity coursing through her veins.

"Or you could stay a little longer?" he suggested, his voice low and hopeful. "I'm quite enjoying our chat, and I'd hate for it to end so soon."

Y/N hesitated, her heart palpitating in its cage. This was all so unexpected, but there was something about Jack that made her want to throw caution to the wind.

Taking a deep breath, she offered him a shy smile, her nerves and excitement mingling in equal measure. "You know, I think I'd like that. And maybe, if you're free sometime, we could, um, grab dinner?"

Jack's face lit up with a dazzling smile. "I'd love nothing more," he said, quickly pulling out his phone. "Here, let me give you my number. I can't wait to take you out."

As Jack typed away, Y/N felt a surge of giddiness. This was all so new and exciting, and she couldn't help but wonder where this chance encounter might lead. One thing was certain, though – she was more than ready to find out.

Jack made her feel - seen, heard, and utterly captivated.

…

14:00 pm

I debated including this, but I felt so giddy and in love with writing I couldn’t help it. I’m just a sucker for some pure love.

***A gentle breeze caressed her face, carrying with it the scent of springtime The world around her seemed to burst with vibrant color - the lush, verdant hues of the trees, their leaves rustling softly in the breeze.

The myriad shades of pink and purple adorning the blooming flowers that lined the sidewalk, and the vast, azure sky overhead, dotted with wispy clouds that danced languidly across the heavens.

It was as if the entire city had been painted with a master's brush, each detail a testament to nature's radiant beauty.

Reaching into her bag, she pulled out her camera, her fingers trembling with excitement as she began to weave through the bustling streets.

In the nearby park, she captured the laughter of happy families, their faces aglow with pure, unadulterated joy as they swung gleefully on the playground or tossed a Frisbee back and forth, their movements fluid and carefree.

Further down the path, a lonely man sat on a bench, tossing a well-worn tennis ball to his faithful canine companion. As the dog bounded after it, his tail wagging furiously, a warm smile spread across the man's face, his eyes crinkling with a contentment that seemed to radiate outwards, touching all who witnessed the tender exchange.

Y/N couldn't resist the urge to capture these fleeting moments, her camera shutter clicking rapidly as she sought to preserve the beauty that surrounded her.

Every step she took seemed to reveal another breathtaking sight - a young couple sharing a picnic lunch on the lush, verdant grass, their bodies intertwined as they leaned into one another's embrace, and a group of elderly friends chatting animatedly on a park bench, their laughter carrying on the gentle breeze.

Each snapshot felt like a love letter to the world, Y/N's heart swelled with a sense of wonder, her steps light and airy as she continued her walk home.

With each snapshot she captured, she couldn't help but see the reflection of Jack in the scenes that unfolded before her.

The joyful laughter of the families in the park reminded her of the way Jack's eyes had crinkled with delight during their conversation. The lonely man's smile as he played with his dog mirrored the warmth and kindness that Jack had exuded so effortlessly.

And the tender embrace of the picnicking couple evoked the gentle way Jack's fingers had brushed against her own, sending electricity coursing through her veins.

It was as if the entire world had conspired to remind her of the captivating man she had just met, weaving his essence into the very fabric of her surroundings.

Y/N found herself wondering what she and Jack must have looked like, huddled together in the cozy coffee shop, their heads bent close as they shared stories and laughter like old friends.

The thought brought a smile to her lips, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of giddiness at the realization that this chance encounter had the potential to blossom into something truly special. Jack's colors had painted the world around her, and she couldn't wait to see what other hues he might bring into her life.***

…

14:30 pm

Y/N closed the door behind her, the solid wood frame pressing against her back as she leaned into it, letting out a deep, contented breath.

A smile slowly crept across her face, unbidden and unwilling, as she buried her face in her hands, momentarily overcome by the whirlwind of emotions swirling within her.

Slowly, almost reverently, her hands drifted down to her stomach, fingertips gently caressing the barely-there swell that held the promise of new life.

"Maybe this can be good for us," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking the words aloud would somehow make them more real.

Suddenly, a flash of self-consciousness washed over her, and Y/N felt a flush of embarrassment creeping up her cheeks. Had she really just been giddily daydreaming like some lovestruck schoolgirl?

The moment of levity was short-lived, however, as a familiar voice broke the silence, cutting through the haze of her thoughts.

"You just gonna stand there and be weird, or are you gonna come sit down?" Heather said, a teasing lilt in her tone.

Y/N's head snapped up, a sheepish look crossing her features as she nodded and made her way to the couch, her steps tentative and uncertain. "Sorry, I, uh, I was just..." Her voice trailed off, unsure of how to even begin explaining the maelstrom of emotions that had overtaken her.

Heather watched her fondly, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "You're being strange today," she observed, her tone laced with affection. "But I can't say I'm surprised, considering what you told me earlier."

Y/N could feel the heat rising in her cheeks as she settled onto the cushions, her movements almost cautious, as if she were trying to contain the giddiness that threatened to spill out.

Unable to keep the grin from spreading across her face, she shook her head in a half-hearted attempt to downplay her excitement. "I know, I know," she said, the words tumbling out in a rush. "It's just... I haven’t felt this way in a long time and it’s exciting, you know?"

Heather chuckled, reaching out to give Y/N's hand a gentle squeeze, her eyes crinkling with warmth and understanding. "I can see that.”

…

19:47 pm

Later that night, Y/N ran her fingers lovingly over the smooth surface of her stomach, the gesture almost reverent as she finished her nightly cleansing routine.

Just as she set down her phone, the familiar chime of a new message caught her attention, and a giddy smile instantly blossomed on her face as she saw Jack's name on the screen.

Sinking into the soft cushions of the couch, Y/N eagerly opened the message, her heart fluttering with anticipation.

"Hey there, beautiful," Jack's text read, the words sending a flutter through Y/N's chest. "I was just thinking about you and that lovely smile of yours. How about we make it a date tomorrow night? I know this amazing little Italian place that I think you're going to love."

Y/N's fingers hovered over the screen, poised to type a response, but a twinge of hesitation gripped her. The news of her pregnancy weighed heavily on her mind, a secret that both excited and frightened her in equal measure.

She knew she should tell him, but doubt crept in, insidious and persistent. After all, she and Jack weren't even officially dating yet. Their relationship, while promising, was still new and undefined.

The thought of burdening him with this life-altering news so early on felt unfair, potentially derailing the tender connection they had begun to forge. What if the prospect of fatherhood sent him running?

Shaking off her doubts, Y/N decided to throw caution to the wind. "A date, huh? Well, you certainly know how to sweep a girl off her feet," she typed, adding a flirtatious wink emoji for good measure before hitting send.

Almost immediately, her phone chimed with Jack's response, and Y/N could practically hear the warmth and charm in his voice. "Only the best for my favorite writer," he replied, followed by a string of heart-eyed emojis. "I'll pick you up at 7 sharp. Dress to impress, beautiful."

Y/N couldn't help but grin, a giddiness bubbling up inside her. "It's a date," she replied, adding a playful wink emoji for good measure.

As she set her phone aside, Y/N couldn't help but marvel at the whirlwind of emotions coursing through her.

Just hours ago, she had been a bundle of nerves, unsure of how to navigate this newfound connection. But now, with Jack's invitation in hand, she felt a renewed sense of excitement and possibility.

Sure, the news of her pregnancy was daunting, but she couldn't help but wonder if, just maybe, this could be the start of something truly special.

After all, Jack had already shown himself to be a charming, attentive, and genuinely interested companion. Perhaps, with a little bit of courage, she could find the right moment to share this life-changing news with him.

…

Tag List <3

@fearfam69691 @alwaysclassyeagle, @rebelatbay, @dancerbailey3

@snailss, @dasiysthings, @shawnshoney

[thatbanditqueen]

Basic Training

I Don't Date Soldiers

A new fic, possibly a new WIP, about Elvis' life at Fort Hood. Let me know what you think.

Summary: Bess is a smart, young secretary working for the Commander of Army Intelligence training at Fort Hood, dreaming of a life beyond the military one she has always known. That's why she doesn't date soldiers, they only break your heart, and she is looking ahead to something better. One Friday night in March, she stumbles in to the new draftee who's turned the base upside down, and in a moment of weakness, decides to try and help him sleep. Just this once.

Warnings: None, fluffy and angst combined, but innocent. For now. There are a lot of typos.

Word Count: 4.8 K

Some notes: Probably good to know the acronyms, every Army base has a chain of command, and at the top sit the Commanding Officer (CO), the Executive Officer (XO), and a bunch of other officers, of different rank denoted by their ascending O rank, from 1 to 10. WAC - Women's Army Corps, established in WWII, their was a sizeable WAC presence at Fort Hood in 1958. Oh, and Killeen is the closest city to Fort Hood and Austin, TX is about an hour away. Also I really wanted this to take place on a Friday night, but also have had Elvis at the base for two nights, so I gave myself creative license to make March 30, 1958 a Friday. Just don't look it up and we'll be fine.

This fic was inspired by the writing prompt:

Many thanks to my beautiful sister-wives-in-arms whose advice support and love make being an Elvis girl possible and fun, @be-my-ally @vintageshanny @from-memphis-with-love @ellie-24 @powerofelvis @missmaywemeetagain and @whositmcwhatsit, from whom I have stolen her trademarked description of Elvis' awkward manner of kissing half on the cheek half on the lips like a goofy weirdo who was never taught how to kiss right so he decided to make up his own style. And thanks for reading and connecting with me here, the Elvis fandom is the best and I love our community!

Friday, March 30, 1958

9 p.m. at Sal's Cafe

Bess pushed her veal marsala from one side of her plate to the other, feeling the vibrations of her fork scrape across the bottom of the plate. The place checked off all the requisite Italian restaurant requirements: checkered table cloth, candle in an old wine bottle, violin player sawing away at a classical reinterpretation of “That’s Amore.” But the brown sauce, and the meat it was congealing around, was inedible. It was the sort of food that begged the question “why not stay in and cook at home?”

“I said, don’t you think, Bess honey? You follow that stuff, dontcha?”

Bess looked up at her friend Dori’s face, realizing she had drifted off daydreaming of a future far away from Killeen, away from her job at Fort Hood, away from the Army, away from officers, like the ones sitting across from them. Away from soldiers in general.

“What, Khrushchev? Well, I think we all knew he wasn’t going to take the threat laying down.”

Dori hit Bess' shoulder lightly, smiling at their dates, two officers from Army Intelligence.

“No, y’all will havta excuse my friend here, she still thinks she’s studying political science in Austin. You’d think a year of civilian life would make her normal again, huh?”

Dori flipped her blonde hair and drawled on.

“No, silly goose, no one here is interested in that Russian stuff, we’re talking about Mike Todd. What do you think poor Elizabeth Taylor is going to do now that her husband's dead?”

Bess tried very hard not to roll her eyes. Dori was right, she read the movie gossip magazines, but her friend’s distraught, serious expression had made her think they were discussing something with a little more gravitas. The recent atomic weapons testing, or Russian political shifts, the stuff at the top of her New York Times front page everyday. But why would any one in the Army want to talk about that?

Bess smiled at her date and tried to focus on the conversation at hand. Later in the bathroom, Dori chided her while applying a fresh coat of lipstick onto Bess’ mouth.

“I wish you would try to be polite.”

“Dori, you know I am breaking my rule here with you. I don’t date soldiers. I have two goals I'm focusing on: get into law school and shake off these twenty pounds. ”

Bess rubbed her hands over her waist.

“Rules were made to be broken, Bessie Pie, and you look great, men like a girl with a jiggle, I think you look like a brunette Jayne Mansfield.”

“Hardly. You’re Mansfield and Monroe rolled into one.”

“Don't sell yourself short. I know you were fixin' to marry that boy last year, and now all you talk about is law school this, politics that. Don’t you wanna get married? We're not getting any younger.”

“I’m twenty three. Same as you.”

“Eggg zactly. Sure, it seems young now, but you're gonna blink and be thirty and single, with nothing but your degrees to keep you company. You already have a good job now. I just know you’d set this law school thing aside if you met the right guy.”

“Of course I wanna get married, someday. But not now. You’re the one in a hurry to quit your job and settle down, not me.”

“I don’t have a job.”

“See, you’re half way there, Doreen. Me, I’m not giving up my goals for Captain Smarmy out there. How did you even meet these ones?”

Dori steadied her self on Bess’ shoulder.

“Stop moving, or this lipstick won’t be straight. I met them outside the PX, I thought they were cute. Arnie knew who you were, he was the one who suggested we all go out. He really likes you, I can tell - “

“Yeah, he was just in my pop's office lobbying for an assignment, he doesn’t like me. He is using me.  There’s a difference, I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”

“So what if he was? Maybe he saw you there and couldn’t get you out of his mind. He’s good looking, smart, he’s already an O3 —”

Bess stopped her friend’s hand, and fixed her hair in the mirror, pushing up her bust and sighing at the rounder curves that had been widening at her waist since she’d graduated from college and settled into a very sedentary, very single, and currently very celibate life living back at home and working for her father. She turned to look at Dori who was waiting to blot Bess' lips with a tissue like the sweet girl she always had been. For Dori, a fresh coat of perfectly applied lipstick fixed all of life’s problems.

“Look, Captain whatever out there is only here for six months or so for training, then he's off to Heidelberg. That’s why I don’t date soldiers anymore. I’ve learned from my mistakes. I’m waiting for you to catch up.”

Bess gave her dark curls one last fluff.

“How’d you get these suckers to come out on a double date anyway? They aren’t scared of your father?”

Dori avoided eye contact as she smoothed her blonde bouffant and pursed her lips, then looked at Bess in the mirror.

“They don’t know.”

“How do they not know your father is the CO?”

Dori shrugged, then pinched Bess as they walked out of the ladies’ room.

“Don’t tell, ok? Let’s just have fun. What if you fall madly in Arnie? And he asked you to marry him and go to Germany with him?”

Bess snorted as they walked out to the men waiting for them in the restaurant lobby and Dori's eyes took on a knowing look.

“Hmm, so that’s big fat ol ‘no’ to dancing tonight, I’m guessin’?”

Bess nodded.

“Please at least tell me you aren’t going home to work on that boring research project?”

Bess smiled mischievously. “Professor Blotke agreed to help me, it’s going to be my submission sample for Georgetown. Papa took Mama to D.C. with him for his meetings, so I have the house practically to myself. It's just Kay and me, and she’s probably already asleep. I just have to grab a new typewriter back on post, I busted mine.”

Dori shook her disapproving of Bess’ plans for the night, then turned to greet their escorts with her usual vivacious pleasantries. Bess smiled at Dori's ability to interact with the men so casually and intimately, sliding her hands through both of officer's arms as they walked to the car. She considered how different she was from her girlfriend, despite the fact that they were both twenty three year old daughters of career Army officers. Every relationship she'd been in seemed to occur in spite of her inability to feel at ease or flirt with boys.

The conversation turned to recent events at Fort Hood as they walked.

“So,” Dori exhaled, squeezing herself against her date. “Has anyone seen Elvis yet?”

Bess pounded her foot a little harder into the concrete, hearing that name now provoked instant irritation.

“Ughh, no. It’s only been what, three days, and honestly I wish he’d been sent somewhere else for training. All I do is answer calls about him. It is driving me up the wall and I can’t get anything done. He’s turned the whole base upside down. Must have been a hundred cars parked outside the main gate, all scattered around the fields. It’s a security issue. I just —"

“Well, that’s not his fault Bess, and I think it's great. I wanna to meet him, don’t y’all?” Dori looked at the officers on her arms.

Arnie smiled a big dumb smile as he looked at Dori’s bouncing breasts and agreed. “I think it’s good for the Army, boy, I just - I just wish we could get the other enlisted to lay off him.”

“What do you mean?”

Bess felt the pit of her stomach tense as she thought of the thousands of green little boys running around base on edge with no external distractions for entertainment.

“Yeah, the boys’ have been giving him a hard time, shouting out when he runs during PT, or at the chow hall. There’s some concern he hasn’t been coming to eat all his meals cuz a the way they’ve been taunting him.”

Bess sighed, her irritation dissipating momentarily into sympathy as she considered how hungry and lonely Elvis Presley must be. Then she remembered that she was hungry, hungry because all the good restaurants had been filled up tonight by people trying to catch a glimpse of him. Elvis was the reason the only benefit from breaking her vow against dating a soldier, the free meal, had been a bust. She wondered if it was going to be this crazy around town for the next six months while he was here.

“I feel sorry for the poor kid, I do. But I still wish he was some other base’s problem.”

***********************************************************

Back on post, Arnie asked Bess for the fourth time if she wouldn’t like him to come help her carry the typewriter to her car. Then they could meet the others at the night club.

Beth pursed her lips with a demure smile.  “I think I can handle a typewriter, Captain, I use them all day.”

Dori chimed in with a reminder that it was Friday night and they were only young once, but Bess put them off, grinning as she heard Dori exclaim that both men would just have to dance with her all night.

“Two gorgeous officers all to myself,  what eva shall I do?”

Free at last, Bess drove her car to the supply building, and snuck in the back door carrying the type writer that she had been using at home, the big sticker along the bottom reading “Property of U.S. Army” evident as she held the machine under her arm to unlock the door. Bess slipped off her heels at the door so that they didn’t click down the dark hallways, and she easily scurried in to slip the broken machine into the repair center and help herself to a new model, grabbing a few spools of typewriter ribbon and a package of paper on the way out. Balancing everything as she locked up to leave,  Bess smiled at the cool air on her sweaty arm pits and laughed to herself for pulling this stealth operation in a tight green cocktail dress and pumps.

“A better use of this outfit anyway, I’d say.” She muttered to herself, sheathing her right foot back into her white heel with a sense of pride that she’d managed to get in, get the new machine, and would probably be home before 11 p.m. Bess had propped her self up against the building to slip her left foot into the other shoe when she heard a voice behind her call out.

“Uh, hey, need any help there?”

Startled, she almost toppled over, catching herself at the last moment by dropping everything in her hands.

“OWW fuck fuck fuck a duck!

She screamed in pain as the typewriter clanged down on her bare left foot and she almost knocked heads with the tall, gangly soldier who squatted down on front of her at the same time to try and help her retrieve her supplies.

