#I knew I wouldn’t survive the euro leg

[sirjacobthomaskiszka]

I FUCKING LOVE BEING TWIN LANE

[val-made-a-mistake]

❝RUNAWAY.❞

(not my gif)

summary/request:

warnings: fluff, guns, mentions of starvation, i think that’s it

word count: 2.4k

a/n: hello to this lovely anon! i adored writing this fic, but at the same time i feel like i haven’t written enough— i was verging on the idea of smut for this one, but ultimately decided i have no idea how to write smut for karli, so i hope the ending doesn’t seem too abrupt lol. enjoy!

//////

You blurred the lines.

You knew that from the start, you’d never been hired to do anything, you were just one of Nagel’s partners having hitched a ride to Latvia from Madripoor, much to everyone’s discontentment. Not totally evil and not totally good, but you’d proved yourself useful, and you had to keep proving yourself useful if you wanted to survive this journey.

The lines were becoming increasingly invisible the longer you sat in this stifling car, on a road somewhere between Riga and Kaunas. Bucky wouldn’t even turn on the radio, so you rode in silence, Sam in shotgun, Bucky driving, you behind him in the back with Walker on your other side, still breathing heavily from the afternoon’s events.

You couldn’t stand him. You had to sit in a car with a murderer and pretend like everything was okay. Someone had managed to fit an elephant into this already cramped Mazda.

“Anyone hungry?” Bucky bit out stiffly, employing his turn signal. You hadn’t eaten in hours, and according to the digital clock on the dashboard, it was just turning over into midnight.

“I’m good,” both you and Walker muttered, but Sam said something about needing to pee, so Bucky curved into the gas station and let him out.

There was silence for a moment— a silence you hated.

“Fuck it,” you mumbled. “Lemme out. Gonna get some snacks, that okay?”

Bucky unlocked the door and you climbed out like a little kid, gulping in fresh air that felt like an antidote to the poison you breathed in whenever you were in Walker’s vicinity.

And in that moment, a horrible idea overtook you.

Leave.

As you set off towards the store, you edged your phone out of your pocket, just in case. Fifty percent battery, not exactly desirable, but doable. You could buy a charger as soon as you stepped into the store.

You’d lived in Madripoor for half a year, you knew how this shit went. Use Google Maps, turn on Airplane Mode whenever you weren’t using your phone, pull your hood up, stick to dark but unsuspicious areas, bargain and compromise always, hope to God you didn’t starve. If you wanted to, you could do this.

The candy aisle was tantalizing, so you took three of your favourite chocolate bars as well as the charger you wanted and avoided the clerk’s eye as he rang you up. You had a few crumpled euros left over from your time in Madripoor, but it wouldn’t last you more than a week, you’d have to get out of Lithuania as soon as possible in order to make this work.

And then what?

The Flag Smashers were trending on Twitter after John Walker had beheaded one of them, and as you left Riga, protests were already starting to flare up. It wouldn’t be too hard to find a protest near you, you supposed.

Leave, the same horrible voice repeated.

You stalled in the store, wondering if Sam had gotten out of the bathroom yet, and checked your phone again. After a long internal debate, you wiped Bucky, Sam, and Walker from your contacts app— their photos, their phone numbers, everything.

You took a deep breath, still avoiding the clerk’s eye. Most of Lithuania’s terrain was flat and hardly mountainous; good for running on but not really useful if you needed to hide.

Now having a hard time looking natural, you opened Google Maps on your phone and pulled your hood up over your head. The hood of the Mazda was facing the road, not the store, Bucky wouldn’t see you if you decided to run in the opposite direction.

Then, deciding on no dramatic motion, you pushed the door open with your elbow and booked it.

//////

You ran until your legs and heart were screaming in pain. One hour had blurred into two, the gas station had faded into darkness, and all you could see was the dark, slightly squelchy grass, the wide paved road, and your phone on minimum brightness, leading the way towards the nearest hotel. You could only afford to stay one night, then you’d have to buy a bus ticket to Riga, print it at the front desk, and launch what you were calling phase two of your paper-thin plan.

Meaning: you’d avoid Bucky and Sam and Walker as much as you could and do everything in your power to find Karli Morgenthau.

She seemed like the most reasonable option, anyway. The Flag Smasher motives weren’t as crazy as Walker made them out to be, and if Karli truly believed in the one world one people thing, she’d be eager to accept you, you had plenty of ammunition and intelligence experience because of Madripoor. If you were useful to Bucky and Sam, you were useful to her. Wouldn’t be too hard to find her, right?

She was hardly a forgettable face.

//////

As expected, Riga was completely bursting with protests the minute you stepped foot off the bus. You loved to see it, really.

“Abolish Captain America!”

“Resign! Resign!”

“Don’t make Steve Rogers come down from the moon!” someone screamed as you passed.

Even if the protests were just confirmation of your gut feeling that Walker had never been good in the first place, you knew you still had bigger fish to fry. After you’d been tipped off by someone at the hotel, you’d downloaded the Flag Smasher app and were planning to use it to seek out Karli tonight. According to the red dots pulsating on your screen, there were still plenty of Flag Smasher supporters revolving around Riga.

Maybe you’d invest in a knife before you met up with them, though.

//////

“Hello?” you called out, waving a dollar store flashlight in front of the path ahead. “Is anyone out there? Hello?”

You’d gotten a notification from the app that all Flag Smashers were to meet along this creek tonight and had stupidly gone along, more concerned about squandering an opportunity than taking proper precautions to defend yourself. You kind of regretted it now that you were wandering along a deserted road in the dead of night with no idea where you were supposed to be heading, though.

There was a rustle, and you whipped around.

Nothing.

But you were experienced, you knew all the noises no one would ever forget in a dreadful silence such as this, and hearing the safety of a gun click off was just about the worst.

“Who are you?”

You put your hands up automatically. “Y/N Y/L/N, I’m looking for Karli Morgenthau?”

You heard that same someone take a step forward.

“I am Karli Morgenthau. You’re Nagel’s bitch, aren’t you?”

“Nagel’s dead. Good riddance, I never liked working for the bastard anyway,” you shot back coolly. “I’m not looking to hurt you, I actually wanna join up with you guys. Can you put down the gun?”

Karli ignored you. “I thought you were runnin’ with Walker and his wingmen.”

She took a heated step forward. “It’s either that or you’ve been sent by the Power Broker to kill me.”

You kept your flashlight aimed at her feet. “Walker and his guys were my golden ticket out of Madripoor, so I took it, okay? Nothing deeper than that, soon as I found a way out, I left ‘em. And I hate the Power Broker even more than you do, there’s not a way in hell I’d become one of his lackeys.”

You stared at her silhouette. “Walker and his buddies are nothing without me, so if anything, it’s kind of invaluable for you that I wanna join up with you guys.”

“We’ve already taken the serum, and Zemo smashed the rest of our stocks,” she snarled. “There’s nothing about the serum we don’t know, and the only person alive that could make it is dead, like you said.”

You pressed your lips together. “But his assistant isn’t.”

You stared at each other for a very long time. Your heartbeat thrummed louder than ever, and for a second you thought she was going to shoot.

“Dovich!” she called, finally, and a Flag Smasher trampled out of the darkness on command.

“Get her a coat. And a plate,” she said. Hoping you were out of the woods, you raised the flashlight to her face— she was, of course, beautiful as ever.

She didn’t flinch either. “Welcome to the Flag Smashers, Y/L/N.”

//////

God, you hoped Karli wasn’t straight.