"Oh man, I sure am sorry, listen -"

“At ease, uh Private,” she glanced briefly at the rank on his uniform while straightening up, holding her foot in pain and taking in the view below her. The paper knob at the top of the new machine had broken off completely.

“Fuck, this is what I get, I suppose,” she laughed, looking up find herself across from the shy, inquisitive face of Elvis Presley.

“Oh fuck a duuuuuck.”

Bess forgot about the typewriter, the paper spilled everywhere, the throbbing pain in the left foot she was now holding up and cradling. She didn’t even notice how she was exposing her thighs until she rubbed her foot again and dropped it with a thud, realizing she was about to flash Elvis Presley. He seemed to realize it too, and smirked as he turned his face to look away as some sort of attempt to give her privacy while she smoothed her dress down. Bess did this while clumsily trying to balance between one heeled foot and one bare foot.

Elvis found it very hard to stifle his chuckles as he watched her stiffen, and held out his hand to put her at ease.

“Uh, hey there ma’am, I’m Elvis, Elvis Presley.”

Bess shifted and smiled awkwardly, wiping her dirty, sweaty hands on her silk dress and extending her right hand out to shake his. The the same right hand, that had, moments ago, been rubbing her smelly, left foot. Honestly, it seemed like the most polite option, since she decided to act as if the last five minutes hadn’t happened. As if  sneaking out of the supply building past 10 p.m. on a Friday night with her arms full of government office supplies was perfectly normal.

“Bess Schwartz, I’m, uh, I work in the Front Office here. I’m, I’m, I'm the secretary for the Army Intelligence Commander.”

She gasped when Elvis took her hand, the hand cover in her foot sweat, and squeezed it warmly, bringing it to his lips for a chaste kiss.

“Nice ta, uh, meetcha. Imma sorry, uh, for startlin’ ya Miss Schwartz, ma’am.”

Bess shivered in the darkness as she heard herself whisper for him to call her Bess almost incoherently while she watched Elvis drop down in front of her and fit her other white pump over her left foot. She tried to remember how to breath. It was hard.  Hard because she was struggling to subdue  her visceral reaction to Elvis' thumb as it slowly smoothed over the top of her foot, which made it harder still to recover from the embarrassment of getting caught stealing a typewriter. By the most famous person in the world. Bess shut her eyes in disbelief that this was actually happening, and was disappointed when she lifted her eyelids to find that it actually was happening and Elvis was still there. He met her eyes, his finger delicately stroking her ankle.

“There, now, honey, you think you can walk?”

She pulled her leg back and nodded as she scanned the parking lot, the road along and other buildings behind it.

“Mhmm. Thank you, Private. Say, what are you doing stalking around the base right now? Lights out is at 9.”

Elvis bit his lip, looking at the ground as he stood.

“Can’t sleep.”

Bess arched her eyebrow as she started to bend, but Elvis put his hand up to stop her and stooped to gather the paper. He crushed it under his arm as he grabbed the typewriter and ink ribbons, talking slowly and deliberately.

“Well, my first night some jokers went an put shaving cream in my shoes, I ‘spose it gave em a good laugh to watch me run around like a damn fool getting ready for inspection. An well, I ain’t been able to sleep since, can’t bare to, uh, to uh - ”

His voice trailed off, but Bess knew what he meant. He was afraid of looking like poor sport or tattle tale if he complained, and a coward if he just took it. Her eyes narrowed as she noticed the bags under his eyes, calculating he must be going on 40 hours without much sleep. Or much food either, if her date was to be believed. Men. Boys, more like. Little boys amusing them selves by torturing this poor kid. This, tall, lanky, kid, who hovered above her and whose large hands made her typewriter ribbon look like a checker piece.

“Yeah, uh, they’re just scared they won’t be able to get any tail now that your here.” She smiled as best she could under the pressure of trying to talk with Elvis smoldering, lonely boy eyes piercing through her.

Bess looked at a passing car just so she could collect herself, then back at Elvis, thinking of the crowds of women lining the gates.

“The men should be thanking you, we haven’t seen this many pretty girls hanging around the base, since, well, since ever. Probably gonna be easy picking, especially for the soldiers who can leave post. Those poor girls hanging 'round outside the gates don’t know you aren’t allowed to go near ‘em for the next three or so weeks.”

“Mhmm, seems like, uh, uh, ya don’t havta go off post to meet pretty girls.”

Elvis bit his lip again, enjoying how Bess became flustered and embarrassed, smoothing the sides of her dress. She reminded herself that she hated him, as she felt the butterflies swarm through her belly and make themselves at home, flitting willy nilly up her spine. Bess also became keenly aware of how hungry she was from skipping dinner. She didn’t have time for his teasing and looked Elvis squarely in the eyes as she spoke.

“I recommend staying away from them, too. Especially the WACs. You’re definitely not supposed to fraternize with other soldiers.”

Elvis looked off at the trees that lined the road to the right. “How bought civilians? Is, um, ah, frater-a-nizin', uh, allowed?”

Bess turned, ignoring the question, though she was unable to ignore the warm, playful flirtation in Elvis’ voice as it washed over her and her chest heaved up and down at a quicker pace. Once again she told herself that she did, indeed, know how to breath. Her annoyance at his line melted away when she returned to his eyes and saw the exhaustion underneath his bravado, instantly regretting what she was about to do before she even did it. Somehow she couldn’t help herself, it was as if she was having an out-of-body experience, watching herself fumble through a simple sentence.

“Listen, I, um, I just had the worst date of my life, at the worst restaurant. Couldn’t eat a bite. You help me get another type writer, and I’ll, I’ll fix us something to eat. Then you can sleep on my couch for a few hours.”

Watching  his eyes light up, Bess felt the need to add. “But no funny business. I’m just helping out a new recruit, doesn’t mean anything.”

For the second time that night, Bess oversaw sneaking a broken typewriter into the repair shop and taking a new one, hobbling as she led Elvis to her car and directed him to put the stuff in her truck.

“Ya live on post?”

Bess patted the passenger seat of her blue Ford.

“Nope.”

“You know I ain’t supposed to leave?”

“Yup.”

“So — what’s the plan, stan?”

Bess turned to Elvis, removing his hand from her knee where it had somehow landed, and whispered with breathy excitement.

“I’m going to sneak you off.”

Elvis quirked his eyebrows as she kept talking.

“I, um, well, I share an office with the CO's secretary, Mabel. Who might actually be the most powerful person at this command. So, as long as I get you back in time for reveille, we’ll be fine. None of these guys will mess with me.” 

“I, uh, I don’ wan no special privileges, I wanna, uh, be treated like any other man, any other soldier. I reckon I better -”

Elvis trembled when Bess touched his shoulder and rubbed it gently, looking up into his face with her big brown eyes, now tender and reassuring. He looked to her like he might cry as he spoke of not being special.

“Look, I would do this for any new recruit. Boot camp, uh. Well. This is the hardest  part of being in the Army. I promise. I’m not offering because you’re famous. I actually kind of hate you, do you know how much trouble you cause my office? So, you should know I’m helping you in spite of who you are. Promise. I would - I would do it for any soldier in your predicament.”

Bess said this firmly to convince herself as much as to convince Elvis. Then she added a friendly wink and drove off, enjoying Elvis’ bemused smile and telling herself not to worry. Underneath her calm, confidence was the nagging thought that, unlike Elvis, Bess knew exactly what happened if some rule-minded officer were to find out that she had snuck Elvis off post. She had a good understanding of rule-minded officers. Like her father. Who, thankfully, was out of town.

******************************

The bacon and eggs sizzled on the stove and Bess flipped them, shyly avoiding Elvis’ gaze from where he was leaning with his back arched against the door jab, his right hip twisted up and his thumbs hanging from his belt loops as he watching her cook.

“So, uh, what’s a secretary doing taking typewriters uh, um, out late on a Friday night an a bringin' ‘em home for, huh?”

Bess shook her head into the frying pan, then met his gaze.

“I , um, I happen to have some very important work I need to do from home. For the General I work for. That’s, uh, why I have a master key.”

“Uh huh.” Elvis’ smirked, nodding his chin as he stuck his hands slowly under his armpits, and lifted one knee up to lean back further against the wall.

“Hand me your plate, dinner is ready.”

Elvis bounced off the doorway and strode slowly over to where Bess stood at the stove, his long arms dangling loosely at his side. He had become more relaxed and confident once they got to her house, after tearing up a bit in the car and telling her how much he missed his parents and home and how he didn’t have any idea what Germany would be like. He had then muttered on about how millions of guys have been through this, so he knew he’d be alright, though the tear dripping down his cheek made Bess think he believed the exact opposite. Now he was behind her, almost a different person, cocky and teasing as his strong arms snaked around her waist to steady her hands.

“Nah, see how the egg is still all jiggly wiggly, Bessie? S’not done, not nearly. Wanna get the bacon good and browned up, so’s there ain’t no more pink left.”

She flushed at the way his breath hit her neck while his words softly compelled her to make his food the way he liked it. The rumble of his voice as her nickname rolled off his tongue was an assault on her sense of decency, and she let his hands linger at her waist for another beat before lifting them off and assuring him that she understood.No jiggly wiggly, no pink. Black. That she learned, was how Elvis liked everything, and everything was what she gave him, as he ate the pound and a half of bacon om her fridge and her last six eggs.

Bess mused that sneaking a fatigued Elvis off post and filling him full of food must be what made him clingy, comfortable and forward when he put his arms around her as she led him upstairs to the guest room. Rubbing his eyes as he plopped on the bed, Elvis grabbed her wrist imploringly and begged her not to leave him all lonesome in a strange house, in a strange town, where she was the only nice 'lil gal to treat him like a real human bean. Sighing, Bess sat at the top of the bed and let Elvis lay his head in her lap, where she stroked his forehead, and, at his request, started to tell him her life story. He had passed out after five minutes, when she had barely finished detailing how her parents met at Coney Island in 1932, three years before she was born.

Elvis' eye lids fluttered closed and he mumbled, “That’s a when I was borned. Aww, Bessie boo, we musta been babies at the same time.”

Bess groaned as she couldn’t seem to pull herself away from him, and stayed there with his head in her lap for another twenty minutes, afraid if she rolled it off her lap she would wake him. She was cupping the back of his head to gently move it off her lap when he thrashed around and called out the name Satnin. This led Bess to give up and lean against the head board, reconciling herself to a night sleeping sitting up with the most famous rebellious heart throb soldier in the world calling out for his mama in her lap.

Elvis’ hands moved first at the sound of the alarm, roving over Bess tummy and breasts  before he opened his eyes to the smacks of her hand hitting him off her. Somehow she had been pulled down into his arms over the course of the night, and she jumped up, commanding him to get his boots on while she ran down stairs and made some coffee. She prayed her younger sister hadn’t heard the alarm. Still wearing the dress from the night before, Bess watched Elvis gulp down his black coffee and chomp down the bread and cheese she had thrown at him to eat in the car. Loudly. With an open mouth. Wiping the crumbs from his mouth, he put his arm around her and squeezed.

Despite sleeping in his arms, Bess felt a shock and jolted at his touch.

“Just so we’re clear,  Mister, uh, Private um Presley, uh, this was just a friendly, patriotic gesture. I wasn’t, uh um, trying to seduce you.”

Elvis arched his eyebrow, his expression one of amusement and incredulity at the idea Bess thought of her behavior seductive. The way she had hesitated spitting out the word ’seduce’ so earnestly was adorable and endearing.

“OK, honey, you’re the boss, jus do me a favor and call me Elvis, huh?”

She nodded, eyes forward in concentration as she felt him squeeze her shoulders even tighter. She left it there, and found herself relaxing and leaning back into him after a few minutes with a sigh. She couldn't help it, it was an instinctive response to the way his fingers widened and began to tap out a rhythm on the side of her arm. Everything felt good, and their two bodies melded together in the dusky morning twilight for a spell until a gate came into view and Bess jerked up to throw Elvis’ arm onto the car seat with a smack, not noticing how he, too, stiffened with trepidation.

She stopped around the block from Elvis’ barracks and met his strong, uninhibited bear hug with her body, letting him press the air out of her lungs and kiss her cheek.

“Hey, Bessie Boo, I,uh, I can’t, I don’t even, I uh, I hate to leave you, honey, I ain’t even had time to tell you what I want to say, what -”

Bess put her finger to his lips, feeling his breath as she shhhed him. His brows were furrowed and he frowned, not wanted to leave her car and return to the barracks. She rubbed her hand up his chest reassuringly.

“You only have five minutes to get into your bunk, Private Pres - Elvis.” She murmured. “Now, go be a good boy, I have an idea, for how to help you sleep in the future.”

“Hmmm, sounds fun.” A naughty expression played across his face, his jaw hung open and he waggled his eye brows.

Bess realized the insinuation and hit his arm.

“Not that.”  She cocked her head towards the road. “You better go.”

“Huh, usually girls are tryin to run after me, not run me off.” She hit him again as he teased her. “Ok, ok baaaby. I’m off like a gun.”

Elvis face twisted into a crooked grin, and Bess felt like the sun was rising in her car, the earth was suddenly brighter when Elvis’ blue eyes beamed down at her and he kissed her goodbye. It was a light, sweet kiss aimed at her mouth but somehow missing and hitting the crease of her lips.

It had been, what, a year since she had been kissed? Bess kept her eyes closed, just enjoying the soft, tingling sensation of  his mouth crushed into her face. Elvis’ hands gripped her tightly, one hand on her neck, the other at her back, and he moved as if to kiss her again. In a brief moment of clarity, Bess realized she had been fighting her attraction to Elvis all night. It had been gradual and immediate, and she felt very different being close to him then she did when she saw hm in the movies or on the TV and radio. At the back of her mind she could hear all the reasons she shouldn’t kiss him. She pushed her hand up between their lips.

“Um, hey, look. Think we could just be friends? I, uh, I have a rule. I don’t date soldiers.”

Elvis sat back, a quizzical expression softening on his face into a smile as he rubbed her shoulder.

“Sure, Bessie baby, friends. Got it.”

He clicked his tongue and grinned, shooting her a thumbs up. Bess nodded, unable to stop the flutter of her heart as she watched Elvis’ long legs carry him forward as he jogged around the corner to his bunk, pausing to look back over his shoulder at her with a goofy smile as he waved goodbye.

“Fuck a duck.” She heard herself mutter, as she put her car into gear and drove home to shower and get Elvis Presley out of her head.

***********************************************************

Chapter Two: Moo Moo & Tupelo

If you enjoyed this and want to read more, comment, reblog, and let me know what you think and if you would want to be tagged. Tagging a few of you on here who read my stuff, but DM or comment if you would rather not be ;)

@doll-elvis @richardslady121 @waiting4brucewayne2adoptme @father-of-2cats @everythingelvispresley @j-v-9-2 @eliseinmemphis @moonchild-daniella @notstefaniepresley @louisejoy86 @amydarcimarie @kingdomforapony @dkayfixates @artlover8992 @18lkpeters @literally-just-elvis-fics

[blossomingframe]

T-shirt

This is inspired by a real conversation me and my girlfriend had. First person POV.

It had been a long three hours. Dance class all day tends to lead to three things; a ravenous appetite, being drenched in sweat and being weirdly horny. Luckily unlike most days my girlfriend was waiting for me when I got home. One week of a parent-free house too. As I stretched and massaged my rubber legs I thought about how I’d be twice as exhausted once the day was over- but plenty energised for antics. I suddenly came up with a bright idea. I whipped out my phone to text her immediately;

“Hey babe. My shirt probably already stinks. If I make it worse on purpose would you wear it tonight?😈”

“Oh my God yes I would love to. Mark me with your scent. I want to be second grossest person in the supermarket tonight.🥰”

Perfect. Four more hours of dance. Now the shirt is sticking to skin all over. But the sweating time wasn’t over. I head to the student gym and hit arm day a little hard than usual. Arousal is the best motivator. Then I have a little pre-dinner at a coffee shop; broccoli Mac and cheese, an americano and a slice of chocolate cake. I love any excuse to eat but this time I’m on a mission. Make myself fart.

Once I’m off the bus I walk home in a cloud of joy. I’m a simple,slobby dude; I like food, sex, being gross and gross people. As I get to the door I grin wildly. My sweet girlfriend answers the door. As per usual she looks stunning. I kiss her on the cheek and say; “ it’s been a long day but I’m willing to make it twice as long for you.”She frets over me and compliments me, as I babble on about all the dumb shit I thought about to pass the time. Mid sentence a small burp falls out of her lips. It sounds so normal these days. I can’t help but shower her with compliments though. Especially with the snack packages I can see on the table. My plan needs to be executed though. I excuse myself to upstairs.

Perfect. I can hear my stomach gurgle. I always have a fart brewing but these will reek. I pull my sweaty t-shirt off, screw it up and shove it in my trousers. Then I push down with my hands clasped on my belly. Sure enough I release four massive farts in a row. Deep, bubbly and long directly into the already smelly shirt. I put on a shirt from my “worn once but not too bad” pile then go downstairs to see her stratching her ear while watching TV. Cutie. I say “hey babe you know what I said earlier about my shirt. Well I’ve stunk out this one for you. I hope you enjoy it.” She buries her nose in and stim-whistles a couple of times then puts on the shirt. “Thank you . This feels so cozy.”

“You look cute babe. Walk to the supermarket , wander around to get dinner, get the bus back then eat and fool around with a space documentary on?” “Could we get the bus both ways? I don’t like crossing the big main road.” “Okay country bumpkin we can avoid the horse machines.” “Says the city boy who gets excited every time he sees a cow”

We stand at the bus stop with my arm around her waist and her arm around my shoulders. I am definitely smirking. Sometimes I cannot control the smirk. She looks at me and blushes. Every time she blushes my heart lights up. As we get on the bus a couple of people turn to look. I pull her to the back and we lean on each other as we sit down. No traffic today so it’s only 12 minutes to the bus station. Before I know it we’re picking out discounted fancy pizzas while she talks about peaky blinders. “Can we get some garlic bread as well? And some sour candy?” “It’s your money” “I know but it has to feed us for four more days” “Can we get hummus” “Of course” she gives me a look. I know what that means. That look means I should apply my empathy to myself.

When we get to the frozen aisle an older man is looking at the frozen vegetables. He stares us down, looking for something to comment on. Then his nostrils flare. As I open the door the freezer with the Ben and Jerry’s he spits out “you gen zeds never bathe. Both of you smell awful. It’s anti social. Get your acts together” at my sweet girlfriend. She starts giggling and I start laughing as well. He picks up his bags and walks away. I keep laughing as I pull her in by the waist. “You smell terrible” I kiss her on the mouth. My stomach burbles and feel a bubble shoot up my throat. I turn my head and let out a medium sized burp. I pull back in give her a huge hug. I can feel that she’s nervous but happy I’m happy.

We both go straight to the kitchen when we get home. I open a bag of rainbow belts and place our pizza and garlic bread in oven while she gets a couple of paper plates out of the packet for us. Then she opens her hummus and starts slicing vegetables. I let out another fart as I retrieve the garlic bread and joke “I need to be re-inflated”. I place cheese on and put it back in the oven then hug her from behind and tie her/my shirt so her belly can be seen. I then kiss her on the forehead and start doing a silly dance to pass the time. When we dish up I’m more generous for myself than usual. Then we set ourselves up in the living and I turn on the TV. Then I ask “can I put my hand down your pants while we eat” “yes but let me get comfy” “ok” she pushes her self into the couch corner then places her food in the gap between her legs. I then fumble with her button and zip and push my hand into underwear and pick up a slice of garlic bread. She’s already hard. I look at her quizzically “you were really confident with that old man and I really like wearing your shirt”. We watch the screen as we eat and I touch various parts of her body.

As a supernova fills the screen I polish off my plate and tap her shoulder. She nods then pulls down her jeans and panties. I sit on her lap and put one hand on her clit and the fingers of the other hand in her mouth. Then I get into a rhythm. Mouth-clit-mouth-clit. She makes such fun faces. Eventually I feel a push and release and she moans directly in my ear. I move my two hands towards her belly. It looks cute, round and gassy. I rub gently below her belly button and she lets out her own loud fart. I kiss her face all over and exclaim “such a good gross girl! I love you!” She’s so cute. I collapse into her and we fall asleep on the couch. She’s mine. She smells like me.

[waywardstation]

Heart Full, Bowl Empty

Chapter 2 - Dinner

Winter is approaching Hisui, and everyone is prepared for the upcoming harsh months. That is, Akari thought so, until she attended one of the Pearl Clan’s communal dinners with Ingo.

It becomes increasingly clear to Akari that the clan is struggling to keep food on the table, and she might be part of the reason why.

Ingo makes sure Akari is able to have dinner, and has a place to sleep for the night.

Or, read it here on AO3!

Enjoy!

Chapter 1 is here

————

While Ingo was already running strings of words through his head, trying to figure out what he would possibly say to Irida, Akari glanced around at the tables, connecting her eyes with a few curious gazes that rested on her.

“Now, seats often vary, but we usually designate ourselves to the same tables,” Ingo briefly removed his hat to brush snow off of its brim. “Usually, I seat myself somewhere over here…”

Before Ingo could properly lead Akari through the rows of tables, however, a voice the warden had been dreading, but expecting, spoke up.

“Ingo!” Irida called out as she approached them.

She had pounced on them faster than he had anticipated.

“Ah, Lady Irida!” Ingo began as he turned to her, mentally running through the jumbled script of explanations he had haphazardly put together in his head. “I hope it is alright that Miss Akari… joins us for dinner?”

Irida’s expression did not betray any traces of irritation at the proposal, but Akari could not find any hint of warm reception to it either. Ingo saw confusion beneath it.

That sting of guilt from outside scratched up Akari’s spine again, gently, but irritatingly.

“Well, I thought Lady Sneasler was waiting outside to take her home?” Irida cocked her head slightly.

“She, ahem…departed,” Ingo cleared his throat. A few heads were starting to turn in their direction, curious as to why the clan leader was speaking with a warden who had a non-clan member at his side, and why all of them looked stiff.

“It wasn��t her fault though, the storm got really bad!” Akari tried to help explain. “She had to go back to her kits!”

A moment of hesitance.

“…and I took too long to get back to her.” Akari added as she tried to fill the uncomfortable silence, sounding incredibly remorseful as she folded her arms behind her back. “I’m sorry.”

Irida glanced at the entrance of the hall, hearing the wind and snow whistle through the crack of the doors. She understood the importance of a noble’s choices; it was their duty to serve them by appointing wardens, after all. And she knew how important this litter was for Lady Sneasler, with Ingo having reported months of repeatedly trying and failing to have kits. And with the low sneasel population already…

What this situation was telling her, was that Akari would now have to stay for dinner regardless.

“Alright,” Irida reluctantly responded as she mulled the circumstances over, momentarily glancing over her shoulder at the tables as she broke her eye contact for the first time in that conversation. “Well then, um, excuse me…I’m going to have to discuss some things with meal prep in the back.”

Two of the three people in the conversation truly understood just how hard that discussion would be, but all three of them felt guilt in some way or another.

And while they were a distance away where people probably couldn’t hear unless they were straining to eavesdrop (which Ingo assumed some where), the whole conversation was happening a bit closer to the tables than Ingo would have liked.

“-It is alright, Lady Irida,” Ingo interrupted as he put his hands on Akari’s shoulders as a silent indicator, letting her know that he could take over from here. “She arrived with me, and I failed to ensure her timely departure. I will take care of it. Miss Akari, I often station myself over there. You may take a seat, and I will join you shortly.”

The girl's eyes followed Ingo’s finger, now pointing at one of the tables in the back end of the mess hall. It was easy to pick out, being one of the only vacant spots left.

Akari didn’t want to be sent out of a discussion she felt she was so involved in; it was about her, after all! But she didn’t want to cause any more issues than she already had, so she followed Ingo’s orders, and went to sit at the table, moving through the rows.

The few clan members who were situated at the table greeted Akari, brief but genuine, before returning to their conversation. The two members at the end must have been parents, as there was a child sitting next to them. Multiple years younger than Akari and in a pearl clan hoodie a little too big (much too big) for him, the kid seemed to be a toddler. He stared at Akari and grinned, and she returned a more awkward smile of her own so as not to ignore him, before turning her attention to Ingo and Irida.

With how loud the room was, multiple conversations going on at once, it was entirely too noisy for Akari to overhear anything Ingo was saying to Irida on the other side of the room. But she could see it was a civil argument of sorts.

Irida spoke with a firm but worried expression on her face, undoing her previously-crossed arms to put a hand on her hips as she gestured to the tables. Ingo rubbed the back of his neck as he looked down, as if attempting to explain something.

Irida’s expression softened as she listened to him speak, before appearing to express concern. Ingo paused for a moment, before he seemed to suggest something. He slightly grimaced, as if he knew Irida wouldn’t like it.

And it seemed she didn’t, as the worried expression immediately returned. She gestured at him with protest, but Ingo raised his hands up to stop her and keep talking. She saw him readjust his cap as he talked, which he did often enough, but Akari had also come to recognize it as a telling sign of nervousness. He must have been explaining his point though, as Irida once again softened, but this time with a look of defeat. She shook her head at him, and Akari saw her mouth “ok” in a small string of words, the only word she was able to decipher in their conversation, before she turned to retreat into the mess hall’s food preparation area.

All of this over one more plate? Akari knew they had come very late, but was it that hard to prepare one more?

With Irida handled, Ingo turned his attention back to the table, to see Akari had been watching the whole time. She didn’t attempt to hide it or quickly turn away like most would, instead doubling down by shooting him a suspicious look. Ingo visibly sighed, and made his way through the rows of lively tables, over to Akari.

“What was that about?” Akari asked Ingo before he had even fully sat down next to her.

“No need to worry about that,” he answered her without a second of hesitation, adjusting himself on the bench next to her, and intertwining his fingers together on the table. “Just know they have arranged a plate for you for dinner.”

Akari glanced back at the kitchen entrance Irida had disappeared into, then back at Ingo, trying to figure it out for herself.

“Everything’s all good in the kitchen?” Akari offhandedly wondered.

“Yes.” Ingo assured her, a one word answer.

That seemed like much more trouble than it should have been.

What had gone on in that conversation?

“Now,” Ingo was quick to change subjects, jumping to another train of thought. “The storm outside, I expect it will be running on its tracks all night. I would not be surprised if it picks up even more speed by the time we finish dinner.”

How could the storm get even worse?

“A passenger’s safety is important, and takes priority!” Ingo continued. “ You are more than welcome to take a detour, and rest at my station until morning, Miss Akari.”

Once again, he was offering hospitality without skipping a beat.

Akari’s eyes brightened some. She’d get to stay with Ingo?

She only ever got to lodge at Ingo’s place in the settlement when things seemed to go very wrong though, like when he got seriously sick, and she stayed with him to help him get better.

Thankfully though, while this situation wasn’t exactly cheery, it was much less severe than that. And really, she hadn’t thought that far ahead on what she’d do, or where she’d go, once dinner was over.

But…

Something about the offer bothered her.

“You don’t mind?” Akari asked, as if she possibly had any other options to turn to. “I mean, I’m sorry. I’m intruding on dinner, and now I’d be taking up space in your own home too-“

Akari was beginning to feel like a pest, the more she thought about it.

“Of course not. It would be reckless to have you depart for your station in weather such as this.” Ingo reassured her. He could see countless safety violations in the simple act of going outside the settlement’s grounds alone. “And, your company is always welcome. You are never intruding.”

The last sentence is what comforted Akari somewhat. While she still felt like she was indeed intruding, she was reassured that ultimately, Ingo genuinely wanted her to come with him.

Always the one to look out for others, he had always been kind to her like that.

“Thank you, Ingo.” Akari smiled as she looked down at the table. She was incredibly grateful, but her guilty conscience found it a bit easier to accept the offer without looking him in the eyes.

————

It had been almost half an hour since Akari and Ingo had arrived with supplies, having come around the time dinner was supposed to be served.

Needless to say, people were becoming a bit restless.

Listening to the clan members grumbling to themselves about the wait, guilt seemed to collect in Akari’s stomach like a rock.

Dinner was only late because of their late delivery, after all!

“You think they blame us?” Akari whispered to Ingo, growing a little restless herself as she readjusted her spot on the bench.”For dinner being late?”

Ingo had been listening to conversations on and off for the past hour, as he was sure Akari had been too.

They certainly did.

“Not all of them,” Ingo tried to give her the reassurance he was sure she was looking for, without lying. If she had been reassured at all, her face didn’t show it.

Thankfully, the two were spared from any further judgment. The buzzing conversations in the room died down quickly as Irida entered the mess hall once again, uttering the few words everyone had been waiting for.

“We are so sorry for the wait, but dinner is ready! A lot of hard work was put into it; we hope you enjoy it!”

Clan members who had been back in the preparation area started entering the mess hall, setting down various dishes, plates, and bowls on a table near the front. The sounds of chatter around the room started up again with vigor, now excited to start eating.

Akari noticed all the children, as well as any considerably older members, got up from their tables and headed towards the front of the room. The younger kids ran while the teens hurried with a bit more composure. The elders were the only ones to casually walk as they continued their conversations with each other, perfectly fine with being at the end of the line.

The child who was at their own table jumped up with a squeal as one of his parents nudged him, and he scurried over to join the others, and get in line with his friends.

“Youngest and oldest eat first,” Ingo explained, pointing to the table with all of the food laid out, plates and bowls ready to be taken. “You can head up with them. They’ll hand you your meal up there.”

A brief, weak wave of indignation washed over Akari for a moment. Was she being grouped with the kids? Those children over there who were running around each other and squealing in line?

“Well,” Akari stood up, straightening out her uniform as she stepped over the table’s bench into the aisle. “The really super old people are going up too! So you gotta get in line with me!”

Ingo let out a quiet, but amused laugh as he shook his head, a thin smile on his face.

“Very funny,” he playfully pushed her shoulder with a firm hand, nudging her towards the growing line. Akari laughed at her own joke as she finally complied, moving through the rows to join the back.

Truthfully, Akari still felt a little indignant as she took a place behind those already waiting, too focused on comparing herself to the children playing around in line further ahead of her. That was, until she noticed Lian and Calaba take up the end of the line, waiting a few people behind her. The two were loosely locked in a conversation; without Calaba’s basket of big plants to make for a more imposing silhouette, she was around the same height as Lian.

Ingo hadn’t gone up with her, and she didn’t see Gaeric in line (or Palina anywhere). Perhaps being younger, or an elder preceded being a warden in this instance.

Akari gave a wave to them both and a smile to get their attention. Lian returned a friendly greeting, but Calaba’s acknowledging head nod was a bit delayed.

“Hey Akari!” The boy gave her a grin as he peeked out of the side of the line to see her better. “It’s surprising to see you here!”

“So you are joining us for dinner,” the older warden mused, instead watching from where she stood as she folded her arms. She didn’t put in nearly as much effort to act as warm as Lian did, but it did not come across as unfriendly. It was more like she was confirming suspicions than anything. “We watched you go through the doors quite a few times before dinner.”

“Yeah! Staying was sort of a last minute thing, though…” Akari rubbed the back of her neck as she explained to them, in an effort to dispel any incorrect assumptions. “I was helping Ingo gather for tonight, and got, well…stranded here while bringing it back with him.”

“Well, an extra helper means bigger stock for the next day, and I’m on gathering duty tomorrow with Lord Kleavor, so you made my job a bit easier!” Lian replied with a gracious smile as he tipped his hat back out of his eyes. “Perhaps you could help me tomorrow if you’re looking for something to do!”

“Now Lian, I’m sure she has her own plans for tomorrow!” Calaba nudged him in the arm, making the younger warden laugh as his hat slipped back over his eyes from the movement.

“Kidding, kidding!” Lian adjusted his hat once again, but the playful tone didn’t leave his voice. “I’m kidding! But the offer’s still there..!”

“I’ll think about it,” Akari smiled, throwing Lian her best nicety for ‘absolutely not’. “So…you all take turns gathering?”

“Well, each warden has a day of the week set aside for them to go gathering,” Lian explained flatly. If Akari didn’t know any better, she would say that line sounded rather practiced.

How come she hadn’t ever seen any of them gathering before though? Did she simply always just happen to miss them?

Akari didn’t have time to dwell on it though.

“Enough of that talk,” Calaba brushed the subject away with a wave of her hand. “We’re here to enjoy the result of gathering, not talk about it! And it seems you’re next in line to appreciate your labor, young lady!”

“Next!”

Turning her head to see there was now a gap of space between her and the serving table, Akari realized she was next and was holding up the line, having got caught up in the conversation.

“Oh! Sorry!” She blurted as she took hasty steps forward to the table, breaking away from the conversation. “It was nice talking to you both!”

“Likewise,” Calaba smiled as she moved with the rest of the line, Lian beside her.

In front of her was a number of plates, all prepared the exact same way, and with more being brought out of the kitchen to replace taken meals. They each contained a bowl full of what she assumed was soup, with a variety of additives on the side, some she recognized from the kitchen earlier.

Akari didn’t want to hold up the line more than she already had though by inspecting the food (and chance looking rude or picky), so she grabbed a plate and mug of water closest to her, thanked the clan member overseeing the table, and smiled again at Calaba and Lian as she passed them to head back to her seat.

Akari quickly made it back, setting her food on the table as she sat back down next to Ingo.

The other members at Ingo’s table had struck up a quiet conversation amongst each other, Ingo included, but it was sustained enough between the others that the warden was able to break off, turning his attention back to Akari as she sat down.

“Ah! Apricorn soup tonight,” Ingo commented, looking over his shoulder at her plate.

Her plate consisted of…well, she didn’t know what. But she could identify a lot of the ingredients that made up the various foods.

A roll of bread accompanied a small amount of jam preserves - Akari recognized these as the bread and jelly from earlier in the kitchen. Various roasted berries sat off to the side; they were prepared plain, simple, and quick, having been from the stock Ingo and Akari brought in late. The once-empty, hand-carved wooden bowl now contained hot soup, still steaming. It was more viscous broth than anything else, but stirring it around, Akari could see scraps of meat mixed in with slices of boiled sand radishes, as well as chunks of medicinal leeks and plump beans…probably prepared quickly and plainly as well, for the same reason as the berries. No doubt some crunchy salt had been added to help with the flavor.

“Is that what this is?” Akari questioned as she picked up her wooden spoon, and held up a spoonful to further inspect the muted orange broth. “Apricorns?”

“Indeed!” Ingo confirmed as he glanced at the roll off to the side of her plate. “The bread consists of apricorns as well.”

“Really? I didn’t know you could even make bread out of those things,” Akari picked up the gritty roll to briefly examine it as she waited for her soup to cool a bit. She took in the fact that most of the meal consisted of the hard-shelled fruit. “Pearl Clan must really like apricorns.”

“The fruit is common, and a variety of recipes can be made with them.” Ingo replied, half-dodging Akari’s comment as she took another spoonful, still steaming - this time blowing on it, before cautiously sipping on it.

Hot!

But also good!

The broth was creamy with enough salt to keep it from tasting too sweet, and clashing with the boiled meat and vegetables. The broth’s flavor was somewhat plain, but very earthy, despite being made from a fruit. Akari had never eaten an apricorn before, always opting to instead carve pokeballs from the shells and toss the fruit to her Pokémon, but it truthfully tasted very close to what she would have expected.

Akari scooped another spoonful from the bowl, taking less cautious sips. She would have much preferred to slurp from the bowl, but she was a little more self-conscious of her manners here in the Pearl clan hall, and opted to use the utensils they gave her.

It was a comfort to finally get something warm in her stomach; traversing through the Icelands with Ingo had left her feeling the beginnings of numbness from the cold, but the soup was working to warm up her core, thawing the chill that had settled in.

Several spoonfuls in, Akari thought it was good, but the taste was simple enough that she felt like she’d get tired of it rather quickly. It didn’t seem like Pearl clan felt the same way though, what with all of the different apricorn recipes-

“Is it alright?” Ingo questioned Akari, noticing the mixed emotions on her face as she continued to sip on the soup. “Do you not like it?”