She loved keeping you around, keeping you close, sharing private information with you because after the first weekend of running with the Flag Smashers, she realized you were actually valuable. There’d be long hours of you sitting in a safehouse or a tent going over chemical formulas for the serum, and then Karli would just…stare. At you. For a moment longer than was natural. Her eyes were brown, so brown they were almost black, and they were so wide and beautiful that once you started looking, you couldn’t tear yourself away.

And then she’d deflect with a remark about the ongoing problem of you having no idea where to get these lab-grown ingredients, unless it were possible for you to go back to Madripoor and scout out the charred remains of Nagel’s lab, which would be difficult enough considering the Power Broker was almost definitely waiting for you there with a shotgun. Two bullets for the both of you, how romantic. Three days after you’d arrived in Ukraine, you’d started getting haunting text messages from an untraceable number— 000-000-000– saying that he “knew what you did” and he was “coming to kill you”.

You kept your eyes on your objectives. If the Power Broker wanted you, he was going to have to try harder than that.

“How much time do you think we have?” Karli asked you quietly one night, making you look up.

“What?” you replied.

“How much time do we have?” she repeated.

“What do you mean?”

Karli made a face. “I mean, even though I know what we’re doing will outlive us all, I’m just thinking about how long it will take before the Power Broker finds us. I’d rather it be later rather than sooner.”

You chewed on your lip. “He’s never gonna find us though. We’re deep underground, remember?”

This was true. Not only did you have the Power Broker to deal with, word on the street was Walker was looking to kill you both too, so you’d been driven into hiding so secret you were starting to think about investing in a photostatic veil.

“I know, but we always have to think about the what ifs when considering a new plan, y’know?”

The plan right now was to flee Odessa for Constanța, Romania as soon as you could. You’d have to get up at dawn in order to be on time for the new round of vaccine shipments coming from one of Karli’s suppliers. Until then, this grimy safehouse you were standing in right now was your home.

“I disagree,” you said softly. “The what ifs just hold you down, and you don’t need that when you’re on the run.”

Karli narrowed her eyes. “So we shouldn’t be cautious?”

“We shouldn’t overload ourselves with the what ifs,” you corrected. “You’ll drive yourself insane doing that. Y’know, for the first couple of weeks I was in Madripoor, I panicked so hard I gave myself an ulcer? I ended up getting surgery.”

You pulled your shirt up to reveal the scar, and Karli’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Wow.”

You weren’t sure if she knew she was doing the staring thing again.

“I don’t know if you know this, but in the Flag Smashers, we don’t really talk about our pasts,” she said.

Your eyes widened. “Did - did I do something wrong?”

Karli looked panicked now. “No, I mean, it’s not illegal, just a lot of us don’t really-”

“I - um-“

You both struggled for words for a moment, and when neither of you said anything, silence fell. The quiet was so thick it seemed syrupy, dripping with a feeling you swore you knew, just couldn’t recognize.

“There’s still so many things about the Flag Smashers I don’t know,” you said hollowly.

She just looked at you. “You don’t need to know them. We’re not a high school clique.”

You gestured around the safehouse, with its flickering lights, waterlogged ceilings, creaky furniture and surfaces you wouldn’t want to examine with a blacklight. “Well, seeing as we can barely trust anyone in our current predicament, we kinda are. Just not high school. Fighting for something bigger than ourselves.”

“One world, one people,” Karli murmured.

“Y’know by that logic, the Flag Smashers are the world?” you laughed.

Silence again.

It happened so fast it felt like a brush of butterfly wings: one minute she was standing opposite you, looking at the ground, the next she’d taken your face in her hands and kissed you.

It was only for the quickest of moments, you froze like a deer in headlights as she pulled away.

“Um, what?” you said, and to your horror, your voice was an octave higher than usual.

Karli looked horrified. “What?”

You stared at each other for a minute.

“You kissed me,” you said slowly. “I - I wasn’t-“

Her eyes were wide as saucers. “I - um-“

An unfamiliar wave of braveness washed over you, and before your brain could give the okay, you’d pulled her hand into your lap and kissed her back.

Karli automatically fell into it, and you got this horribly beautiful sense of déjà vu as the kiss deepened all on its own— like this was meant to happen, somehow. The hand you pulled into your lap was gripping your waist now, and your own hands were soft on the base of her neck, pulling her closer.

You broke away with a loud pop and glanced at the door. “Are we-”

“Shh,” Karli whispered, and her lips crashed against yours again, making any complaint you had die in your throat.

You let her push you onto the counter.

[dismuch47]

ADVANCED SETTINGS (Part 1)

And the winner of the Scarlet Vision Drabbles Voting is... Advanced Settings! With Custom Skin as a close second. Luckily this one is turning out waaay longer than I thought it would be, so I had to break it into two parts. Second part will come out later this week. 

It’s been awhile since I’ve fanfic dabbled, so this has felt really nice. I feel I will be writing more about these soulmates.

Advanced Settings: Wanda and Vision find there is more to iron out in making their relationship “work”. Rated Mature.

Wanda made her way down the narrow stairs, holding her two bags close to her person. The creaky boards protested against her dainty weight and brown chips of aged paint flaked away with each step of her boots. She strode to the stained plaid couch in the musty living area and plopped down her burdens. A roach scurried out from between the cushions and zoomed to the sanctuary of a hole in the upholstered armrest.

No… she would not miss this location.

“Has anyone seen my… oh, I see it.” Wanda walked to the defunct treadmill in the corner of the room, plucking her ear-pods from the treadmill’s control panel. The train ride would be long and music was the only way she would survive it. She shoved the corded earphones into her jacket pocket with her phone and smoothed the sides of her hair behind her ears as she ran through her mental checklist again.

“Got your ticket?” Natasha inquired over a near empty dinner plate, supplying the reminder, not out of real concern but rather a sense of familial normalcy. She was a stern but stunning mother hen.

“Ah… yes!” Wanda had to pat herself down and found the ticket in her back pocket. She held it up victoriously before putting it in the smaller of her bags. “I think I have everything…”

“Not everything.” Steve’s rich tenor voice cut in over the hissing and bubbling of the shabby kitchenette that occupied the same small space as the living area. He placed a plate of peppered chicken, plain rice, and steamed broccoli in front of Wanda before draping a dish towel over a toned shoulder. “No one should travel on an empty stomach. Eat up.”

Wanda scrunched her nose up at the the corny paternal grin he gave, but accepted the plate. She took her seat at one of the mismatched chairs that occupied the dingy room, refusing to sit on the couch with food. 

“Moscow… my old stomping grounds.” Nat sighed, before taking another bite of chicken. “Shto-to s chem-to.” Her Russian was comically muffled by food.

“I’ll take pictures.” Wanda promised, scarfing rice. “I’m forcing myself to take in more of scenery this time. But I swear once I’m in a hotel, all I want to do is shower and never leave the bed.”

Wanda winced as soon as she dropped that setup.

“Oooooh? Do tell…” Wanda had actually forgotten that Sam was in the room as well, as small as it was. He had been unusually quiet, nursing some leg soreness from a tech-recalibration injury. Nothing seriously hurt, save for pride. The plastic baggies of ice duct-taped to his thighs sloshed and clacked as he shifted in the only run-down chair with padding. “And when exactly are we gonna meet this mystery boyfriend of yours? Who pays your way to exotic locations and expensive hotels, hmmm?”

Wanda gave a tight smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes… and forked more food into her mouth to occupy it.

Sam chuckled at the intentional silence. “I see how it is.”