“No, I like it!” Akari refuted, as she stirred the bowl around, looking for more chunks of radish and meat - it seemed she was fishing out all of the contents from the broth rather quickly. She tried to think of how she would describe the taste of this new dish. “It’s very, uh,…apricorn-y.”

“That’s a good way to put it,” Ingo agreed with her as she picked up a few roasted berries and bit into them, in an attempt to cleanse her palate. The flame-roasted texture of fruit flesh, mixed with the juice a bite produced, certainly refreshed her.

As the last of the older and younger clan members took their plates and returned to their tables, the remainder of the Pearl Clan rose from their seats, heading to take their places in line, and lengthen it once again.

Akari initially didn’t notice, too invested in her food, until the few clan members at their table rose to go join the line, taking the table’s sounds of their conversation with them.

Akari paused for a moment, chewing on a gritty chunk of sand radish as she hovered over her soup bowl, watching them leave.

Ingo didn’t get up, however, and still sat comfortably next to her, resting crossed arms on the table as he leaned forward. With his chatting group all standing in line, he sat quiet, gazing at a particular empty spot on the table.

“When do you get to go up and get your plate?” Akari turned to Ingo with a mouthful of boiled radish and beans, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Do wardens go last or something?”

“Well-“ Ingo cleared his throat as he tapped his fingers against his still-crossed arms.

The answer to Akari’s question stuck in Ingo’s throat as she took another glance at the line, to see Gaeric take up the back with Irida. She waited to see if more people would head up, but no!

They were the last in line!

Looking around the room, it was confirmed that everyone else was either sitting down and eating with a plate in front of them, or standing in line about to get their food.

Even some of the clan members who had been helping out with preparing and handing out meals were starting to leave the handouts table, and move to sit down and eat their own portions.

Was Ingo just trying to be polite, and make sure everyone else had gone before him? He tended to fall into such habits. But he wouldn’t get anything if he didn’t move!

“Hey!” Akari pointed at the line of patiently-standing people. “Everyone else has already gone! You should go before they close the line!”

“Miss Akari,” Ingo fumbled beside her, acting like he had words stuck in his throat that didn’t want to come out. He dipped his head slightly forward, as if gravity would help pull them out.

He knew she would put up a fight about this, no matter which way he framed it. He was mostly stalling to make sure she got as much food into her stomach as possible, before they got to a certain point in this conversation. She needed it.

“I…hmm-“ he momentarily stopped in his tracks. “…My schedule does not indicate a refuel for tonight.”

Akari, who had picked up her soup bowl to begin slurping the last of the broth, sputtered on the contents.

“What?” She asked him, putting her practically-empty bowl down as she put her full attention on him. “What do you mean?”

Ingo uncrossed his arms, opting to interlace his fingers instead while sitting up in a more alert posture.

“…Ah, not enough was prepared ahead of time,” He said simply. He omitted the last part that would have completed the sentence…with a guest in mind.

Ingo had finally met Akari’s gaze while he answered. While it seemed like he had a hard time maintaining it, it was a good sign that Ingo was telling the truth.

The other clan members at their table finally returned and sat down with their plates, still having a hearty conversation and laughing. The discussion cut off Ingo and Akari’s own, with one of them directly addressing Ingo and asking about his opinion on letting swinub and piloswine into the hot spring after winter, when their second coats begin to shed heavily.

“How about it? Rema and Hectar said only if we designate someone to clean it up!”

“And we both said it should be you!” Another clan member, presumably Rema, intervened in between bites of apricorn bread. “You’re the one who started asking in the first place!”

A burst of playful jabbing and arguing broke out, before the questioner spoke up.

“Well hang on! Let’s see what Ingo says first!” They tried, making Ingo huff with amusement.

And so, with that, Ingo was pulled away from Akari to join in on their conversation, leaving her with more questions than answers as she stared at her empty soup bowl.

Not enough? What did he mean not enough?

Couldn’t they have just made one more plate? Was it really that much work? Akari remembered seeing the plates in the kitchen, already half-prepared by the time they came.

…surely, Ingo and herself didn’t arrive that late, did they? Was it that hard to account for one extra person?

But she was the extra person, and she was eating! If they didn’t have enough for one more person, why was she-?

Akari side-eyed Ingo, still without a plate, and a gaze that avoided falling onto the meals of those he was speaking with.

She swallowed thickly, realizing what he had been talking to Irida about now. Why didn’t she see it sooner? She was so hungry, she supposed she didn’t think about it.

The room was filled with a lighthearted atmosphere, people talking and laughing, enjoying each others’ company as they ate.

Except for Ingo.

Akari quickly enough joined him on this, now looking down at what was left of her plate-no, this was Ingo’s plate. It always had been.

She glanced back at the warden, head turned away from her as he still talked with the group of clan members.

She could see the expression on his face was one of amusement and interest as he continued to converse with the others, but under the table, hidden from the others, she could see his hands tapping together, as if he had nothing to look forward to, and was waiting for dinner to end.

He should be eating.

Akari made a face at him, knowing he couldn’t see it - why did he always have to be so well-mannered, and put everyone else first?

He wouldn’t have to do this if she wasn’t here!

She could certainly eat more, but the soup had been more than enough to sate her hunger for the night, she decided. It was now sitting like a brick in her stomach with the rest of her guilt, anyways.

Ingo was half-paying attention to the repetitive conversation, still on the topic of who should take care of heavy-shedding Pokémon in the hot spring, when he felt a hand tug on his sleeve.

The warden completely disconnected from the already-unengaging conversation, briefly gazing over the side of the tattered collar of his coat and down at his arm, before meeting Akari’s gaze.

“Is everything alright?” He asked, immediately concerned something was wrong. He hoped she wasn’t going to ask for seconds, possibly finishing the meal already. He knew it already wasn’t much, but they couldn’t just-

“Well,” Akari started, moving to grasp the edge of her plate. “The soup was good, but now I’m full.”

She pushed the plate over, nudging it in front of Ingo.

“And, I was wondering if maybe you wanted the rest?”

Ingo observed the plate she pushed over; the bowl was empty, and some of the roasted fruit had been eaten, but she had left the apricorn bread roll and preserves untouched.

The aching cavity under his ribs jumped at the idea, saying yes, take the food. But his manners told it to be quiet - of course she wasn’t full - and let him pass it back. Even though Ingo appreciated the thoughtfulness of the gesture, he knew a simple bowl of soup was not enough for a growing teenager who needed nutrients, and she was just trying to find an excuse to share with him.

And he was responsible for her.

“I…appreciate the offer. Thank you,” Ingo told her, before moving the plate back towards Akari. “But I assure you, my cab is alright. You can go ahead and finish it.”

Akari frowned as she stared at the untouched bread and berries, jostled with the movement of the plate as it was pushed back in front of her.

Of course Ingo would resist! He never did give in to compromises like this easily.

No matter, she would keep trying.

“Your ‘cab’ should really consider letting some passengers board,” Akari tried some of his own strange train lingo in a lighthearted mocking tone, in an effort to humor him.

She picked up the bread roll and gestured with it like it was an action figure.

“Like Mr. Bread! He’s uh…late for work! Let him board so he can get to his super boring meetings on time!”

Akari held the bread out to Ingo, who looked at it, then her, with an unconvinced expression. Her efforts to use train terms were commendable, at least; coming from a time where they were familiar, she was the only one who seemed to use the terms correctly.

“My cab is not taking passengers at this time,” Ingo maintained with a strained tone, gently pushing the roll away from himself, back to her. “I insist, Miss Akari, I do not need a refuel at this time. It is alright.”

Akari placed the roll back on the plate, her antics snuffed. This would be a little harder than she thought. But she would not give up; he needed to eat!

So fine! If joking around didn’t work, she could be petty.

“Well, if you don’t have the rest,” Akari started as she leaned against his arm, a non-serious tone in her voice that both masked her concern for Ingo, and gave away that she was about to get impish with him. “And if I don’t have the rest, then I guess it’s all just going to go to w-“

In a move that surprised Akari, Ingo made a quiet, odd noise through his teeth that cut her off. Akari could see him subtly but quickly scan the others as leaned closer to her, attempting to box the conversation in.

Thankfully, the adults were still deep in their conversations, and the child beside them was too busy smearing preserves from his plate on his face as he ate it with his hands.

“Miss Akari, even in jest, I advise against entertaining that idea. The Pearl Clan is vehemently against…wasting.” The words hurried from his mouth, just barely quiet enough for Akari to hear amongst the chatter in the room, with the last word being almost inaudible. It was almost like the word itself was accursed.

This struck Akari; usually when she pulled acts like this, Ingo would simply sigh and put his hands on his hips, or huff a laugh as he shook his head, before he did his best to play along, or relented to her antics.

This was different. It was not what she was expecting at all, and frankly, the different reaction perturbed her a little bit - she sensed she touched on something a bit sensitive.

Ingo seemed to pick up on this after reading her expression, as his shoulders slumped.

“Please do make an effort to eat the rest,” Ingo’s tone shifted some, still a bit quieter than usual as he took up a more relaxed position, and smoothed out his coat. “It’s your dinner.”

“But, it’s not my dinner,” Akari risked pushing the conversation further, having dropped the playful act in exchange for a more genuine approach. She did not move to take the plate back, leaving it between them. “This was yours. I ate most of it already, isn’t that good enough? I’d feel better if it was shared, and you had the rest.”

Ingo said nothing, his features tight. She had eaten most of the meal already, which he was glad for, but he wanted her to have all of it; she had worked hard with him today for hours, and she needed to earn back what energy she had spent.

“And if it really is so important that nothing gets left…” Akari decided to be risky and prodded the embers of the subject again, lowering her volume considerably so others couldn’t hear. “…someone has to eat the rest of it, and it won’t be me.”

Resilient at the best of times, stubborn at the worst of times.

“-Alright.” Ingo finally caved with a rushed hush, seeing that she was playing dirty. He couldn’t get around this, he decided.

To Akari’s relief, he hesitantly reached over and pulled the plate back in front of him. “…Thank you, Miss Akari.”

Despite it originally being his plate, Ingo was acting as if he was taking a portion of her fair share.

Akari simply leaned back against his arm, happy that he had relented and taken the food.

Even if he had put up a fight about it, it was clear he wanted to eat, and despite his best efforts, it was even clearer Akari would not have any more.

Best not to waste it.

Akari watched as he picked up the bread roll and turned it over in his hands, hesitating a moment.

“Mr. Bread is now boarding,” Akari resumed her joking from earlier, trying to get that lighthearted atmosphere back. “But he’s missed about seven of his super important meetings already.”

This time, Ingo fell into the more usual reaction of shaking his head, wheezing a quiet laugh. It relieved Akari to see the strain of the situation had loosened.

“Sounds like Mr. Bread is going to lose his job,” Ingo finally played along as he pulled the crumbly roll apart, using one of the bread chunks to scoop up the fruit preserves on the plate.

Akari relaxed further against Ingo’s side as he finally took a bite and chewed. His joking with her put her at ease, as did the fact that he was now eating something. She reserved potential conversation for now, to let him eat. And with how tired she was from helping Ingo gather for half of the day, she relented to the tiredness. Letting herself rest against the larger warden, the soft layers of his coat and tunic cushioned her.

Closing her eyes, she did not catch Ingo eating the tough, tasteless cores of the roasted berries, along with the rest of the fruit.

She had also failed to look at anyone else’s plates besides the child sitting across from her, to notice that not everyone’s portions were as well rounded as theirs. Nor did she ever realize cores were absent from their plates as well.

Dinner went on as usual, Akari resting against Ingo as the loud ambience of the room droned on, various conversations mixing together cheerfully, until designated clan members started coming around to collect the empty plates.

There was practically nothing left to clean off of them.

————

It had been about an hour since dinner was served, everyone deciding it was finally over after much conversing, and enjoying the evening together.

Pearl clan dinners were always like that, utilized as a time of day to catch up with friends and share stories, and just enjoy company. It would have gone on even longer if dinner hadn’t been served so late.

“Miss Akari,” Ingo gently nudged the girl with his shoulder as she still rested against him; she was not entirely asleep, but it was clear she had let herself drift. “Dinner has ended, it’s about time we leave.”

Akari sat up straight as she blinked her eyes, looking around. Several groups still sat at tables, but some were gone already, with lingering clusters of people hung around near the door. The tables were free of plates, bowls, and cups now, and a few clan members were going around snuffing out the hall’s many candles and lanterns.

“That went fast,” Akari offhandedly remarked, dragging her legs over the side of the table’s bench to stand up with Ingo.

The doors to the mess hall opened, and people slowly left the warm interior to venture out into the bleak, cold snow. As Ingo and Akari returned goodbyes to various Pearl clan members and wardens who waved them off, it quickly became apparent how much worse the weather had declined since dinner.

“Brrr!” Akari shivered as she held her arms, trying to pull her survey corps uniform closer around herself for warmth. It didn’t help much at all, she helplessly continued to shiver. “I didn’t think it could get much worse than it had earlier!”

“When one doesn’t think it can get any worse, the Icelands enjoy surpassing expectations.” Ingo commented with the authority of personal experience as he stepped beside her, holding onto his hat with one hand to keep the weather from snatching it up. The warm light from the mess hall’s open doors illuminated them from behind as Ingo held open the side of his frayed coat, noticing her shivering. Akari gratefully took him up on his offer, retreating into it.

“Thank you,” expressed her gratitude as she hugged him, sinking into his warm tunic and coat.

“Now! Onward to our final destination for the night!” Ingo’s clear voice was heard over the storm as he gently directed her to walk in the same direction as him, turning to trudge up the hill towards his home, against the harsh snowfall. “We must consider sleep to be well-rested for tomorrow.”

As they trudged up the hill, the conversations of the surrounding clan members heading to their homes died down, becoming more distant, and fading with the snowstorm.

Though the fading sounds of conversation were replaced with occasional bouts of low rumbling, heard every once in a while as they trudged through the snow flurry. If Akari didn’t know any better, she would say that was part of the storm itself.

He was still hungry?

“Ingo, is that you?” Akari asked him after another instance of the sound, but she already knew the answer.

Ingo only cleared his throat at the straightforward question, continuing to press on through the snow.

Why did he have to try and hide it from her?

“I know you’re still hungry!” Akari pressed. “A roll and some berries would never fill me up, and I’m smaller than you!”

“I am fine, Miss Akari. My cab is satisfied, my engines are adequately refueled, and I-“

An embarrassingly loud groan from Ingo’s stomach interrupted their conversation to refute him, causing them both to stop talking.

The apricorn bread roll and berries had not ‘adequately refueled’ him at all, as Akari suspected.

Ingo grimaced, pausing momentarily to press a hand against his tunic. Akari glared up at him from within his warm coat, as the growling ebbed off into an uncomfortable stretch of quiet.

Somehow, the silence between them was worse. Akari said nothing, but she didn’t have to for Ingo to feel her despondence, having caught him in a lie.

“Ahem…” Ingo cleared his throat as he glanced to the side for a moment, averting Akari’s knowing eyes. He tugged his cap down by the brim, clearly discomfited - he did not know how to excuse that. “I…apologize for that.”

Normally, Akari might have laughed, elbowing him and taking a light-hearted jab at his expense with a joke. But this time, the situation left her feeling more guilty than anything.

After all, she felt that this was her fault.

If only she had gone back with Lady Sneasler when Ingo originally offered!

With a sigh, Ingo started treading through the snow again towards his home, trying to leave the situation behind. But Akari kept close within his coat, dragging the situation right along with them.

“I’m sorry,” Akari plainly offered, a mere two words to summarize her gripping conviction. She did not elaborate on whether she was expressing regret over staying for dinner, or for Ingo’s current state, but truthfully it was used like an umbrella term, meant for a bit of both.

“I will be alright,” A cloud of warm air came and went amongst the snowfall as Ingo huffed through his nose. His gaze stayed set on his home, now visible up the hill. “It was only one meal.”

That’s how it always starts.

Ingo of course seemed forgiving enough over the situation, mostly wanting to drop it and move on more than anything. But he opted to keep his hand against his belly as it continued to churn miserably, regardless of his feelings or forgiveness.

And that kept Akari’s conscience from allowing her to accept his forgiveness.

————

Ingo opened the door to his home for Akari, who hurried out of his coat and into the warmer interior. The warden followed, promptly closing the door behind him so as not to let the snow and cold become another guest in his home - the settlement’s homes were plenty sturdy and insulating, but with an rarely-used hearth and an owner who spent many nights in the highlands, it was already cold enough.

With the closed door came the absence of the already-weak ambient light from outside. Ingo fumbled around in the darkness for a moment, making his way to his table.

“You may take the bed,” Ingo spoke to wherever she was in the room as his hand searched for his lantern on the table. “I will instead make up a spot on the fl-“

Ingo should have known better though. When he finally lit the lantern and illuminated his empty, single-room home, Akari was already pulling down a handful of extra blankets from his shelves next to his bed. And he had quite a lot for her to pull from; Pearl clan folk really loved their thick winter blankets.

“It’s ok!” Akari huffed, dropping the heavy blankets onto the floor next to Ingo’s bed. “I’m already getting this set up for myself.”

The warden watched her for a moment, before shaking his head with a look of disapproval, but understanding; he knew she wouldn’t budge, and he had no energy for a battle he already knew would be uphill.

“If that is what you’d like,” Ingo slipped his tattered coat off, folding it haphazardly on a chair beside the table. His hat followed after, set down near the lantern, before he went back to the door and gently nudged his shoes off by the wall.

Ingo suspected Akari had hurried into his home first to beat him to it, as if she knew he would say such a thing. Was he so predictable, that she could now expect when he would make such offers?

Indeed, Akari had, and she was glad Ingo didn’t seem to put up much of a fight on it. She had already technically taken his dinner from him, and felt guilty enough about that. To take his bed too? She couldn’t imagine doing that!

Plus, she felt a night on the floor would be much kinder to her back than Ingo’s - she would always wake up fine enough after spending nights sleeping out on the ground of Hisui’s wilderness, but Ingo always had to do some (quite painful) morning stretches when he did the same thing. She suspected it didn’t help his habitual slouch.

But still, Akari preferred a soft resting place when she could get one. She smoothed out the pile of soft, bulky blankets on the chilled wooden floor of Ingo’s home, before going back to the shelf to look for a pillow, or at least a pillow substitute.

“When I get up tomorrow to depart for my station at Jubilife Village’s training grounds, you may return back with me.” Ingo offered to Akari as he made his way to the other side of the room. “I often depart at sunrise.”

He must have seen Akari’s resulting face of displeasure at the thought of such an early rise, because his frown softened.

“I apologize, I know it is early. But I must leave the station by then, in order to stay on track and maintain my schedule.”

“-no, it’s ok, I don’t mind!” Akari hurriedly reassured him as she stood back to admire the handiwork of her now-finished makeshift bed.

Hmm…she still needed a pillow.

“It’s just that I think your ‘early’ is much, well…earlier, than my ‘early’.”Akari explained as she pulled one of Ingo’s thinner blankets off of his shelf, having not found an actual extra pillow to use. She ran her hand across the surface. This one looked suspiciously like abomasnow fur, shaggy, clunky, and white - but surprisingly soft, and it smelled faintly of old pine.

As she folded it up to somewhat resemble a pillow, she wondered how the Pearl Clan was able to get fur from such an imposing Pokémon. Did abomasnow shed? Surely, Pearl Clan weren’t fearless enough to hunt abomasnow, given how wary they were with Pokémon…were they?

She placed the folded blanket down as she disregarded the train of thought, patting it flatter to make it an acceptable substitute for a pillow.

“If you are not up by then, I will wake you when it is time to depart, if you’d like.” Ingo offered. “Tomorrow starts early, but the schedule is thankfully laid-back. It can allow for plenty of rest.”

“Then tomorrow, can we go to The Wallflower for potato mochi?” Akari added. She loved going to The Wallflower with Ingo after his days at the dojo’s training grounds, but for now she was a bit hurried to suggest relief to him.

Oh how Ingo wished they had a plate of the stuff in front of them now.

“Yes, we can,” Ingo returned to the lantern on the table, snuffing out the only light source in the room. With the absence of the light, the previously orange-glowed coziness that filled the room dimmed to a colder, blue darkness. “But for now, we must consider sleep, as the time for departure tomorrow will arrive quickly.”

Akari moved to her makeshift bedding, before nudging her shoes off and undoing her satchel from around her waist, placing them both beside the bedding. Pulling the heavy blankets up to wiggle under the soft, warm layers, she reached into the satchel beside her to click open a pokeball nestled inside.

Out emerged Ember, Akari’s faithful quilava; in the dark room, the hot spots lining its back glowed faintly.

“Hey Ember,” Akari gently pet her companion, and with a yawn, she crawled under the covers of Akari’s blankets to snuggle up next to her.

Akari had made a habit of sleeping with Ember beside her; it was comforting, and the gentle fire-type was a natural heater - something Akari valued most nights, but it was especially treasured in the cold Icelands.

While Akari snuggled with her warm companion, Ingo slipped off his tunic and folded it at the table, retiring to his own bed in his thick insulating underlayer. The girl heard him let out a sigh of relaxation as he settled under the covers, moving his weight off of his feet, and onto the bed.

It felt good to finally lie down in a soft bed after gathering all day in the rough highlands. Even sitting in the mess hall hadn’t been as nice; the benches were rough and had no backs to rest against.

“Goodnight, Ingo,” Akari snuggled further into the thick, Mamoswine-fur blankets with Ember as she glanced up at Ingo’s bedside.

“Goodnight, Miss Akari,” the warden returned from his place in the bed. A following shift in the covers indicated he turned onto his side, which seemed to be his favored sleeping position.

It told the girl it would be best to let him sleep now, rather than keep talking (not like she would, though…it’s rude to keep talking after you tell someone goodnight!). So she pulled her blankets up to her nose and sunk her head into her thick substitute pillow, letting the insulating fabric warm her and Ember up, protecting them from the colder atmosphere of the large room.

————

As the night drifted on, creeping towards early morning at an agonizingly slow pace, Akari stared up at the high, open ceiling from her spot on the floor, Ember pressed beside her.

She still had not fallen asleep.

The windows softly illuminated the walls of the otherwise-dark room with squares of ambient lighting, dulled more than normal from the snowstorm that beat down on the settlement outside. Thankfully, the thick sturdy structure muted the storm on the other side, leaving the room in a cozy, drifting silence.

Well, it was mostly silent, except for the loud, incessant noises Ingo’s growling stomach had been making ever since they both went to bed.

And from the occasional sigh of annoyance in between, or soft creaking of the bed as he readjusted his position under the heavy covers to try and get more comfortable, Akari could tell Ingo was unfortunately still awake.

From the inattentive way he moved and muttered to himself, Akari figured he thought she was asleep by now, unable to hear him - after all, she had stayed silent, and it had been about an hour or so since she bid him goodnight.

But how could she get to sleep? With every shift or sound of discomfort he made, the knot of guilt only wove itself tighter in Akari’s chest, keeping her awake.

It was hard for Ingo to get to sleep on an empty stomach, but it was harder for Akari to get to sleep listening to it.

She saw that Ingo had an audio player next to his bed - an appliance from the rifts that she had given to him a while back to help him sleep. But he hadn’t turned it on, most likely so as not to disturb Akari’s sleep.

But she wished he had turned it on, as it would probably help her sleep better in more ways than one - it would help dull the sounds that were keeping her guilty conscience up.

But, Akari said nothing. She didn’t want him knowing she was still conscious and listening; she knew it would probably embarrass him to no end if he did. So she just laid there, quiet from within her warm bundle of insulating blankets.

Another exhausted shift of the covers broke the short-lived silence.

Another empty growl followed soon after.

Another exasperated sigh wearily completed one more cycle of the restless pattern.

Akari wanted to cram the snow from outside into her ears.

Instead, she opted to finally move, and slowly pulled the blankets over her head, careful not to make a sound. She quietly slipped further under them in an attempt to block the guilt-inducing sounds, and sleep.

She found that Ember was thankfully sleeping, nestled up next to her as she pressed her head into the blankets to muffle the sounds. At least under here, she could attempt to focus on her own thoughts.

Why did Ingo have to give up eating dinner so that she could get a plate?

She had seen that the food was practically all prepared beforehand for a certain expected number of people, and Ingo and herself had honestly arrived pretty late.

But couldn’t they just simply make one more plate? She was only one more person!

And why was Ingo so insistent on keeping her from saying anything out loud about not finishing food? His reaction had concerned her.

Did it have something to do with a tradition involving the responsibility of inviting non-clan members? Or something with pride in their food preparation, that prevented them from quickly throwing something together in a rush? Maybe they simply just had strict rules about wasting food.

Was that why every single conversation she had had with someone tonight seemed so strained, or forced?

Whatever the reasoning was, Akari just knew that Ingo was the one who was paying for her choices, and she hadn’t meant for that to happen.

And Ingo didn’t have to try and hide from her the fact that he was hungry. She knew he was only human, and had limits just like everyone else. But she didn’t like that he was hungry right after dinner, and it was because of her.

She really should have gone back with Lady Sneasler, when Ingo gave her the option.

Akari closed her eyes as she sunk her head further into the comforting blankets.

She would right this tomorrow, somehow.

————

“Ingo, why is Akari still here with you?” Irida asked as Akari did what the warden had asked of her, and headed for his designated table.

Something closer to worry than anger was heard in the Pearl clan leader’s hushed, private-conversation voice, but both were present. Appearing comparable to a puffed-up rufflet, she uncrossed her arms to gesture to the crowd of tables, a move that caught a few passive glances. “I thought you said Lady Sneasler was going to help take her back! We can barely manage as is, especially with what’s been happening! You know that!”

“I sincerely apologize, Lady Irida, it was entirely unscheduled. As Akari explained, Lady Sneasler was stationed outside, waiting to take her back, but by the time I went to return Akari to her, she had already departed. The weather was unfavorable, and I suspect she had to leave in order to reach her kits in time.” Ingo began to explain as he broke eye contact, rubbing the back of his neck in a sheepish manner; he knew things were tight just as well as anyone else right now.

Especially with what was happening as of late.

But he did not want to place the final blame on Akari. She didn’t know.

“I do not blame my noble, she did what I would have wanted of her, and departed to ensure the safety of her kits, even though it left Miss Akari stranded at the station. And I found I obviously could not turn her away; there was no other option. I am well aware of the…’situation’, Lady Irida, but she is not. I could not tell her.”

Understanding of Ingo’s predicament settled into Irida’s features as her bristled look softened some.

Of course! How could Akari, a non-clan member, have known? Especially when she had worked so hard to make sure her clan kept such issues under the surface, away from any possible prying eyes and assuming minds? Ingo had made sure to keep it that way, just as she requested of all of her clan, and she appreciated it - especially with someone he was as close to as Akari.

But it didn’t wash out the worry that still clung to the leader’s frame, puppetting her to shift her weight from one foot to the other as she stood in place.

“Well,” Irida began, switching tracks from accusation to reasonability. “How should we handle this then? Akari is a guest here, but we didn’t prepare enough for an extra plate. And to be honest Ingo, I don’t think we can. I know, it’s just one more plate. But things are stretched so thin as it is. We already had to pull from some of tomorrow’s stock. We can’t…mhm…”

Her voice trailed off, but Ingo knew she didn’t want to end that sentence with ‘give her an empty plate.’ She couldn’t. Ingo was well aware of how hard it was for Irida to deal with the reality of things concerning their provisions, considering how severely such problems shaped her upbringing, and rushed leadership position.

But things were better now.

Still far from great, but better than they had been.

“Lady Irida,” Ingo spoke up after giving his clan leader a time to continue if she chose; his expression was one of hesitance, only wincing more as he carried on. “If I may suggest a compromise I have been considering; Akari arrived with me, unannounced and not allowing time for anyone else to make due preparations. She is my responsibility in this situation, not yours, or anyone elses’ in the clan. So, let me take care of it.”

He paused a moment, as if already knowing her reaction, and he braced for it.

“Allow me to forgo dinner, if it means she receives a plate.”

Immediately, just as Ingo had expected, Irida flared up again at the proposition, but it came from a place of concern.

“Ingo!” She made a gesture a bit more grand than she probably meant to, catching the attention of a few clan members at the table closest to them. She caught on, and quickly hushed her voice further. “I cannot have you just-! You…wardens are important! Your jobs are strenuous-!”

Ingo’s frown deepened as Irida went on, but his eyes expressed emptathy; her stammering habit was beginning to pepper her speech. He didn’t mean to stress her out so much.

“As is, there isn’t much, you can’t start skipping meals! Winter is just starting, I can’t have people skipping meals already! We can’t go down this path, or people will get sick again! We can’t have you get…get sick, and- look, maybe I can-“

“Lady Irida,” Ingo attempted to slow her down as he held his hands up, both so clan members would stop looking, and that Akari wouldn’t get suspicious - he had become aware she was watching the two of them talking, and while he couldn’t do much to hide their body language, he hoped she couldn’t read lips. “It is alright. I assure you, I will not get sick. It is just one meal. Akari is our guest, and one who has been of great help to our clan; she even helped gather the food we brought in…but she is also a child, and we make sure the children always eat. How can we make her the exception to that? Especially after what she's done for us?”

These words of reasoning appeared to move Irida back to a more logical mindset, and she seemed to take them into deep consideration. But Ingo could tell she was not entirely convinced; she’d need one more push.

“…Please tell me you had something earlier today at least,” Irida pried, clearly trying to weigh such an important decision.

Ingo quickly reviewed the day in his mind. He’d had a late breakfast with Lady Sneasler, having foraged for themselves before gathering the provisions they’d found for tonight.

He knew that wouldn’t be good enough for Irida.

“Yes…I already ate something shortly before departing to return back here.” Ingo reached up to readjust his hat by the brim in a nervous manner, lying through his teeth all the while. “My cab is sufficiently refueled.”

Not only was Ingo terrible at lying - his nervous habit of readjusting his cap by the brim was a giveaway - he also hated doing it, especially towards his clan leader, who he had immense respect for. But making sure Akari got something was of utmost importance to him; being a growing teenager, he felt she needed it more than him. And from the way the snow was rushing down through the darkness outside, he knew he would have to provide her with shelter for the night. And he would not have her going to sleep hungry.

He was unsure what Irida would choose to do if he didn’t offer this, but this way, he was easing her stress and giving her an easy out of a hard situation, as well as guaranteeing Akari a meal.

After holding his breath for an answer, Irida’s features expressed something akin to reluctant acceptance, and she shook her head, finally moving her gaze off of the warden.

“If you’re sure…ok.” was all she told Ingo, turning to go back into the kitchen. “I’ll let them know Akari will get your plate.”

Relief loosened Ingo’s stiff figure as he watched Irida enter the kitchen, but with her back turned to him, he hadn’t seen that the worry still did not leave her face.

Irida knew Ingo was lying to her, it was clear as day; she knew Ingo had spent all day gathering, and would never take something for himself out of the provisions he had gathered for the settlement.

But she did not want to drag that conversation out long enough for other people to start listening. It felt awkward for her to call a bluff on someone who was older than her, despite being the clan leader. And as a guest, (particularly one who had done so much for the Pearl Clan) Irida had felt obligated to offer Akari their best hospitality, despite having none to actually provide.

However, Ingo was trying very hard to give her an opportunity to do so. And while she didn’t particularly like it, she saw the importance of the compromise as an opportunist, and would not waste it.

Irida disappeared into the kitchen, to let the working clan members know Akari would be allowed to take a plate, and to not expect Ingo to come up for one.

Relatively satisfied with how the conversation had ended, Ingo turned back to see Akari watching, and guess how much of that she had figured out.

[oldbutnotyetwise]

One More Day

     One More Day.  What do you think of when you hear that?  Maybe that Country Music Song by Diamond Rio.  You know the one, 

Last night I had a crazy dream

A Wish was granted just for me

It could be for anything

I didn’t ask for money

or a mansion in Malibu

I simply wished for one more day with you.

     Or perhaps you think of the other song of the same name from the Musical Les Mis that is sung by the lead character Jean Valjean.

     Or perhaps you are less musical and more  inclined towards books and movies in which case you might think of the book by Mitch Albom of the same name, which was then made into a TV movie.

     All of these are about getting another day with a loved one after someone has died.  They are about regret, wishing a wish that can never come true, other than in a song, book or movie.

     My body is slowly dying, leaving my able mind trapped inside this shell of a body, a body that was once able, but now is very unable.  So please excuse my premature One More Day, I’m not dead…yet, but my one more day is about having one more day inside a capable, working body, and how I would choose to spend it. 

     What follows is not a perfect day, I’m not sure that “A Perfect Day” actually exists.  What follows is a good day, a very good day spent as I wish I could spend it, if only my body hadn’t one day become the enemy, always looking to gain more ground in its war against me.

     My day would start off just before Sunrise when I would make love to my beautiful wife Robin.  Afterwards we would lay in bed, wrapped in each other’s arms, under the Comforter as we watched a remarkable sunrise through our bedroom window.  The sun slowly creeping up, peaking just above the eastern horizon and slowly chasing the darkness away, as well as the fog that often lingered in the valley, offering all the hope that comes with a new day.

     I would then get myself up and out of bed, I would put on my running gear and go for a nice comfortable 10 K run with my daughter Elizabeth.  It would be down country roads and dirt paths, we would run across deer and other wildlife enjoying their early morning, they would just look up at us as we casually ran by before returning to their grazing.  Elizabeth and I would enjoy easy conversation about any number of things, the kind of conversation that only a father and daughter who are also friends can partake in.

     After the run we would return home where Robin would have made us a delicious breakfast consisting of an Omelette, Bacon, Home-fries and Toast.  We would enjoy the delicious food, the three of us would laugh as we shared good conversation while the dogs laid at our feet.

     After breakfast the three of us would take the dogs for a hike around our farm property.  While Tia would be bounding off into the surrounding fields and woods, popping out every once in a while to check on our progress, Kiwi would forever be dropping her stick in front of us, sad brown eyes looking up at us, pleading with us to throw the stick for her.  

     Then I would get on my tractor with the Bush Hog and I would go out and work on the hiking trails for an hour or two, cleaning them up, smoothing dirt out, removing any limbs that had fallen across the trail or perhaps digging up and moving a boulder that was in the way.  

     After a delicious lunch made with vegetables freshly picked from our garden Robin and I would go for a hike on the trails I had been working on, holding hands, looking for any changes, wondering how long ago the bear had been there pooping on the trail.  We would stop repeatedly, looking around at our property amazed at how incredibly fortunate we were to get to live in this incredible piece of land that seemed so disconnected from the outside world.

     After we returned home I would go out to the workshop where I would pick out a beautiful piece of Olive wood that I would turn on my lathe, and then after applying the finish I would assemble a new wooden pen that I would put aside until I give to some dear friend who I thought would appreciate it. 

     It will be time for supper soon but I will sneak out on my motorcycle for a quick ride exploring some nearby dirt and gravel roads.  It feels good to ride for the joy of riding rather than needing to get somewhere. 

     Once back home Robin, Elizabeth and I quickly get on our way to a quaint little Italian Restaurant, the kind that is dimly lit, with bright red velvet curtains and small votive candles on the tables covered with red tablecloths.  The restaurant is closed for a private event  tonight, it is a gathering of my closest friends (you know who you are).  There is no head table, just tables set side by side and around in a rectangle with no one on the inside so everyone can see each other.  My meal starts with warm fresh bread and rolls on the table, from the aroma of the warm bread I know it will taste as good as it smells.   Then a serving of Roasted Red Pepper Soup that is just slightly spicy that warms me from my mouth down to my stomach.  After the soup a plate of Chicken Parmigiana with a side of pasta in red sauce is placed in front of me.  The sauce is nice and thick, the chicken parmigiana is a good sized piece smothered in cheese, and there is Parmesan Cheese generously sprinkled over the entire plate.  Once my plate is mostly empty I use the bread and rolls to mop up any sign of sauce on the plate, so much so that it looks like it should go back on the shelf rather than in the dishwasher.  The finale is the Creme Brûlée which comes out perfectly browned and crusty on the top.  I hit the top of it with the back of my spoon and watch the cracks spread before digging in and getting the right balance of custard and crusty topping on my spoon.  As the meal comes to a close I acknowledge that I have eaten too much, but I have no regrets.