“A girl’s got to have her secrets.” Nat supplied, taking her plate to the sink to rinse. “Besides, I don’t recall you being very open about your copious tawdry affairs back at Avenger Headquarters.” Wanda smiled down at her food, thankful for the deflection of topic.

“Copious, yes. Tawdry… never.” Sam grinned back, putting his joined hands up behind his head in bemusement, leaning back in his chair. “I’m an open book about the ladies, Steve can tell yah.”

Steve shook his head, but acknowledged it was true with a dimpled grin. A far cry from his blank expression that used to overshadow his stoic face at any mention of Avengers history. It had been 8 brutal months since the fall-out with Tony Stark and the US government.

“And as I seem to recall, Romanoff, you were caught more than once coming back to the compound. Late. Shoeless….” Sam continued.

“Late night scrapbooking.” The ex-assassin responded dryly. “Scout’s honor.”

“And then we have Mr. Virtue over there. Clamped tighter than a nun’s thighs…” Sam continued.

Steve gave an innocent shrug. “Gentlemen don’t kiss and tell.” Nat was looking down, but gave a small grin, arms folded over her chest. Wanda briefly wondered if the two had ever connected on a level other than as a commander and his right-hand.

“Tony, well… Tony had Pepper.” The topic was exhausted, but he kept talking. Steve turned away, back to the grimy stove to tidy-up. “Brody,  shit, I don’t know how Brody had time for anything other than cleaning up after Stark, but he consistently wowed even me with all his ‘war stories’ in the battle of love.”

“And Clint was the honorable family-man.” Wanda said half-heartedly. She turned her wrist up to check the time on her watch.

“Yeah. Good man. Good man.” Sam nodded, respect for the settled existence that Hawkeye had found and chose over a life on the run. “And then there was Vision...”

Wanda’s grip on her fork slightly tightened. 

“Yeah, I couldn’t figure that guy out. He invited to his room, like, twice to talk about a painting he purchased. Twice. One of the three things in his room. A little odd…”

Wanda’s jaw tightened. The painting was a New York Street Artist’s rendition of the Tree of Life. The artist was also blind. He created a picture from memory, using odd colors to convey a synthetic translation to the image to stand out against what would be considered normal and correct. It created something beautiful and breathtaking in the process. It resinated with Vision deeply. The proceeds went to a medical facility that specialized in therapeutics for children with disabilities. Wanda had been there with the Synthezoid when he had become enamored with it at first sight. Had come to his room numerous times afterwards to talk about it, or just sit with him, staring at it’s mastery as he read aloud.

“I don’t think he ever…you know?” Sam finally said. It cut through Wanda’s thoughts. “I mean, how could he? I don’t think he even had the… machinery… for it. Poor guy.”

“Sam…” Steve didn’t have to look at Wanda to feel her bristling. He didn’t always understand it, but he knew that she had a close friendship with the synthezoid.

“Oh don’t tell me you never wondered about it.” Sam huffed.

“No, Sam. I don’t wonder about a teammate’s junk.” Steve turned around, impatient that his friend wasn’t picking up on his annoyance. He took a sip from a mug of black coffee.

“Or lack, there of.” Sam countered, oblivious.

“I have to go.” Wanda stated, louder than needed. She went to the sink with her plate.

“To be fair, Vision has molecular control of his physical structure and density.” Natasha continued, to Steve’s surprise. “So, in theory, he could get the job done. But it would be very one-sided.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “How so?” 

“I imagine it would be like using an over-elaborate vibrator. All sensation for the partner… nothing for him.” Nat shrugged. “A safe and controlled simulation, where there is nothing asked of you.”

Sam blinked at the thought-out response. “Damn, Romanoff…”

Dishes clanked loudly, even angrily, at sink. Wanda didn’t meet Steve’s concerned look. “Sorry I don’t have time to clean these.” She strode to her bags on the couch and muttered a farewell before storming out of the apartment. The door slammed shut with the flick of Wanda’s wrist and a flash of bright scarlet energy. 

Sam’s brown eyes drifted from the door where the youngest teammate had just left. He glanced at Steve and Nat. “Did I say something?”

“We all did.” Steve put his mug down on the counter, brows knit in concern. “Vision is her friend. She misses him.” He gazed at the hot brown liquid in his mug thoughtfully, thinking of those who he missed. “We shouldn’t have talked about her friend that way.”

“Oh…” Sam blinked, and then frowned at himself. “I didn’t  think… Should I go and-?“

“Just stop talking for a sec and take your pills.” Nat interrupted, striding over to him to offer two painkillers in one hand and a glass of water in the other. “I’ll go talk to her. Smooth things over before she leaves.” Sam nodded sheepishly and accepted her offerings.

Steve made a noise of protest, to perhaps leave Wanda be, but Nat gave him an understanding “Time for Girl Talk” wink before stalking after her companion’s trail out the door.

It didn’t take her long to catch up with Wanda, who walking down the stretch of road to the nearest bus pick-up to take her to the station.

“Hey.” Nat called, not even out of breath after the jog. “You did forget something,” she held up a flash drive. “…with the next meet-up location, job details, instruction on-“

“How could you say all that about him?” Wanda shot back.

Nat considered her young teammate… her friend… for a moment. “Well, it’s the kind of thing I would say if I didn’t think that you had an intimate relationship with Vision going on, currently.”

Wanda’s lips thinned into a firm line. She crossed her arms and looked down at her feet.

“It’s the kind of thing that throws the boys off the trail about what I saw in the Netherlands when I tailed you.” Nat shook her blonde-dyed head. “I hate lying to teammates. Especially Steve. But out of respect for you and female bonding, I’ve kept my word. Keep yours and don’t let your feelings ruin your focus.”

“If you think my focus is a problem, why even let me go?” Wanda asked.

“I wouldn’t.” Nat retorted. “But Rogers seems to think you deserve some semblance of a young-adulthood. He thinks your mysterious Euro-boyfriend phase is healthy for you. And that’s of utmost importance, considering how closely your control is tethered to your emotions.”

Blunt, as always, but Wanda appreciated the honesty. And the freedom. She reached out for the flash drive after a moment. “I’ll keep my head down. Check in when I need to.”

Nat nodded approvingly, then turned to leave.

“Natasha,” Wanda called, halting her friend. “Did…did you mean what you said, though?” She searched Nat’s guarded blue eyes for truth. “That…he can’t feel what I...”

The silent response was deafening.

“That I’m  just… using him?” Wanda finally ventured.

“I won’t pretend to understand… any of that.” Natasha shrugged. “But what does it really matter what I think?”

It wasn’t reassurance. And the cold sentiments expressed in the apartment would loop themselves in Wanda’s head, no matter how loud she turned up her music on the bus. And then later on the long train ride.

As farmland and rolling hillsides blurred past, Wanda kept her forehead pressed against the cool glass of her window. She felt like Vision, her mind endlessly running and playing out memories and scenarios whether she wanted it or not. Analyzing and computing to try and find a solution to ease the pit in her stomach. 

She knew that Vision could feel. She had stumbled upon that realization during one of their first few kisses, 5 months ago. What linked her given abilities to it’s source in Vision’s forehead, though unexplainable, proved that what she felt for him…label-less yet profound…he definitively felt for her. And her absence from him, the lack of that engulfing feeling, caused him a wounding loneliness. It’s what had made Wanda want to give herself fully to him.

But with the introduction of intimate relations 1 month later…

Vision had learned everything there was to know about her body and what delighted it. What actions and sentiments yielded the most sincerest, and surfeited, responses. Always so lost in her desires and satisfaction, she always believed it when he said that his greatest pleasure was bringing about hers. But if she really thought about it…. really thought about it…

Wanda pulled her knees into her chest, boot heels digging into her seat. 