     Now before I leave I have time to visit. Somehow the clock has been stopped and I get all the time I want to spend with each and everyone of these incredible people before having to say goodnight.  As I get ready to leave I stop at the door and look back at the faces of my best and dearest friends looking back at me and my heart is bursting with love and gratitude for having these extraordinary people in my life.

     Later upon returning home my friend Suzanne has come over and together we play our guitars and sound just like the amateur folk duo that we are as we sing songs from the 60’s and 70’s.  

     As the sun is starting to head for the horizon the last dog walk of the day is undertaken, the breeze is moving the branches of the nearby trees, the birds are all quiet now, the slight scent of smoke from a neighbour’s wood stove, and not a sound of civilization can be heard.  Kiwi and Tia are enjoying their last out as mother nature paints the sky with shades of red, orange and yellow.  I stand there watching the sun dip below the horizon, the light of the day evaporating before my eyes.  I make my way back to the house, my favourite place in the world, my safe place.  Before I go inside I pause and stare up at the incredible night sky jamb packed full of stars, a sight only country people get to enjoy.

     Everyone else has gone home, Robin is waiting there at the kitchen table with a game of Backgammon set up.  As she often does Robin gets an inexplicably large amount of double sixes and beats me two games to one, and I smile as she does her happy victory dance about the kitchen.  

     Together we go to our bedroom, get undressed and climb into bed.  We exchange our nightly I Love You's, wrap our arms around one another, our bodies tightly held against each other, cheek to cheek while we slowly drift off to sleep.  The day ends as it has begun, in the arms of love.

     I wasn’t able to fit everything into this day, there was no Cribbage game with my dear friend, no game of Mexican Train Dominoes with whatever friends were visiting, no time spent sipping scotch with a friend who enjoys the same elixir, no savouring a warm cup of tea with my old partner from work, no heart to heart chat with my close friend, no meeting with my friend for our Thai lunch, no working in the garden in my overalls until my brow was covered in a pasty combination of dirt and sweat.  Clearly one day wasn’t long enough.

     How would you choose to spend your day if you had the opportunity to pick from all your favourite things to do and people to be with?  Oh wait, that’s right.  You are probably physically capable of making a day like that happen, so I guess the second question is why don’t you?

[ask-de-writer]

Return to the Master Story Index

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SUBMARINE! 1812 an Alternate History

Chapter 6 : KRAKEN

(Part 2 of 5)

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

5462 words

© 2023 by Glen Ten-Eyck

All rights reserved.

This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

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~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

Our carriages thrust through the press of the rejoicing crowd that presently filled Liberty Square. Arnold Way was the street that formed the north side of the Square. The Presidential Mansion took up the entire north side of the Square.

Green Jacket Marines kept back the cheering throng, as we filed into Number One, Arnold Way, the residence of presidents and the seat of administration since the revolution. We were met by none other than President Benedict Arnold, himself. Now in his seventies, he was still hale and hearty. He grasped the hand of each of us as we entered the foyer and greeted us by name.

“Commodore Marks! Gentlemen! You are most welcome! Your journey has been long. To make up for that, dinner has been laid out on the sideboards in the dining room. Commodore Martin is here along with many other notables ... Even,” and here he smiled yet more broadly, “the ambassador of the United Kingdom, Sir Lional Humphries.”

In a high good humor, he conducted us to the dining room. Many candle sconces provided the light, showing high ceilings and a simple understated elegance of decor that spoke volumes about the man who lived here and ran the country.

Among the guests, I saw the unmistakable frowning profile of Sir Lional. I also saw the jubilant Mr. Smollet, chief naval architect of the Cuttlefish Project. Admiral Martin waved to me from his place at the table. I was headed his way, while some heads turned in surprise. Sir Lional’s eyes followed me with calculation. I was stopped by a hand on my elbow.

A firmly commanding yet friendly voice said, “Tecumsah, I have not been able to spare the time to visit your mother’s lodge, these last few years. I have missed my other family. We write back and forth, but it is not the same as a visit. Will you share news from home with me?”

“Mister President, ...” I began, turning to him.

“Such formality from one who first made himself known by spitting up on my weskit,” he interrupted with mock severity. “What happened to ‘uncle Benny’?”

About the room many mouths formed ‘o’s of surprise. Even Sir Lional seemed taken aback.

“I thought the occasion too formal for such familiarity,” I excused myself.

“Never. This dinner is as much a chance to see you again, and hold converse with a friend old and honest enough to hold me in no awe, as it is to celebrate mighty deeds of war. After this pow-wow is over, we shall have to have a long talk of old friends and family.”

“I shall look forward to it,” I replied with true enthusiasm. “Is that centerpiece on the buffet what it appears to be?”

“Indeed, to honor you, son of my spirit. Bison hump and haunch from the Onida herds,” he said in perfect Iroquois.

“Then I shall have to get some, to honor the giver, Uncle,” I responded in the same language. Then in English, I added, “That food looks too good to miss and I see another old friend over by the buffet. I haven’t seen Jean since the Academy. He was a year behind me, and I sort of took him under my wing.”

“Go then, youngster, so long as we talk later.”

“My word on it.”

I made my way across the crowded room to the buffet.

By the sideboard was the French Ambassador, Jean, Count du Coucy, an old school chum. He had been fortunate enough to be studying at the Continental Congress Naval Academy when the French threw off their royalty. When Napoleon had come to power, the First Citizen had instated him as Ambassador, and returned his estates.

“So, filling your plate with meat and treats outranks words with your President?”

“Jean,” I smiled, “it is good to see you again. Letters, be they ever so often, are no substitute for a handshake and word face to face. Mister Arnold and I were merely arraigning time for a real talk, later.”

Sir Lional was edging closer, to overhear what a mere Lieutenant of the Navy might have to say to both the President and the French Ambassador. I decided to give him an earful.

“How is it that you never mentioned Mr. Arnold during our Academy days?” inquired Jean.

“Then, as now, he hates notoriety. He is an old family friend from the days of the War of Independence, no more.”

“No more!?” Jean seemed shocked. “The hero of the Great War, the conqueror of Canada, the man who formed, and brought to your Union, the Indian State, Senator for how many years, and now President twice over, only an old family friend? How did that happen?”

“It goes back to when my grandfather, on my mother’s side, Tall Bear, saved the general’s life at the second battle of Ontario ...” I began, but was interrupted.

“Do you mean the Tall Bear, who took the colonies of St. Laurence and New Found Land?” cut in the impeccably British accents of Sir Lional.

“Why yes, I do. My grandfather. Though I wasn’t talking to you,” I rebuked gently. “Yet you are welcome to join us. The minced bison pasty is excellent.”

“I thank you, but no. I am not here to eat. You have the ear of the President and the French Ambassador.” He shot a poisonous look at Jean. “You must be a valuable go-between. I am surprised that President Arnold would allow you to be risked in a small squadron at war on the high seas.”

“The risk seemed small enough. Besides I have been involved in improving the range and accuracy of our Congreves for the last ten years. I wanted to see them perform in field conditions.”

“Should he be hearing that?” asked Jean. “It is a secret, yet.”

“My tongue is not so loose as all that. We will be unveiling them tonight. Besides, little goes on in the Continental Congress that Sir Lional does not know of. You have had reports of our activities in rocketry for what, about ten years?”

Sir Lional had the grace to look away in embarrassment. “Something like that,” he muttered.

“If you are not here for the party and food, why are you here?”

To be continued

<==PREVIOUS ~~ NEXT==>

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[lizzypotter14]

The Places in Which You Find Love

Conversations that you have with your friends, especially those at night, can provide you with so many ideas for a fic.  This is one of them.  Thank you @swimmingismywholelife for the inspiration, and to @chelseagirl98 for let me bounce my ideas,  Puligirls this one if for you.

warning: fluff

It is great to be back home, and do ordinary things without being mobbed, asked for autographs, or slipping a piece of paper with ‘call me’  and a phone number on it, in your hands or car.  I love the fans but sometimes I just need to decompress after a game, especially a tough one.

Tonight, is just  another gorgeous summer night in Hershey, Pennsylvania. Most of the  day,  I had been hanging out with friends, catching up with our lives, and making plans for my time after nations league camp and games.  The only discomfort of the night was the constant questions of ‘what’s next’ or ‘do you know what your next move will be’ coming from people that suddenly remember me from high school, but never really gave me the time of the day back then.  My real friends, the ones that had been with me from the start, know how uncomfortable that made me and were not surprised when I excused myself and took my leave from them.

Leaving the get together to head home, I made an impulsive decision, and took a quick stop to the McDonald’s drive thru.  The one closest to home has just been recently remodeled and now has two drive-through lanes. As it was Friday night, and one of the few places open after eleven pm, both lanes were quite busy.  I found myself in the right lane ,placing a simple order of large fries and a Coke, which I think I can indulge on before getting back to a strict diet and watching what I am eating. As I started moving forward, the car on my left side moved, cutting me off completely.  The funny thing about the entire situation was that I got cut and still got the horn blared at me.  Shaking  my head, I can just stare at the car approaching the pay window, a slender set of fingers passing a credit card to the attendant and heading afterwards to the next window to receive their meal.

To make matters even more crazy, not only I was cut off by the mysterious driver, but also my order went to them.  The teenager at the window recognized me when I pulled in and, after asking me for an autograph, politely requested me to park in one of the number spots, so they could trade my order with the previous car.

“Don’t worry about it.  I see that they have parked too so I just going to exchange things myself”

“Are you sure, Mr. Pulisic?  It is not a problem for us to do it”.

“No worries.  Don’t want to cause any hold ups during a busy night.  Thanks”.

As I parked next to the other vehicle, I exited the car while the other driver did the same.  A heavy but sweet accent follows the female figure approaching me.

“I apologized as I seemed to have taken your order.  Also, I cut you off and I know it was my fault but I’m just starving and got off from work and…”

“Whoa! Slow down.  You seemed stressed”.

“I…” and that was when she finally lifted her face to properly look at me.  I can see the moment that she realizes who she has been talking to.

“You are Christian Pulisic”.

“Yes, I am.  But we seem to be at a disadvantage.  You know my name, but I don’t know yours”.

Extending her hand towards me, she just said “hi, I am y/n y/l.  Nice to meet you.  And again, so sorry for taking your order, and cutting you off”.

Chuckling, I just stared at her.  She was easy to look at.  Medium length brown hair, caramel eyes, and a ready and shy smile.  This situation was refreshing to be completely honest.

“Nice to meet you too, and please stop apologizing and don’t worry about it”.

“Here’s your order.  I think I stole some fries before realizing that the order wasn’t mine”.

“And here is yours.  If you don’t mind me asking, would you like to go somewhere nearby and eat our food together?” I really don’t know where this bravado to ask came from, but it was out before I had the time to process it.

She just stared at me for a long time, and when I was giving up about receiving an answer, and ready to take it all back, she simply said “lead the way”, and turned around to get back in her car.

I don’t know what is going on with me, as this is as far from character as I am, but I got into my car, and after making sure that she was following me drove towards a park close by.  I waited for her to park next to me before leaving my car and heading to a picnic table.

“Do you do things like this with every girl that you just meet?”

“No.  If I’m honest, this is my first time”.

“Do you expect me to believe you?”

Getting extremely closer to her, I whispered “I do”.

I can feel her staring straight into my soul looking for an answer.  I guessed I passed when she finally sat down, opened her bag, and said, “you sound and look sincere enough”.

“Glad you approved” I said, finally sitting opposite her.

At first, we ate quietly, and slowly we started talking. It was refreshing and unique.  I opened more to this stranger than I had done with my family and friends, and I had the feeling that she felt the same way.  I learned that she was in her last year of college and that this summer she was working, remote, with a sports agency, and when we bumped into each other, she had just come back home from a trip to see a prospect at a Triple A team nearby.

We lost track of time, and before we knew it,  I checked my phone just to see that it was 3:30 am. I couldn’t believe how much we covered in the short amount of time; I feel like I have known her my entire life and we were just catching up.  Do not want the night, or morning, to be over.

“Christian…”

“Just Chris”.

“Chris, we should leave, not that I want to do it. This is the best time I had in a very long time, but I bet this was not in your radar, and you have things to do later”, she said picking our trash and dropping everything in the trash can. 

 “You are right, but can I asked you something before we go?”

“Sure”.

“I would love to have your number and continue hanging out with you and exploring this”.

“I-I will love that too”.

We exchanged numbers and agreed to meet later in the day.

The next couple of weeks passed too quickly for my licking and before I knew it, it was time to head for camp.  Normally, I enjoyed this time, as I get to hangout with some of my favorite people but for some reason, this time felt different.

I found myself hanging out with y/n, the day before leaving and she looks so sad.

“Are you okay? You seemed upset”.

“Not upset.  Sad is the right word.  I had spent so much time with you and your friends, that I find myself dreading the next couple of weeks when you will be away”.

“I feel the same.  I know this is early but, would you… can we…

”Spelled it out, Chris”.

“Would you like to take this, us, a little more seriously?”

“Like…”

“You are going to make me say it”.

“Yes”.

“Cruel but here it goes.  I know this is way too early, and maybe cliché, but I do  not want us to stop seeing each other or stop talking. We can take it as slow as we want, but I would love to give this, us a try”

“Are you sure?’

“Never surer of anything in my life.  Would you go, with me, in this adventure?”

Approaching me slowly, she put her arms on my neck and pulling me closer, she kissed me slowly and deeply.  Can’t believe that an unexpected detour brought into my life one of the best things so far.

@swimmingismywholelife @chelseagirl98 @lovelynikol16 @thoseboysinblue @bracedes @mortirolo @neverinadream @notsoattractivearenti @pulisicsgirl @masonsrem @masonspulisic

[rouge-wolf]

A Forgotten Friend Sherlock x Fem Reader

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Dearmad Manor: Grand Saray, Cordona

7:56 pm

"I'm glad I didn't run into anyone. I truly needed a peaceful walk home to clear my head. I should check for mail, perhaps.... No. It's been ages. He wouldn't have sent a letter now, of all things." I mutter under my breath, walking to the mailbox; an idiotic sense of hope made itself known against my will. Slowly I open the lid, but nothing.

"Of course, I have taken care of any bills for the month, and I'm not exactly fully part of the 'in' crowd of Cordona except for the few art shows of Vogle's I attend. I shook my head at the memory of Vogle's last attempt to make me attend one of the parties he regularly attends, flicked in front of my eyes like a film. Unlocking the front door, I sigh and close my eyes as I lean against it, effectively shutting it and adding to my dramatics. 'I wonder what I should eat. What do I even have in the kitchen?' 

_____________________________________________________________

Il Palazzo del Lusso: Grand Saray, Cordona

7:40 pm 

Sherry finally made it down to the bar as I claimed our table. I wonder what she is up to. I don't think Sherry remembers her. Hell! he doesn't remember much from his time on Cordona, almost like that's the whole point of us being here, Jon. I roll my eyes at myself, something usually reserved for Mycroft and whenever Sherry is stupid. How long does it take to grab food? I had an entire introspection session.

I walked up to the bar with two platters of marlin ceviche for the taking, not that we needed two. One will suffice. 

"If seafood is not to your taste, everyone loves 'Benedict's Batch' - our poached eggs with a hollandaise sauce!" The bartender informs me. 

I got bored waiting at the table, so I looked around the foyer and found something quite intriguing. 

"Hey Sherry, just our luck!" I called, gaining his attention. 

"A medium? Jon, haven't we been through this already?"

"Come on! It's not like we got anything better to do!" 

After what I would call a masterpiece of convincing by yours truly, a rather intriguing character walks down the staircase. Hopefully, the table I found is still empty. 

"Excuse me, sir, but I believe Mr. Ghalichi is conducting a seance at the moment," I could care less about Mr. Ghalichi's scam. "Perhaps you would care to have your portrait drawn while you wait?" 

"Why?" Perhaps I could find some entertainment in a short conversation.

"Pardon me?"

"Why should I sit for a portrait?"

"I- Sir... It's art. It doesn't need a 'why.' It is its own justification." How dull.

"All things require justification, be they objects, systems, or beliefs."

"How about, 'art is the lens through which we see the truth of the world' ?" 

"That's backwards. Truth is not subjective and not complicated. It's just the truth - either it is or it isn't. You do not need a lens to see it, just an open mind." This artist is quite annoying but the most entertaining thing in the room.

"Ha. That seems rather close-minded. Truth, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder. So tell me, what do you see?" He holds out the sketch he has been working on. 

"Mediocrity," I respond, and the artist finally walks off.

"Come now, Sherry, what did he do to deserve that? The servant mentioned Ceviche at the bar, Sherry. You should grab us some, and I'll find us a table. I'm starving." I say, heading toward the table I claimed earlier as Sherry went to the bar.

I could feel my eyes roll at Jon. I had tried to grab a platter earlier, only to have him call me to that sign advertising a seance. I grabbed a platter, "Okay, time to check if Jon found us a nice table for the evening." I found Jon at a table with a cane lying on it.

"Sherry! I'm over here with my new ursine companion." I look at Jon.

"What are you waiting for? Put the dish down so we can tuck in!" Setting the dish down, I sit down in the plush chair.

"Cordona is even quieter than I remembered. It's going to be a long evening."

"Come now, Sherry. What say we amuse ourselves with a little game?"

"What were you thinking? Promise me it isn't nonsense- after being cooped up on that boat, I am itching for activity."

"No! As you can see, someone left a cane on our table. I simply thought you could identify its owner."

"Ugh, so it is nonsense. It will take me a minute, Jon, at most!"

"Well then, you can deliver it to him as well."

"Deliver it to him? Then what are the staff here for? Aesthetics?!"

"Stubborn, Sherry! Too stubborn! You wanted something to do." 'It makes me wonder how she put up with him; me a perfect angel.'