He didn’t moan. He didn’t sigh. He didn’t heave. He didn’t lose himself like she could completely in him. His eyes never left her face even when she had to close hers in convulsive ecstasy. His broad and handsome smile was always waiting for her when she would come back to reality. Waiting and in need of no reprieve.

She hated this feeling. This feeling that she was doing something wrong. That she was taking and taking without giving when she would literally set the world on fire if it meant Vision’s well-being.

Wanda was so consumed that she didn’t look up to take in the environment of Moscow as the taxi pulled in to take her to the hotel. She almost dreaded it. She was tugging at her sleeves to cover more of her hands. Did Vision have resentment about this? That she could flaunt how human she could be when he couldn’t? She hadn’t thought about that when she took the plunge to have him. She had followed instincts and emotion… like always. Wanda rubbed her forehead, upset with herself.

She checked in as usual, requesting a key to a room under “Victor Shade”, always left for her at the front per Mr. Shade’s instructions. The front desk clerk was beaming at Wanda, expressing how nice Victor was and how he talked about his world-traveling girlfriend with so much admiration. Wanda smiled weakly and accepted the extra $100 room credit gift because Victor was just “so sweet to hotel staff”.

Wanda stepped off the elevator and drudged down the hall to their room. She arrived and took her keycard out, ready to use it on the card-scanner, when the door swung wide open. 

Vision was there, beaming down at her stunned face, keycard still held up in her hand. Though of course, at the risk of being seen even for an instant, he was visible in his human mapping. Blonde hair smoothed with a slight, playful waive. Skin fair but peppered with human imperfections like freckles, freshly shaved skin texture. But his cerulean eyes were the same piercing blue true to his actual form.

“The front desk computer confirmed your arrival.” He said, to quell her surprise. “Wanda. Darling.” He said, deeply, and reverently. “Welcome to-“

Wanda let her bags fall to the floor and leaped up into his arms, legs wrapped as high on his torso as she could manage, lips crushing the end of his sentence. Vision grinned handsomely against her needy lips.

“I’ve missed you.” She managed finally, pressing her cheek against his.

“I reciprocate your sentiments.” He combed graceful fingers through her auburn hair. “Considerably, so.

***

Ever the perfect gentlesynthe, Vision carried his barnacle of a girlfriend to the suite’s luxury bathroom. She detached from his waist with a gasp as he showed her the candlelit bathroom, large clawfoot tub frothing with lavender scented bubbles, soft piano renditions of movie love-themes emanated from a portable radio he had relocated from the bed stand. He gave a controlled ray from the mindstone in his forehead to bring the lukewarm temperature of the bath back to a simper again.

“Vision… this is…”

“Exactly what you need after a long day of training and travel.” He placed a hand on either side of her head tenderly and tilted her forehead up to plant a kiss. His human facade shimmered away with the contact. “Are you hungry?”

“No.” Wanda then realized that she didn’t even eat her whole dinner. Hours ago. She reconsidered. “Well…”

“How about Olivier Salad? Or Shuba? Better known as ‘Herring under a Fur Coat’? A Russian delicacy, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

Wanda scrunched her nose up at Vision.

“Cocktail shrimp and cheese sticks it is. “ He grinned at her default preference.

“And wine! You know the kind I like…” She added, unzipping her jacket.

Vision smiled, emitting a chuckle. He left her in privacy to unwind and rejuvenate, while he called down to the front about room service to be delivered in 30 minutes. He then sat down to compose a note on hotel stationary, thanking the staff for the lovely presentation of the room and the warm reception for his Wanda. Satisfied with the flourish of his penmanship, he then accessed streaming guides to find vintage sitcoms that might please Wanda.

Only 10 minutes had passed when he heard his name being called from the bathroom.

The synthezoid was there in an instant, concern conveyed in his tone. “Wanda, I’m here. Are you-“

“I’m fine, Vis.” His human girlfriend peeked over the tub’s edge, visible only from her shoulders and up. Her long hair was wound in a sloppy bun, piled atop her head. “I just… wanted to look at you…”

Vision felt his lips curl into yet another smile. A frequent, unprompted state of expression when Wanda was near. “And…?” He inquired, kneeling to the floor to gain eye-level with her rich hazel gaze. 

Wanda bit her lip, taking his hands in her own, lacing her soapy fingers with his maroon digits. “And… I think you are wearing far too much. For a bubble bath.”

“You would like me to join you?” Vision asked, after a beat of processing the subtextual request. “Would that not defeat the purpose of… relaxing?”

“I’m tired of relaxing alone.” Wanda retorted, leaning her head down against their joined hands. “Come assist me.”

Vision stood, untangling his fingers from hers, and began stripping down. He could easily phase through his clothing, but he found the act of undressing much more interesting and human than being unencumbered by the physical properties of clothing. It also slowed down his naturally speedy rhythm of existence, which he observed pleased Wanda. The human drank in the sight of her nude synthetic boyfriend, mindlessly swirling her index finger around in the warm water she soaked in.

One long vibranium-infused leg stepped into the tub. Wanda maneuvered to the far end to make room, until Vision had sat down, adjusting his sculpted length to the confined space. She floated herself to sit on his lap, her back leaning heavily into his chest, auburn head resting against the dip of his shoulder. She signed deeply and emitted a noise of contentment at the feeling of him against her. Vision brought a hand up to cup her dainty shoulder. The other slipped across her belly, splayed out to absorb the toned smoothness of her.

“This feels nice.” Wanda murmured. Vision smiled into her neck, planting a firm kiss at the base. “Does this feel nice, Vision?”

Something in her tone of her inquiry sounded peculiar. As if there was an answer she was desiring. It puzzled the Synthezoid, who had most of her variations of responses and phrasings committed to his memory. But humans were complex and ever-evolving. Wanda was no exception.

“I am very content  to be a variable in your relaxation.” Vision retorted. He was met with silence. She was unable to see the smile on his face falter. “Unless… you wish for something more stimulating now…” HIs hand skimmed through the water, over slick skin, down her navel, to the her silky region. Seeking her sensitive entrance…

Wanda lightly clenched her thighs together, pulling his hand up out of the water and kissing his knuckles. “I just want to sit like this for a bit, Vis.”

There was a pause before his response. It made Wanda wince. “Of course, darling. Whatever you desire.” He wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “Is this alright?”

“Yes…it feels nice. It always feels nice.” Again, her words said pleasant things, but conveyed a tone ill-at-ease.

“Wanda?” 

She turned to face Vision, straddling his lap. Chest to chest.

“I’m sorry….I…” She sighed deeply. “Natasha said something and… it got to me.” Wanda looked up into Vision’s cerulean eyes. “I don’t… use you… do I? When we are together?”

“Use me?” What an odd statement.  His hand cupped the side of her face. “I have no qualms about being put to ‘use’ by you, Wanda. Ever. If that is what you ask.”

“No. I mean… ugh, how do I say this….”

“You know you can say anything, Wanda. I’m made of vibranium. I won’t be damaged.”

Wanda smiled weakly. He had come so fair in his speech patterns. Had learned personality traits that he obviously preferred. She could feel… him… a soul within, if that was what it was. She took comfort in that. 

“When we come together, intimately-“

“Sexually.” Vision supplied. Unabashed.

Wanda huffed. “Yes…sexually… you give so much. And I’m not complaining. At all. It’s… unreal.” 

Vision smiled tenderly, placing another hand on her other cheek, kissing her lips the way she had showed him awhile ago. He liked the little noises she made when he did so. And would watch her face as their lips departed from one another, her eyes usually heavy with serenity and arousal.

But not tonight.

“What do I give you, Vision?” Her inquiry was direct. She rested a cream-colored hand against the rich maroon and reflective vibranium of his chest.

Vision tilted his head at her. “Your pleasure and well-being is of paramount significance to me.” His eyes blinked excessively as she pulled her face away from his contact. He had said something unsatisfactory. “Is that not enough?”

Wanda’s gaze was now downcast. “I suppose I underestimated how much it would mean to me. To not be able to give you pleasure. To not see you able to take it for yourself, instead of just for my sake.”

The sythezoid’s eyes darted away as he processed. Avoiding her returned hazel glance. He knew it would betray his discomfort. But stoicism was not what he wanted with his Wanda during moments like these. He wanted her to see him… really see him… even in time of uncomfortable vulnerability. 

“This body was not made with human reproduction in mind, but synthesized evolution.” Vision said, finally breaking the silence. “Pleasure, desire… arousal… these are constructs that I loosely understand in definition only, and by observing how they manifest in you…who I care a great deal for. And that was enough for me.”

“Was?”

He finally brought his eyes back to her face. Her expression, contorted in aching sympathy, made his eyes close. The repressed hurt upon his face seemed an honest response, though he knew it would further upset the situation. He sought to remove himself before causing Wanda more distress.

“Vision, no…” She gently protested, but his form  disappeared from the tub and rose outside of it. The vibranium striations across his broad back glittered from the reflection of the flickering candlelight. “Vis…”

He turned towards her, his smile was back, as if it had never left. “Room service will be here soon. I surmise it best I not greet them naked.” He stooped to kiss her on top of her head, then collected his clothes before leaving her presence.

[breeeliss]

[Chlonette Week]: What Is This Feeling?

(written for @chlonetteweek​ )

[Prev: Helpless] [Next: If I Could Tell Her]

Link to Archive of Our Own: [AO3]

Day 2: What Is This Feeling? Prompt: a journey into them slowly discovering that the way they feel about each other is different Summary: Chloé asks Marinette for a rather distracting favor, and Marinette isn't quite sure if she's going to be able to survive it.

Day 2: What Is This Feeling?

“Hey! Dupain-Cheng!”

Marinette rolled her eyes at the sound of Chloé’s voice and shifted back in the hopes that Chloé wouldn’t see her hiding underneath the courtyard stairs. It always seemed like it was physically impossible for Marinette to spend her free periods in peace without this girl finding her and distracting her with something ridiculous. She had portfolios to submit for two of her applied arts classes by the end of the week, and there was no way anyone was going to keep her from at least finishing her linework before the school day ended. But Chloé had never been interested in anyone’s problems except for her own, and it was really rather stupid of Marinette to assume that Chloé would notice her panicking and leave her alone.

“Three steps back, Bourgeois,” Marinette called out. “You are not bothering me right now.”

Chloé stopped mid-stride and scoffed. “Well, excuse me, what crawled up your ass?”

“Final assignments,” Marinette muttered.

“Due when?”

“On Friday.”

“It’s Tuesday. You have time to help me.”

Marinette groaned. “I am not interested in getting into another debate with you. For the last time, you are warm toned, and that  blue eye makeup makes you look gross and washed out.”

Chloé narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you dare rehash that. Besides, those are tall words coming from a girl who can’t even do a smokey eye right.”

“Oh my Gooood! ” Marinette threw her sketchbook off to the side and finally looked up at Chloé who must have just come from outside since she was still wearing her peacoat on one arm. “If I humor you, will you make it quick so you can leave me alone?”

Chloé crossed her arms. “You sew, right?”

“Is that a trick question? Do you know me?”

“I mean, do you have sewing stuff on you right now, you ignoramus.”

“Yeah, why?”

“Perfect.” Chloé leaned down, collected Marinette’s things, and pulled her up from her seat on the ground. “You’re coming with me.”

Marinette tripped to catch up with Chloé as she led them upstairs to where the classrooms were. “Woah woah woah, what the heck, where are we going? You know how hard it is to monopolize that spot under the stairs?”

“No one cares about your stupid real estate claims, Marinette, you already agreed to help me, so shut up.”

“If this ends up taking all period I’m literally going to hire someone to kill you.”

“Good luck with that, sweetie. And if you’re as good as you say, this won’t take any time at all.”

She took them to an empty chemistry lab and locked the door to make sure no one came in after them. Chloé dropped Marinette’s things on top of the teacher’s desk while Marinette asked, “Alright. What’s the emergency?”

Chloé didn’t say a word as she let her jacket drop to the floor and held out her right arm. Marinette’s eyes flew open as she bit down on her bottom lip to keep from bursting out into laughter. “Oh, honey….”

“Don’t you start,” Chloé warned. “This isn’t my fault.”

Marinette placed a hand on Chloé’s shoulder and inspected the sleeve of her blouse that was literally hanging off her shoulder by a single thread. It looked like it had been completely ripped out of its seam, but Marinette was having a lot of trouble understanding how Chloé had managed that seeing as how this looked to be a Gabriel brand blouse that probably cost her over a hundred euros. “Do I even want to know?”

Chloé looked to the ceiling. “I….may have been in the middle of yelling at someone….and got my sleeve caught in the locker….and tried to stomp away….and then I heard a rip.”

Marinette gave her a deadpan stare. “You are such an idiot.”

“This is not the time to be focusing on my failings,” Chloé said. “Can you sew it up or not? You can see my bra through the hole of the shirt now. I can’t go to class like this.”

Marinette sighed and stared at the ruined seam. “I mean, it might be easier to just go home and change.”

“I’m not going to have time. I tried calling my butler but he’s busy handling something important for Daddy. I wouldn’t have come to you if I wasn’t desperate.”

“Oh gee thanks,” Marinette sneered. She turned around and started rummaging through her bag for the travelling sewing kit she always carried. “It won’t look pretty, but I can sew it up really quick so that at least the sleeve is attached. To do it properly, I’d need my sewing machine which is at home.”

Chloé waved off the offer. “Attaching the sleeve is fine. Just need to get through the day. I’ll order three new ones when I get home.”

Marinette pulled a face. “Oooh, I’m Chloé, I’m super rich, I’ll just buy three of everything I break.”

“God, you’re annoying.”

“Keep it up or I’ll sew the sleeve to your collar.”

Marinette pulled out a baby blue thread that was the closest match to Chloe’s blouse she could find and started to thread the needle. “Alright, this might be easier if you take off your shirt. If you’re fine with quick and dirty, I can fix it in about twenty minutes.”

Chloé smirked as she unbuttoned her shirt. “Quick and dirty, huh? Interesting word choice considering I’m about to get half naked.”

“Ha ha ha,” Marinette droned. “Get over yourself.”

Chloé scoffed. “Figures the first girl I get naked for in like six months is one that won’t even appreciate it.”

“Tragic.”

“Truly.”

“Shut up and hand me the shirt, you narcissist.”

Chloé pulled the shirt off, rolled it up into a ball, and threw it right in Marinette’s face while she was tying off the end of the thread.. “There! Happy?”

Marinette ripped it off her head and was about to tell Chloé to cool it with the sarcasm before she permanently ruined her blouse. But whatever she was about to say was immediately blown out of her mind as her eyes zeroed in on Chloé and the fact the fact that she was currently standing in front of her while wearing an incredibly expensive looking bra that was certainly a little too….festive for everyday wear.