"Slapping oneself in the face is also 'something to do' That doesn't make it worthwhile! But all right, let me take a look."

I spare a glance at Jon before starting this arduous task.

"No matter how long you stare at the stick, it's not going to walk itself to its owner."

"The handgrip is a head of a golden Javanese statue, probably stolen from a temple. The dents suggest it has been used as a bludgeon. A crest depicting a bulb of garlic in a meadow. Perhaps the Fielding family or Meadows? Or Craven from the old English name meaning 'garlic place'? The cane is made of Ebony. It is worn, uncared for, and bears the scars of numerous hits. This cane is an expensive and ostentatious weapon. Its owner must be vain, volatile, and of noble English blood."

"Take it with you, Sherry! Let's return it to its owner."

I pick up the cane time to find its owner.

"All right, I hope you noted down your observations in your casebook. But how are you going to find this nobleman?"

"The cane itself is not enough. I may have to ask other guests if they saw who was here." I inform and begin to look for someone to ask.

_____________________________________________________________

Kitchen: Dearmad Manor 

8:00 pm 

The market is definitely on the docket for tomorrow. All I could find was a bit of sausage and two eggs. Dinner now decided, I quickly prepare it. "Hmm, I wonder what they're up to right now. Probably on a case." Putting my now-cooked food on a plate, I sat at the empty kitchen table and ate. I must have gotten lost in thought as I looked at the clock to see it was now 8:33. Picking up my plate and fork, I added them to the dishes I needed to clean.

"To clean or not to clean, that is the question." I stared at the dishes; maybe they would clean themselves…. "To clean is sadly the answer." I made quick work of the dishes. Now to get washed up and ready for bed.

With the bath filled with hot water and some rose oil, I slip out of my dress and undergarments and sink into the steaming water feeling my muscles instantly relax. Leaning my head back, I let my thoughts take over my mind once again. What would life be like with them here? More specifically, if he were here. I am certain of that, but would it have been possible for something more to have occurred? Lord knows his elder brother would protest it, saying such things are trivial for people like them. It is funny since they are only here due to their parent's love.

I slid down the tub till my head was submerged getting up after a moment. I grabbed my soap, lathering it in my hands before lathering it on my scalp rinsing it out a minute or two later. Grabbing my soap and a cloth, I quickly cleaned my body as the bath slowly lost its warmth. I got out of the tub, and pulled out the stopper, allowing the water to drain. Grabbing a fluffy towel, I dried myself off and slipped into one of my favorite nightgowns. As I lie in bed, I wonder what my dreams will show me. Maybe I will see my friends and go on an exciting adventure! I don't' even know when my eyelids finally shut.

_____________________________________________________________

Il Palazzo del Lusso: Grand Saray, Cordona

7:55 pm 

I approached an older lady by the bar. 

"Could you help me?"

"Of course. Stop me when you've heard enough." 

After conversing with her, I found out that there were three people at the table- a couple and a retired Navy officer. Observers weren't sure what happened to the couple, but the Navy officer was seen going out to the front garden for some air. I have to find him. 

"Well, even with your keen senses, Sherry, I doubt you'll find the cane's owner on your first try." Jon quipped as I made my way through to the front garden. 

"Ha! And would you be confident enough to bet on it, my friend?"

"Why not! Let's see how good you really are!" Now I must get this right can't let Jon have something to hold over me.

Once I entered the front garden, I gave a brief deduction of the people; to the right, by the gate, an affable Swedish artist who owns a pug; By the main walkway of the garden next to a lamp post, an affable Irish singer with seasonal allergies accompanied by an affable Irish diplomat with an allergy to seafood. So far not even close to who I'm looking for. Next was a Cordonian adventure, who was dehydrated and sympathetic. Then among a group of three men was a friendly Swedish secretary with back pains, a friendly French pharmacist suffering from cirrhosis, and an affable Swedish engineer that is a retired military officer. This is the man I was looking for. I asked him about the can and the couple he accompanied earlier that evening. 

The Navy officer, Mr. Rhodes, was sitting at our table with the noble couple. The men talked about yachting, and the lady was fidgeting with the cane. Perhaps she put it aside, and her husband forgot to take it when they went to meet the medium.

"Hey, Sherry, don't we now have the perfect excuse to visit the seance?"

"I'm just going to give the cane to its owner. You will not persuade me to take part in this show."

I head over to the seance room.

"Come on, if you hurry, perhaps we'll see the ghost!"

Jon started to play the piano to intensify the mood. I open the door to see a fight between the nobleman I was looking for, the medium, and a hotel staff member.

"This hotel, this island… it's full of thieves! First my cane, now my diamond! Take your hands off me! Do you even know who I am?"

I smacked the cane down onto my hand, and Jon finished his song. That seemed to get their attention.

"Hey, boy, that's my cane!"

"I get that a lot. It's a very common design."

"What…!? No, that's a custom-made-" "A joke, a joke," I cut him off, "It was left at my table in the restaurant. I thought it deserved to be returned." I handed him the cane.

"Well, I'll be- it is rare to encounter a straight-fingered truepenny these days! What a fine gentleman! But I must ask… how did you know I was the rightful owner?"

I deduce Lord Craven swiftly to the conclusion that he is a bored British nobleman.

"Simple deduction. Your cane told me everything I needed to know. I was after a strong middle-aged man, with a keen interest in adventure, noble blood, and affection for strong drinks. And if one were to go further, one may even be able to extrapolate your name from your heraldic symbol… Lord Craven."

"Marvelous! Simply Marvellous! That's me, Lord Andrew Craven! You are the real medium! You hear that, Emma?" He looks at the woman lying on the couch and then back at me.

"Well, you found my cane… perhaps you can locate my diamond too! Yes, you should do it. It will be child's play for you, mister…"

"Holmes. And if a child can do it, then I'm sure the local police can suffice."

"The police!? Why bother? I know this harlequin stole it! The only question is where is it hidden." He turned and walked across the room from me. "Fine, give me my stick, and I'll resolve the matter myself! This thief almost confessed after a single punch."

"Hm. I suspect a beating may result in answers of… questionable veracity. Fine. I shall spare you and he the trouble, if you first answer me this. You insist the medium robbed you during the seance - but what occurred exactly?" Jon seems to be enjoying this as he watches from the corner.

"Bah, it was a dirty trick! We were sitting here in the dark, chanting and holding hands, as expected. Then something began to appear from the medium, like a cloud or a bubble. The swindler called it 'ectoplasm.'"

"Ah, yes. Common in the spiritualist trade. And quite the spectacle."

"Indeed - perhaps too much. My beloved Emma screamed in horror, and I stood to defend her, attacking that cursed ghost!"

"How brave." No sarcasm was noticeable in my voice.

"But my hand hit nothing! The medium jumped away from me, and Emma fainted. I lit the candle - and the diamond was gone!"

"How does a priceless diamond become the subject of a seance? It is an unusual accoutrement."

"Emma wished to speak with its former owners. My grandfather told us it belonged to a rajah- an Indian king."

"So you were summoning long-dead Indian royalty? And, pray tell, you were expecting him to converse in English?"

"To be frank, Mr. Holmes, I don't believe in ghosts. But Emma was fascinated by the idea of meeting a real king… even a dead one."

"Well, a crown is a crown. Can you describe the stone itself?"

"A yellow diamond, not less than a hundred carats, and perfectly egg-shaped. There is not another like it!"

"Stay here, and don't touch anything. I'm going to investigate further."

"Don't fret. I'll be keeping a close eye on this thief."

I started my investigation at the table where the diamond was seen last. In the center of the table, there was a holder for the diamond. A moth brooch was in the medium's coat and a splotch of green ectoplasm was on the table. The broken wine glace had traces of rouge in its edge and a half glass of Balblair scotch along with the remains of a Por Larranaga cigar.

I walked over to the hotel staff member, who thanked me for my help to resolve the situation. Just past him and the doors to another area, a nearly broken hefty chair.

"Is it even possible for one man to lift it?"

Lord Craven suddenly spoke, "At Cambridge, I was captain of the rugby team. It was no place for weaklings."

Time to talk to the medium.

"What happened here?"

"I don't know! The ghost… I summoned it as usual, but then it all went wrong. The lady screamed and pointed at Lord Craven… And there was a shadow! Such a mystical force! It terrified the lady. And it must have taken the diamond - who else could have?"

"Do you feel the presence of any supernatural entities at the moment?"

"Are you joking, sir? My nose is broken, this maniac wants to kill me, and you're asking about the spirits?"

"I suppose this can wait. I will investigate, and the culprit will be identified."

"But this stubborn brute, Lord Craven, blames me right now! As if I could do something like that! Perhaps you can reason with him? Please!"

"Seems like you are ready to delve into your mind palace, Sherry. I'm sure you'll make some good deductions!"

I'll enter my mind palace after I've looked around some more.

"Was this covered on purpose?"

"Of course!" The medium answered, "It is very dangerous to leave a mirror exposed during a seance! The spirits may become enraged.

"Or someone may notice the trick they should not see…" I muttered.

Next to the mirror were skulls littered on a shelf, three human and one animal with a candle.

"How can you not love this stuff, Sherry!? It adds so much atmosphere to the room!"

I looked at Emma on the couch. Her skin was pale, quickened pulse and unsteady breathing.

"She's barely conscious. Bah, the feebleness of women."

"Really, Sherry? Poor thing." Although it was Jon that scolded him, he could almost hear another voice, a more feminine one say it to him. 'How odd.'

_____________________________________________________________

AN: So much dialogue in this game, but I rather keep the majority of the dialogue the same when I can and when I feel up to typing it all out... Probably a few more chapters still till Sherry and y/n meet again. Lowkey forgot how much happened before the case I want to use to reintroduce our childhood friends. If you spot nay mistakes or have any ideas on how I can improve please let me know!

Chapter 3

[survivingtheaudacity]

It has been less than 30 days into 2024 and I am ready for it to be over. The audacity of some people.

Okay friends, I want you to ask you all to do me a favor; go to those closest to you and ask how often they are made to feel uncomfortable based solely on a comment; uncomfortable enough to be fearful of there safety?

*go ahead I’ll pause with you.*

•welcome back•

It’s shocking, how often it happens. Now I want you to think about what you would do if you heard a someone telling a complete stranger at midnight; “…to go into the woods up the street and go behind the trees pull there pants down and take care of business.”

I know exactly what you’re thinking excuse me what?!? Can we get some more details??? Of course you can; picture this….

It’s 12:15 I’m out with a friend headed home but I have to pee >bad< and we’re still 30+ minutes from home. Boom! My friend is driving and sees a 711 and parks while I run in. As soon as I enter the 711 (817 Baker Road Va Beach) I see two “gentleman”behind the counter and another guy waiting for his cooking {food} so I proceed to ask if they have a restroom I can use? He tells me •no• so I thank them and walkout, as the doors closing I hear him call for me, I turn around to see why he called for me. I then turned back around assuming I have yet again dropped something and didn’t realize it)

That is when this •middle aged stranger/711 employee• tells me “ I need to go up the street; find the area that has a bunch of big trees; go behind them pull my pants down and take care of business.” now this is a shortened version of this scary statement and conversation I found myself apart of in the middle of the night, already in the middle of a massive panic attack >thank god for panic disorder< while two grown men just stand there and laugh and agree with me when I remind them that If you are convicted of indecent exposure or obscene sexual display as a third or subsequent offense, there would be a mandatory requirement that you register as a sex offender on the Sex Offender Registry. As I quickly rushed out of the 711 back to my friend; physically shaking from the entire situation the worker who made the original comment tried to get me to come back inside by calling after me laughing.

Let me point out that this entire situation happened in VaBeach who was ranked as the #1 safest city in America in June of 2020. A store employee; you know the ones your supposed to ask for help; a complete stranger who I have never met before this moment; therefore he has no idea how old I am (if I’m even over the age of 18) before making comments about me pulling my pants down.

As we drove away; my heart became just a little bit heavier and as I cried.

I thought about teenagers stopping in late at night for snacks before they have to be home. I thought of those two adults who stayed quiet. I thought about the college students who come at all hours of the night because they are within walking distance. And I pray for there safety. I thought about the worker who was so comfortable that he could say whatever he wanted without having any consequences.

This is not okay, there is not a single person who deserves to fear for there safety while simply living, much less over a simple question.

No matter who you are where you are in the world stop look around you, safety starts in watching out for those around us, say something if you can, if you can’t call your local law enforcement agency immediately and record everything

(}FYI Va is one party consent state, meaning as long as you consent to the conversation being recorded the other party can not make you stop.{)

•who is your safe call•

{Do you have a someone in your life that you can call at any time and stay on the phone with you until you feel safe?}

[if you answered no and you need someone send me a message; no matter the situation I will be your safe call no matter when or how often.]

We are all humans;

We all deserve to feel safe;

People won’t change their toxic behavior if others continue to stay quiet and allow it to continue.

If you see something, say something.

•if at any point in time you are afraid to call 911 or speak to officers you can reach out to me and I will help you however possible•

We mold the future for our youth; let’s make sure it’s a safe one.

#SurvivingTheAudacity🖤

#IfYouSeeSomethingSaySomething

I’ll leave you with this finale question for those who watch or listen but who stay quiet or walk with there invisible blinders on; can you live with yourself if something happens to them simply because you kept quiet?

—Management/ownership/corporate of the 711 on 817 Baker road VaBeach; you may want to consider hiring some new employees, or additional training for the safety of your customers —

[ruby-tuesd4y]

15 Jan 24. Mon. 18.55

I just got home from you. This time, an even quicker trip than last. You texted me, asking if I'm getting the tattoo alone. I said yes. You asked again, so I hoped, and yearned, that maybe, you want me to ask if you want to come with.

And so I did. I asked. Which you turned down. Yet again. Good thing I didn't bring my hopes up. I knew now how to be friends with you. I'm okay with being friends. I'm happy we're talking again like friends.

Desperate for the trip tomorrow, I made the last attempt to see you, at least. And I needed the powerbank anyway. So I asked. You said you'd let me borrow. I asked if you've eaten, and that I can grab food on the way. I asked, thinking we can eat together. I haven't eaten anything at all today. I would be happy to share a meal with you. You asked for a Kebab.

And so, on my way to you, I bought two– one for me, and one for you. I made my way to you, the thought of not being invited in, not even coming into mind. And so when I texted, that I'm downstairs, waiting to be let in, I was surprised that you handed me the powerbank, expecting me to leave, just like that.

Still in a trance of how quickly that happened, I was also quick to think in my feet. I said my phone is dying, which is true, and that I need to charge it up a bit before I go. At first you were denying me, and then you asked, as if surprisingly, "Oh, you want to come up?" I nodded, said I need at least a few bars before I go. So up we went.

I stood there, on my phone, as you went to talk to your computer. "Sinead," you said, "I'll be back really quickly... I need you to quit the game first... Yeah, I really want to play this game with you... Give me thirty minutes."

And I was standing there, feeling smaller and smaller upon my feet. What the fuck am I doing here, and why the fuck is he being rude? 30 minutes? All that saying while I'm hearing it? These thoughts came later as I try to wonder what he must be typing on his phone, probably, "God, she's here annoying me again." or "When will she stop?"

And so I made my presence as tiny as possible as I charged my phone. You tried to make conversation, I answered civilly, like what friends do. But deep inside, I'm insulted. I told you, "I got you two Kebabs," and you said, "Why two?" I was hoping you'd say thank you instead, because I do not know how to answer you that, I do not know how to tell you that it's supposed to be for us– one for me, and one for you.

And when I cannot last any more longer, the space constricting my breathing more and more, I excused myself to get going. And as if you haven't hurt me enough, for what reason, I don't know, you didn't even open the door. You'd usually walk me to the bus stop. You didn't even walk me to the ground floor. That's when I realized that this, whatever I am doing for you, needs to stop. I have always been nice and giving. I ignored how you hid the bag I gave you as soon as I entered your home. I chose to ignore how less and less your replies have been coming in. After all, friends talk to each other and it's not such a demand to ask for a reply. I wasn't even pushy with my presence, I choose to exist when you want me to. You're the one who keeps lurking around, following my newly made account that is obviously for myself. No– I refuse to share that part with you. What are you going to do with it anyways?

But you didn't have to be a jerk. I always try to be nice. But when people, instead of reciprocating the civility, choose to be rude instead, I sizzle, as if I'm a boiling magma inside a volcano ready to erupt. You didn't have to be a jerk.

One time, my friend asked me what is my preference with guys. I told him, I'm fine with whoever, as long as he is nice. I've always liked nice people because I grew up with my Dad always being nice to my Mom and to everyone she values. I just wanted that nicety.

But if you're going to act like a jerk for no reason, then I don't think I'd like to be around you. This, Allen, will be the last letter I write to you. You didn't have to make me hate you. If you wanted to be friends instead, why did you have to push me away?