Now Marinette wasn’t an ogler. She knew how downright uncomfortable it was to have boys staring at her legs when she wore short skirts and trying to get peeks down the front of her shirt in the middle of class. So she always tried to be conscious of not letting her eyes linger for more than a couple of seconds out of respect for the other person because that’s the kind of treatment she would’ve wanted in return.

Except it was really kind of hard not to stare when Chloé’s bra was way too low cut, way too see through, and way too covered in lace to be appropriate. Chloé was all soft skin and round curves, and Marinette didn’t even have the energy to be annoyed at the fact that Chloé’s pride in her looks was very well founded.

Marinette must have been quiet for a while because Chloé had to snap her fingers in front of Marinette’s face to get her attention. She raised a delicate brow and asked, “You good?”

The only thing Marinette could do was swallow and point out the obvious. “You’re wearing lingerie….”

Chloé huffed. “Yeah, don’t remind me. I forgot to hand my delicates over to the maid when she did laundry yesterday so all I had to wear this morning was the expensive stuff. Ridiculous, right?”

Marinette pulled in her lips and nodded. Ridiculous was not the word Marinette was thinking of, but she didn’t trust herself enough to speak. Instead she pulled Chloé’s blouse inside out and started to realign the hem so she could pin it in place. “Let me, uh….get started on this then.”

Marinette still didn’t like Chloé no matter how much effort Adrien put into whipping the girl into shape and teaching her revolutionary new concepts like manners and courtesy. She was still loud mouthed, still annoying, still spoiled, and still dead set on annoying Marinette using any means necessary. Fine, it was mostly harmless now and in a way Marinette sort of enjoyed the banter if only so she could completely humiliate Chloé and get her to feel a little humble for once — but it didn’t matter because she was still a brat and that wasn’t about to change.

Chloé wasn’t allowed to mess that dynamic up by being attractive. Well, okay, Chloé had always been pretty. Marinette’s opinions about Chloé aside, she wasn’t blind and she certainly wasn’t one to ignore an objective truth. But, as shallow as it sounded, it was really hard to focus on how stupid Chloé’s face looked when she was standing in a get up straight out of one of Marinette’s very confusing yet highly enlightening day dreams.

Wow, she was staring again. This was so not fair.

Focus on sewing. Just focus on sewing.

Luckily, Chloé was more interested in standing off to the side and playing on her phone than paying any attention to what Marinette was doing and for that she was grateful. Oxford cloth was something Marinette had worked with dozens of times, and she managed to fix the shirt with a simple running stitch that was good enough to last Chloé throughout the rest of the school day without further incident so long as she was careful with it and didn’t get it caught in anymore lockers. Not her best work, but not bad for only having a ten euro travel kit on her.

Marinette was tying off the thread and cutting the excess when she felt Chloé lean in next to her to observe her work. Or rather, she felt Chloé’s breasts pressing against her arm in a way that would’ve felt intentional if not the for the fact that Chloé genuinely didn’t seem to realize how much of Marinette’s personal space she was taking up. “Wow. You’re kinda not awful at this.”

“Wow, you’re kinda welcome.” Marinette subtly moved two inches to her right and pulled the shirt rightside out again. “Alright. Try it on. Is it too tight?”

Chloé pulled the sleeves on but kept the shirt unbuttoned as she rolled her shoulders and lifted her arms up in the air. “Nope. Feels good to me.”

Marinette cleared her throat and wondered if it was rude to ask Chloé to hurry up and close her shirt already. “Well, I do this a lot. Aspiring designer and all that jazz.”

Chloé was about to start buttoning up her shirt, but she looked down at her chest and gasped at what she saw. “Oh dammit. Wait a minute. Do you have scissors?”

“Did I leave a thread loose?”

Chloé got closer and — oh for heaven’s sake — shoved her chest in Marinette’s face as she pointed to the center of her bra where a dark blue rose was embroidered. “I think there’s a loose string hanging off here. Do you see it?”

“Uhh….” Marinette swallowed and looked down to see a small bit of blue thread hanging right where the flower was sewn in. “Y-Yeah. This right here?”

“Yeah. Dammit, I think that’s because I was fiddling with it during class.”

Yeah, okay, so Marinette was going to do her best to not think about Chloé with her hand down her shirt and fingering the designs on her bra while sitting in class, staring at the board, and not realizing how many stares she was probably catching in the process.

“Do you want me to uh….cut it? I don’t have scissors but I have a seam ripper that might do the job if I’m careful.”

“Wasn’t pointing it out for my health, Marinette. Make it quick. I still need to switch out my books.”

Marinette dug through her bag for her seam ripper and had a little bit of a crisis when she realized that she was going to have to hold on to some part of Chloé in order to hold her steady and cut the thread. Her hand trembled when it reached out for Chloé’s shoulder and pulled her in closer. “I-I’m um….I need to kinda hold onto your….well….so I can cut it properly.”

Chloé got the message without Marinette having to say it and shrugged. “Go ahead.”

Marinette really hoped her blush wasn’t obvious because she could literally feel her cheeks heating up as she grabbed the center of Chloé’s bra. She felt the backs of her fingers brush up against the warm skin of Chloé’s breast as she tried to hook the seam ripper around the thread and snap it off as quickly as she could. This close, she could smell Chloé’s shampoo and Chloé’s perfume which certainly wasn’t helping her concentration and was actually making the warmth from her face start to pool deep in her chest and spread her flush to other parts of her body.

Luckily cutting a thread took a lot less time than fixing a seam, and Marinette backed away from Chloé as quickly as she could the minute she was done. “Alright, better?”

Chloé smiled. “Much. Not bad, Dupain-Cheng. You’re pretty good in a pinch.”

God Marinette really couldn’t get her eyes off of Chloé’s chest this was so freaking bad.

“Yeah, yeah it was no problem. Oh!” Marinette blinked when she saw one of Chloé’s bra straps hanging more loose on one shoulder than it was on the other. “Your straps are uneven.”

“Seriously?” Chloé looked over her shoulder to try and see for herself. “Shoot, could you fix them for me?”

Chloé didn’t wait for an answer as she spun around and lifted her hair to give Marinette access to fix the straps, and honestly, since when the hell were people’s backs attractive? Did Chloé work out? Were girls’ backs allowed to look this toned, lean, and perfect for running your hands up and down? How ridiculous was that?

Marinette tightened the offending strap and indulged herself by drumming her fingers against Chloe’s shoulder blades to let her know that she was done. As a finishing blow, Chloé cupped both of her breasts in her hands, lifted them up a little bit, and nodded as if she were deciding whether she was satisfied with how they looked. “What do you think? Better? Even?”

Perfect? Gorgeous? Smooth? Soft?

“Uh huh!” Marinette squeaked out.

“Brilliant.” Chloé finally — finally!!! — buttoned up her shirt right when the warning bell for next period started ringing through the building. Chloé cursed under her breath and quickly grabbed her coat and her bag. “Ugh, I still need to get to my locker and get my books. My literature teacher is gonna kill me if I’m late to her class again.” She was about to rush to the door and leave without saying a word before she stopped short and slowly turned around.

“Oh, wait a minute. I forgot.” She cleared her throat and spoke as if she were reading from a script. “Thank you for your help. Is there anything I can do for you in return?”

Marinette snorted. “Adrien’s really broken you in, hasn’t he?”

“Shut up.”

Marinette laughed, for the first time appreciating the fact that Chloé was at least putting in an effort. “How about a coffee first thing tomorrow morning and we can call it even?”