[slinkysquid]

Boot Season

am i allowed to wear boots in the spring? as the spring is growing in, i feel my depression coming back. i’m not sure if i’ll make it. why does spring make me sad ? the idea of the winter sounds so nice to me now. Getting to curl up inside, an excuse for the extra layers and blankets i surround myself with. i call it my cocoon, but maybe it is my armor. my shell ? my invisible cloak ? a wall i build around myself to protect me from the outside world and the depths of my mind. i stay numb and warm in my cocoon, i cant feel i cant think and oh i cannot breathe. i like the dark. the only time i feel safe in my own house, is in these walls is during the dead of night. feeling the still black air that surrounds me as i drift away. the glow of my phone reflected into my teary eyes, as i block the voices in my head with music spotify defines as "melancholy". its my chill music. i hate the cold. cant stand it. i love denim jackets piled over sweaters, and yet i will never wear my black puffy coat to keep me warm. i stand silently shivering under my jumpers and jackets because i cannot look weak. because i would rather torture myself in the cold than wear something unflattering. yet i have always hated the winter. this year was not like the rest, i fought to keep my head up, i did not give my brain a minute to slip under the icy cold water of seasonal depression. and while i was not doing well, the cold kept my fingers numb so i could not move, kept my tounge frozen so i could not speak, kept my heart on ice so i could not feel. my body is thawing as the spring comes in. the floodgates of clammy cold feelings start to spread through my body and i am almost taken under. i went shopping for boots today. it is not boot season my old boots are falling apart, the fabric is splitting from the back and pooling under my heels. there are dents in the foam under my two big toes. the backs of my feet have been bleeding and scabbing over for weeks while i neglect to get new shoes or even apply bandaids to my blisters. i find a pair of boots identical to mine and slide them on, forcing my toes to squish into the ends and i close the boots, nipping the edge of my skin on the zipper. i stand up and walk a lap in these tiny shoes. my brain wants these, the overwhelming tight pressure surrounding my feet. i want to leave in these shoes despite them being arguably worse than what i had before. i yearn for the comforting pain these shoes bring me with each step. i pull on pair of black shoes, sorta boots sorta sneakers. once again i do not look at the size, only sliding them on and pulling the laces as tight as possible. there is no pain when i stand up in these. i tense up as i hear my mother behind me. i brace myself for the wave of dissatisfaction i know will roll off her skin as she comes to face me. i can feel her judgement in her deep sigh, in the steps of her shoes, her upper lip every so slighly raised, the tightness in her arms, clutching her bag towards her. ​"really? are you sure you want those?" these were not the shoes i came in for but i did leave with them. i stand in silently in line with my mum " did you talk to any of your friends at school today? " i um well i no the thick silence returns. it is not boot season when i return home i place my new black shoes next to my black crocs, my black converse and my old black boots. these will join the rotation, my old boots will stay for when the blisters start to heal. we discuss my mothers trip to england over old take out food. "im glad im going back" me too i whisper silently to myself. itll be so nice to have you out of the way for a little bit spits a voice in the back of my mind "really ? are you gonna eat all of that? " it is not boot season.

iloveyou from a distance

[anthonysstupiddailyblog]

Anthony’s Stupid Daily Blog (420): Thu 11th May 2023

I’m happy to report that I’m down to 13 stone 7lbs, a quarter of the way towards my ideal goal of 12 stone which I hope to hit before I go to Edinburgh (though I may challenge myself to hit the target before my birthday on June 30th). I had thought that the diet wasn’t working because every time I’d weigh myself it would say I hadn’t lost any weight even though I’d eaten hardly any food, exercised a decent amount and drank plenty of water. However as usual I overlooked something namely the fact that the tiles on the floor are uneven and we’re giving me incorrect numbers. I out the scale on the flat surface in the living room and was delighted to get the correct result and reinforce my confidence that the rewards would be waiting if I was good and worked hard. As long time readers of this blog will no doubt know I’ve attempted so many diets over the last ten years or so but always end up making excuses to abandoned them just like your mother did to you dear reader. However I think at long last I’ve been disciplined long enough to start seeing the benefits and am now psychologically as well as physically motivated to see it to it’s conclusion. I haven’t seen Nana since before me and Dad went to America so we arranged to go and see her in her new home tonight. I missed the bus by seconds because of course I did…I hate buses, I wish they were  capable of feeling pain so that I could stab them. Instead I rode my motorbike over and arranged to meet Dad in the car park opposite Nana’s home. I arrived early and popped into a nearby supermarket to get some food and sat for a few minutes in my bike eating sushi. This gave me an idea for a Jackass stunt: Extreme Sushi. Basically all the Jackass crew squeeze together and then a bunch of Hell’s Angela on Harley Davidsons start riding around them in a circle and all of them have sushi platters in the back of their bikes and the jackasses have to risk life and limb in order to get some…and if that’s not funny enough we can just get them to do it naked. Dad told me that the last few times he’s been there Nana has been mostly unresponsive and just stares at the ceiling. To mine and Dad’s surprise as soon as I went in and sat down next to Nana’s bed she said “Alright son?”. Even though I was glad she recognized me she did seem to just zone in and out the whole time we were there and occasionally just threw out  some random words and sentences. It’s really heartbreaking to see how suddenly the dementia has overtaken Jenny. When I went to see her just before Christmas she was still capable of holding a conversation even if she got a bit confused at times. I’m just five short months she’s decayed into a constant state of confusion and talks mainly in gibberish. It’s hard to see Nana in this condition. When I took her to Graceland 10 years ago I’d hoped that it would be the start of a series of crazy adventures that I’d take her on to help her live her best life but sadly it hasn’t panned out that way. I can only hope that she is as comfortable as possible and that whatever time she has left with us is free of pain and trauma. When I got home I booked my trip to see Iggy Pop and mine and Dad’s accommodation for when we go to see Devo. I still need to book our train and since it’s his Father’s Day present I might splash out and book us some first class tickets. My sister paid for his tickets to the LA Lakers game for Father’s Day so I’ve told him that I’ll sort out the tickets, accommodation and travel for this gig. Plus both of us are big Devo fans and for a while it looked like this show would never happen so it feels like it will be a unique treat for him.

[genuinenoprize]

covid is not going anywhere ma'am, nobody is going to put their lives on hold for the rest of their lives. i spent three entire years not doing anything, not going anywhere besides work and home, and i wanted to die the whole time. we are way way past the point of being able to eradicate this because so many people don't care. working a job with a lot of people younger than me made me realize that these kids just do not care if they kill someone or not. I am the ONLY person who works there who still wears a mask everyday and uses gloves to make the food. it makes me sick to my stomach, but I can't just never do anything I want to do ever again because of these people. I do frequent covid testing and if I ever contract covid at a concert, I will just immediately quarantine myself and no one else will get sick. but I'm not gonna be miserable for the rest of my life waiting for assholes to care about other people, it's not ever going to happen. and I am immunocompromised btw. sorry if this came off as rude, wasn't my intention. I just think it's an important conversation to have. the people going to two concerts a year are not your enemy, it's the people that go out every single night partying without being vaccinated, without covid testing beforehand, the people not wearing masks, it's the people that don't care. that's your enemy, not the overworked poor people just trying to find some joy in life before their disabilities get so bad they won't be able to anymore. I hope you have a great day, and please be safe out there we need to keep people like you around. sidenote: you're really pretty ❤

Thank you, I was mostly venting on that post because concerts and especially conventions seem like parties to me since I constantly hear stories of otherwise responsible people going to one, catching it, and saying "I'm not sure where I got it". (this post gets personal and heavy below, feel free to skip)

For my part, I spent over 20 years living in my room under my parents in functional quarantine, and then moved out when an Actual quarantine started. Let me tell you it is not easier when it's your entire life. Like the suicidal ideation of growing up has been replaced with constant threats from people who couldn't be damned to wash their hands occasionally or read the news once every couple of years.

It feels like those truly reckless, selfless, arrogant assholes who pretend like covid "is over" or never happened as an excuse to ignore any responsibility or safety have taken part of my future from me. So, I'm touchy about this.

Though in retrospect the most frustrating part for me was hearing people talk during the very beginning, when no one knew how long things would last. Parents saying "Oh my gosh am I going to have to spend a whole 3 months with my child!? Shoot me!". People bemoaning how they couldn't possibly go a whole 6 months without sex. "How do you even spend that much time when you're at home?" "But what about my Disneyland annual pass?". From the word go it felt like people were screaming that they couldn't possibly handle the authoritarian punishment of,,, one of Skye's summer vacations.

It was hard not to feel bitter, not at the opportunities I've lost because I never really felt like I had them. It was hard not to feel bitter at others for having unrecognizably different lives and seemingly scoffing at the idea that they might have to live like I did, even for a little while. Maybe the most frustrating part of hearing those comments was admitting to myself that, by their standard, my life had been a waste up until that point. That my "normal childhood" really was just one long traumatic incident.

At the time I felt smugly superior because all these people were announcing they couldn't handle my hardships but now? I'm mostly burnt out. I occasionally find that fire when someone is being truly reckless in public but, most of the time I'm just exhausted. Probably from long covid, because I was stupid enough to go christmas shopping for my wife.

I am trying to do better, both to myself and others. But it's hard knowing that some people would watch us die just to avoid an inconvenience. Not to mention, since I'm trans, I'm sure some of them would cheer.

Trying to go on after facing that has been a process for me.

All this to say, I appreciate your message, and I hope you have a great day too.

[dzpenumbra]

12/10/22

I'm still eating food, I've been grazing for like 2-3 hours now. I guess. I have such little perception of time, I swear. Hard to gauge because cooking took a long time. I made buffalo chicken crunchwraps, and good lord was it worth the effort!

Today was a much better day. Super productive, high energy. I got the meds for my cat sorted, we have them now, she gets them with her food at 11PM tomorrow. I am putting a notification in my phone now. I did it! I did the normal adult thing! Yay.

I decided to get groceries while I was out. I had to piss real bad the whole time, so it was pretty stressful, but I got it done. $200 for 3 bags of groceries. Like... what the fuck. Like... I'm not even buying meat anymore and this shit is just ridiculously expensive. Please tell me I'm not the only one noticing this. In my "I am barely functioning mid-20's" I was living off of like... frozen meals, energy drinks and gatorade and shit, and I could get like 3-4 bags full of that for like... less than $150. The shit I'm getting now is way cheaper, cooking it all myself, and it's more expensive. Dark times, man.

Anyway, I got home, threw some laundry in - it's super easy and the laundry is like... right below my place, so really conveniently located too. I had like an almost 3 hour conversation with my mom. A really good one. I legit had no idea how long the conversation went on for, I was planning a short one just to check in. We talked Christmas gifts, catching her up on the vet drama, and... my impostor syndrome. My struggle with accepting that I have ADHD. Which, coincidentally, happened to come at the same exact time as my struggle to accept that it's possible for me to be a successful professional artist. And that I even have artistic talent. What a fucking coincidence, huh? Probably just random chance, I'd bet. XD

She helped reassure me, and we talked through the implications, pros and cons of all outcomes. It really helped, I mean that. Just having another perspective on it, and one that has logged a ton of hours around my brain is just... invaluable, honestly. I'm sure any artist reading this could relate, when you work on a super detailed piece for like 30+ hours and even after stepping away and coming back... you still see every little mistake and it doesn't... awe you. Not the way someone else's piece would. But when you see the genuine reaction of someone seeing it for the first time and their jaw hits the floor... Yeah, dude. That can help pull those jaded blinders down a bit. Now take that experience and apply it to... your personality, the way you think, the way you experience life. That's a really tough one to like... get perspective on, especially when you've dedicated a big chunk of your life to trying to "play the game" and fit in. To not draw attention. To be "normal". To function by standards expected of you.

There are a few reasons I've been pushing back against this ADHD thing.

1) I have been misdiagnosed before - with epilepsy. I took it very seriously. I went through tons of med trials. I joined the Epilepsy Foundation. I wore a medical alert necklace every day. I did a 48 hour EEG with an electrode cap that I wore the whole time. Like, I remember vividly standing on my porch smoking cigarettes with gauze wrapped around my head, must've freaked out the neighbors. It was very shameful, very embarrassing, humiliating. And I still feel, even though it was completely naïve and not even my fault, like my actions were like... offensive to people who actually have epilepsy. Even in my ignorance. Yeah, I'm hard on myself, but like 5 years later I still feel that way. And I don't want to do that again.

2) I don't want to feel like I'm looking for an excuse to get me out of responsibilities in life. I have been treated this way constantly. Like I'm lazy or "not motivated" or slow, or dumb, or something. Mostly lazy though. Like "what the fuck, clean your dishes", "just clean your house, you'll feel much better". "Get a job." "Successful people make their bed in the morning." Shit like that. I'm adopting the suspicion of bitter people who hate their lives, people I haven't spoken to in years, and weaponizing that suspicion against myself as a way of talking myself out of a diagnosis I have confirmed at least 3 times. At different stages of my life, too. For fuck's sake, I even got a brain scan that confirmed this. But nope, enough people drilled this into my head at extremely vulnerable times... so... I must be actually lazy. And I must be so desperate to stay lazy and to cheat at life that I'm going to dig up a 20 year old diagnosis and point at it and go "look, look, this means it's okay for dishes to be difficult for me". Again, this overlaps with the impostor thing, because I am saying that. I am saying that dishes are significantly harder for me than neurotypical people, especially consistently doing dishes and staying ahead of them. The only catch here is whether the reason is because of ADHD, and for some reason... I feel like I need a more concrete or more recent diagnosis to really claim that.

I'm sure there are more reasons, but I feel like I'm just ranting and bitching and I'm actually getting bored of hearing myself complain about this. XD

I have been waiting all day to fire up a game of Rimworld, since like 2 days ago, actually. Because I've had so much going on that I haven't had any time to like... chill and unwind until after midnight. Guess what? It's after midnight. -_- Do I unwind with a game for a bit? (which will likely turn into 4AM really quick) Or do I start getting ready for bed?

Gonna say fuck it and roll the dice tonight, see what chance has in store for me.

[girlrunner77]

Sundays With Sarah

At some point in my life, my mother deemed me evil.  Maybe the hatred she had for my dad transferred to me when it became progressively obviously that I was alot like my father.  When you’re young, you lack the self awareness to make realizations such as that. I most certainly did and it lead me to making painful and ridiculous sacrifices to please her.  After turning 30, then 40, memories of my mother include things like making conversion with a waitress at Waffle House on Christmas Eve because my mother found some lame excuse to lock me out of the house.  Being an adult, my gratitude for friendly waitresses is boundless. For reasons I never had any control over, my mom was like the kid who liked to pour salt on slugs and watch them suffer.  I was a slug for a long time until I founds ways to wiggle away, avoid cruelty. 

Sarah, our WW3,  surely was a different type of victim of my mother.  It took me years to put it all together for myself but I’ll never know what’s in my sister’s head. As we’ve gotten older, she’s grown to trust me enough to share her paranoid ideas and feelings. The way Sarah puts completely unrelated events together, her obsession with having at least 6 rolls of toilet paper every Sunday visit, and her fixation with how to describe her levels of wooziness is a rainforest of exploration, there are so many layers to her mental illness. There’s so many levels to her thinking and ideas yet; at the same time, she barely notices the stove flame is lit or that she completely put all of our dirty dishes away without noticing thick stains of spagetti red sauce or crusty bits of food on the forks from Sunday lunch.  

Every Sunday, the overkill of thanks and appreciation begins as she puts her laundry basket in the back seat of my car. She shuts the door and makes sure to remind me not to put the car in drive until she’s in the car. Sarah, now 43 and a good 150 pound heavier than the soccer playing sister I grew up with, reminds me of the toilet paper and the Sprite Zero she so looks forward to having every week. 

“Yep, that’s your toilet paper and Sprite in the back”  I’ve stopped telling her that I wouldn’t drive off without her and I’ve come to understand why she needs such reassurance. I reckon it has more to do with our experience with our mother and less to do with her diminished brain chemistry.    

Sundays include me preparing a fruit and cheese tray and cooking a meal while Sarah puts her laundry in and swiffers our floors.  Swiffering the floor can’t be done incorrectly.  My parents, both the hardest working people you ever want to meet, had ingrained in us very early on that nothing is free and working was a means of independence.  Working means you’re able to contribute and if you’re a contributer, you’re still at the table playing your hand in life.  Sarah sometimes questions why her life doesn’t have the quality we all believed it would have when we were kids.  I do everything I can to stress to her how she has been our family glue.  Sarah’s illness has made us all a bit more compassionate, loving, and selfless because of our love for her.  

When she first moved to Georgia, her Sunday visits were with my mother who had temporarily moved with her, living in a house near the group home. Mom’s house was dark, reeked of cigarette smoke, and always had the TV blaring hysterical political news stories on some sort of loop.  Mom’s refridgerator was so packed with all types of cheese and meat, rare expensive food items, and random homemade meals in oozing containers, she had to tape the door shut; nevermind throwing anything away or doing without the extra things that spoiled. I didn’t visit mom every weekend then; Sarah really had no choice. When I did make the 45 minute drive, Sarah was always sleeping; despite the deafening TV.

Since mom has moved on, she comes to our house on Sundays. My husband and I fill it with smells of a meat marinating in a well loved pot of spices.  The light and vibrant colors from outside fill the window pains with a kalaidescope of colors from our gardens. The hiss of the stove flame and sounds of gurgling liquids are the loudest noise in our house. I make Sarah a cup of French Roast with the perfect amount of cream, sugar, and cinnimon. 

“Wow...I am so fortunate” Sarah says sipping her coffee, excited about lunch. “This is a great cup of coffee, Aimee....it’s so fancy”

“yep, that’s me...fancy and bojie” and I get a laugh out of her because I’m typically covered in yard clippings or my hair is matted under a hat.

Sarah gabs on while I nod and occassionally, interjecting my thoughts in her ramblings. Usually the topic is about what medication she is on and lately, what her stomach has been doing all week.  The detail she can go into is truly astounding sometimes.   

Like the Coriolis Effect on Earth’s winds, massive cocktails of heavy medications create a swirling pattern of side effects. It makes me sad but after about 20 years of managing Schyzoid Affective Disorder, we accept the side affects as the lesser of two evils.  In her youth, she fought against taking her medicine because of these side effects. We, including Sarah, have more fear of the next psychotic break. We all know better now. 

If I had a dollar for every “thank you” I get from Sarah every Sunday, I’d have a steady flow of cash.  It’s hard for us to undo the things we went through as kids.  We both share the feeling of not showing enough gratitude; we grew up with the sense that we were pawns in the way of someone else’s happiness.  

“Thanks for putting up with me, Aimee”

“Shoot, thanks for putting up with me, Sarah....you think you can tolerate me next Sunday?”

“hmm...more toilet paper, Sprite Zero, and some shrimp and grits?....sure, Aimee”

I think Sarah knows how grateful I am for every Sunday with her. 

A very wise woman once told me that when you’re heart is broken, it takes time to heal but there are also things you can do help that healing process. She said that when you’re really feeling low, make a plan to do something kind for someone else. It doesn’t have to be a grand gesture or cost you money. You just need to invest with your heart...you don’t even need to let anyone know you’re doing something for them. Just knowing you made someone feel good from a random kind act does something to change the energy you feel from a broken heart. It’s the best advice I’ve ever gotten and when I feel sad about anything, I know doing the little things for my sister heals me. I see the gratitude in her face and in her words every Sunday with Sarah....and I’m wiggling away smiling