Chloé smirked. “I can do coffee.” She blew a kiss in Marinette’s direction and finally slipped out into the hallway. “Nice work, Dupain-Cheng. You’re officially my go-to for all future fashion disasters.”

Marinette let out a huge breath once Chloé was out of the room and slowly started to pack up her things, thoughts of girls and curves and soft things still running through her mind up until the moment she sat down next to Alya during their next class.

“Random question,” Marinette asked out of the blue. “Is it possible for boobs to make you feel all dizzy and lightheaded? Asking for a friend.”

Alya frowned and started looking through her bag. “Aw, are you on your period, babe? I have pain killers if you need them.”

“No, no. Not my boobs. Another person’s boobs.”

Alya furrowed her brows. “Any boobs that I know?”

Marinette covered her face with both hands and whined petulantly. “If I tell you, you have to promise not to laugh.”

[aharpiesmemoriesblog]

A Harpies Memories Chapter 4

A few Days have passed since they brought Maria to their apartment and at first Alfred thought it was a bad idea to bring the women they didn't even know here, but strangely enough it wasn't too bad even though he forgot how much non-vampire people need food and how they had to keep Maria in the dark of what they were so she won't freak out. It was no surprise that Maria had this 'first survive' attitude base on her first day falling asleep in the living room while Alfred and Ivan were still in the room not caring, even now she will do stuff mostly for her own needs, but She cleans a lot and keep everything neat and tidy which was a bigger surprise to Alfred and he even try to trick Maria to do his laundry, but she figure it out what’s he was doing and wasn't too happy about it by dragging him to the laundry mat down in the basement by his ear. Maria did talk but mostly to Alfred since she said that Ivan still creeps her out (which is no surprise). They still use the tablet to talk and learn that Maria lived in the Black Forest in Germany mostly because of the tourist that visit's there and how easy it is to take their money but only a few euro, and hide from Jake, but when winter was coming she decided to live in an abounded house until spring not thinking Jake will find her. It was annoying that the only way to talk was to use these tablets that have a short battery life. Alfred even tries to speak German to her, but she gave him weird looks and snicker at him when he tries to pounce words or form sentences. Ivan said that he orders something that will make Maria learn English but they had to wait for it to be ship in. So, they decided to find out what she is. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Later at night while Maria slept on the coach Alfred and Ivan were at the dinner table looking throw the Vampire database. "let’s list thing that we know that are not human traits down so we can narrow the search, first thing is that scream and her strength," Alfred said while typing the words in the tablet. “what about her albinism features, that could be something?" Ivan did not answer just look at the couch where Maria slept. 'way to make yourself more of a creep Ivan' Alfred thought to himself and thinking what else to put in the search tags. 'There was one thing I notice. her legs. when we first saw her and even now she has no hair on them maybe that could be something?' Alfred hit the search button waiting for the result that came up with more than a hundred hit. He lay the tablet down while rubbing his face signing with frustration. Ivan took the tablet from the table looking at what the search came up with. He was going down the list and noticed there were different species of elf listed. Ivan tries to change the tags on the search column but couldn't since he did not understand how to do it. He was never good with technology. He knew how to use the computer and email and that was it, unlike Alfred who could hack and code or decoded things. Alfred rubs his face and eye's causing his glasses to be perch on the top of his head still frustrated and letting his hands slid off his face while leaning on the back of his chair. He fixes his glasses and looks over at Ivan to which he had this annoyed confuse look on his face while trying to use the tablet causing Alfred to let out a small laugh. "Give me that before you break it, and what are you looking for?" Alfred took it out of Ivan's hand. "I saw different species of Elf that came up, she is not one" "How do you know?" "I've been around elves to know she has no of a characteristic of one." "It's hard to believe that you were 'around' anyone. So why Elves? Are their Elves in that frozen land of your?" "We don't have those elves, but I've been to Norway and Sweden when it was one of their festivals. She has no sharp canine, no pointed ears, and her eye's do not glow in the dark" "Actual no her eye's do glow in the dark. When at night when she thinks were asleep I see her sneaking to the fridge and taking one of my beer, and you’re not going to tell me why were you in Sweden?" "Nyet, but she still not elf" Alfred changes the search column to taking out any elf species but still put down the glowing eyes then hitting the search button. This time about 20 different searches came up which was an improvement. They went over the list and took out what they knew did not match until the finally had one that match. "We may have a hit. I think that she may be a 'Siren'" "Siren?" "Yes, a Siren. There are a lot of traits that match up. Like that loud scream or how hypnosis does not affect her. It said right here that 'Siren are known to sing beautiful songs that lure people into a trances that affect the mind of the host by brainwashing them to do their own command, but when in danger they will release a high pitch scream that can shatter glass' and "Sirens can transform to a human form if they wanted too, but some features will stay like their ability to see in the dark that case their eye to glow'" "What about her strength? I've never seen Siren with strength like that." "It doesn't really say anything about strength, but listen to this 'Siren come in all different color of their skin and their scales, but they follow a color chart that governs their class. The lighter color is determined to be stronger and higher up' which seems like a weird racist cult thing but siren is weird anyway so there no surprise. Anyway, it goes on about color until this part that says 'Albinism is a blessing in the siren race and is considered the highest of the class chart and are treated like royalty' which may explain why Jake kidnapped her and wash her memories. A high demand from her rich family could get you things and no memory of how to get home, or he turns her into an albino siren to get her in the royal class and try to brain wash her to control her." There was something that did seem to fit, but it still seems off. Like why a Siren. Yes, you can get money and power by holding a rich siren for ransom but there are others that have more power, but it was the only thing they had. "Well, at least we got something. I'm going out and get food for princess over there since it's almost morning." Alfred got up and walk to the door where he left his jacket hanging on the wall coat rack. He left while shutting the door leaving Ivan alone with Maria. Ivan walks over to where Maria lay and watch her face in a peaceful sleep. She looks much better now since they found her. Her sunken cheeks, weak body, and dark circles under her eyes were gone and left was a white skin that had a pink hue to her full cheeks, the folds of her eye, and her lips that were full and soft. Ivan stared at her then left her alone to go to his room. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Maria started to get agitated later in the day. Yes, she had a place to stay with food, shower, and a place to sleep, but she still did not know what’s going on. The one thing she hated the most is being in the dark about something. She should have the right to know who is this Jake was and why did he make her life a stressful hell for the past year. "I need a smoke," Maria said to herself Maria looked around the room and spotting Ivan jacket that was hanging on the coat rack. Looking around to see if Ivan was still in his room Maria got up and went to his jacket. She was not sure if Ivan was a smoker or not but right now she needs a smoke badly and if he didn't have a pack at least she can get some money and go down to a corner store and get a cheap pack. She searches in the inner pocket and hit pay dirt when she felt the cardboard box and a lighter. "I don't think he'll mind if I smoke a few of these" Maria said while getting her shoes on, but before leaving she pulled a white hoodie on that was too big for her and almost cover up her black shorts. She pulled the hood over her head not caring to tuck her hair in the hoodie and put the carton and lighter in her pocket while walking out the door. she walked to the back entrance that she and Ivan use when she first got here. It was still daytime out sided which made the creepy dark alleyway not as creepy as she remembers, and the springtime air made it nice and cool outsides. Using a piece of concrete she found and place it between the door so it wouldn't close all the way and lock her out. She leans on the right side of the wall next to the door flicking the pack open causing one of the cigarette to get out. She took it in her mouth and put the pack back to her pocket while getting the lighter out. It took a few try to get the damn thing to light but she got it and took a drag letting the tobacco filling her lungs and the feeling of nicotine going through her body causing the agitation disappear blissfully. leaning on the wall still smoking while having the cigarette between her index finger and middle finger using her thumb to flick on the end of the cigarette causing the ash from the other end to fall off She thought of the two men. The American reminded her of somewhat of a kid. Very boastful, energetic, and a know-it-all. It was enduring and entertaining but can get a little annoying. He was the one that she mostly talks to. The Slavic was another story. At first, it was hard to read him, but after a few days, she learns how to read his emotion a little bit base on Alfred interacting with him. When he's irritated or annoyed, he clinches one of his hand and has this dark glint in his eye, when he's happy or entertain his eyes seem to light up, but there is this one look that he has that she sees when he thinks she not paying attention or not looking. He has this stare that makes him look like he in a deep thought while having this sad longing look on his face. This look creeps her out the most. Maria finishes the cigarette by dropping it on the floor and using her shoe to put it out. She got another one from the carton and lite it up while still thinking of Alfred and Ivan. She knew that both are not human base on her interaction with them, but what are they? She been living at their place for a few days now and yet never see them eat anything. Yes, Ivan was mostly in his room and he may eat in there and Alfred may have gone out and eaten when he was bringing food back for her, but why not eat with her or even in the same room? There not even food in the fridge just beer or alcohol, but there was a Styrofoam box in there one time. She was about to open it when Alfred took it out of her hand and lead her to the Landry mat saying he needs help with the clothes and the next day the box was gone. He had this worry look on his face but he tries to hide it with his young boy charm. I ask him later what was in the box but he said It was old food he left in the fridge and he forgot to throw away because they mostly eat out. she did not believe it. The door opening interrupted her thoughts. Ivan steps out without his jacket but wearing jeans that were stain with a different color of paint, his scarf, and a black short sleeve shirt. When he spotted Maria he just signs, shook his head, and smile. "красивые женщины не должны курить. это не хорошо для них." He said while taking the cigarette out of Maria mouth smiling. "What? I don't understand and give that back!" I try to reach for his hand where he holds the cigarette above my head but he was too tall and his thick upper body was hard to reach around it. I felt like a small kid that got their toy stolen by an older kid. "Вы не изменились после того, как все эти годы." Then he pulled my hood over my eyes and pat my head. This Weirdo is treating me like a kid. When I pulled the hood up I saw him with my cigarette in his mouth smoking. He took a long deep drag then exhale the smoke from the mouth in a thick cloud that formed around his head. When he was done, he drops the cigarette on the floor the rub it out with his foot. He put his hand on my back and guided my insides. Nothing to do I complied with him as we enter the apartment I started to walk to the couch until I heard Ivan cleared his throat. I turn around and see him looking at me. I made 'what?' motion with my shoulder not knowing what he wanted. Then he holds out his hand palm up. It took me a moment then I remember what’s was in my pocket so I dug it out and gave it to him. I remove my hoodie sit on the couch while Ivan was at his jacket. I turn on the TV and flipped through the channel knowing I could not understand anything but I was bored and there nothing to do. Suddenly I felt the couch dip next to me. Ivan was sitting next to me which never happened before. I did not know what to do so I just set the channel to the news a try to watch it with the weirdo right next to me. Ivan watches the new with me not saying a word but seem content with himself. Where is the hell, Alfred?

[ss3890]

My Darling Little Starling

Sturnus Vulgaris  - I’m sure you’ve seen them, strutting around in gangs with their pointed beaks, stocky legs, and black plumage mottled with “stars”.  They’re an enthusiastic insectivore, eating pounds upon pounds of bugs. People curse them for their penchant to drive other species away and mob their feeders. They’re an invader, an unwanted pest. Legend tells it that they were brought over by avid fans of Shakespeare, who sought to introduce every bird mentioned in the writer’s works to America.  Sixty plus forty birds were released in New York’s Central Park and from there, they have spread and thrived throughout the country. 

European Starlings are much like the European settlers who made the land into today’s America, and whom I share ancestry with. Even though I should despise from a conservations standpoint,  perhaps that is why I cannot fully condemn the Euro-Now-American-Starling. I suppose it’s because we have a lot in common.

I don’t know how I ever discovered that some people kept them as pets, but I was immediately fascinated. (They are notorious mimics and are close relatives to Mynah Birds) Though it depends on individual State’s rules on whether you can keep them legally or not, Federally, Starlings are not protected under the Migratory Bird Treaty Act of 1918. You can possess their nests and eggs at any time without a permit and kill them indiscriminately.  The State of Nevada once attempted a mass genocide of Starlings that left an overwhelming decaying mess it’s citizenry had to deal with.  I had once tried to rob a nest to get one, without success - which was for the best. I was not ready nor in a place to take on such an adventure. Cue a year later, when I found a starving nestling crying and neglected on the ground. 

I’ve always been a sucker for animals it it came as a surprise to no one when I took “Momo” under my wing.

I travel weekly to work for an Ambulance service and stay away from home three days a week. I work nights, and when coming off a tiring shift I recall hearing a bird crying just outside of our large ambulance bay. In need of sleep, I went into the crew room and slept the day away.

I awoke again that evening and got myself showered and dressed for the next shift. For whatever reason, I decided I needed to pluck my eyebrows, of all things, and had to go to my car to do it. (I kept losing my tweezers in my travels and left a pair in the car so I knew where they were.) I went out, did my thing, and realized I still heard the same crying from before - a demanding, desperate yell asking anyone to listen. Compelled by it’s urgency, I sought it out.

I was led toward the side of the building, under an eve I had seen Starlings nesting in. A large utility had been parked underneath it. Careful steps and open ears led me around to the far wheel well. I bent over, looked beneath,and saw the source of the crying - a palm-sized nestling who had fallen, or been pushed, out of her nest before her time.  A shocked cry ran out from my throat, and, without a second thought, I scooped to nestling up and cupped her in my palm. I brushed little red ants from her body and held her close to my chest. I knew it was she I had heard this morning, and that she was in desperate need of food, water, and warmth. 

To add insult to injury, someone had pooped on her head. 

She was a fighter from the start. It’s hard not to be impressed at how nestlings can survive such a fall - but she had also cried her  heart out ll day, suffered ant bites, and crawled her way under the trailer to get out of the hot sun, which had to have been at least a 1-2ft crawl from where she fell. She survived my naiveté and lack of resources the first night I found her. I had nothing but bread and finely chopped hotdogs soaked in water to feed her at first.  Nothing but tupperware and a towel  and my own body heat to keep her warm with. When I wasn’t running calls, I sat in the ambulance with her and held her close to me. She slept through the night, and demanded to be fed every 25-30 minutes during the day. I fed her dutifully, without complaint. 

I did a lot of self-educating in a matter of days. The website Starling Talk was, and still is, a valuable resource. She got a heated aquarium and proper formula and quickly began to recover from her period of neglect. 

When I cupped her in my hands, it made me realize just how easily I could crush her between my fingers - to snuff her out without effort. That would have been the easy way out - what society promotes you to do. But instead, I used my hands to warm and feed and soothe - to nurture this little life, and it has been in incredible honor to watch her grow from a helpless nub of pin-feathered flesh into a mischievous, agile, cuddly pest whom I love with all my heart.

Two weeks old -

How I would carry her around before she could fly -

Videos:

https://youtu.be/vPC_eN-wgsU

https://youtu.be/p1eYuhr_MGI

https://youtu.be/4I_s2mVkuX8

https://youtu.be/zWjg5O2JDGA

https://youtu.be/npsel-Mc7Gc

Travelers -

Since she isn’t weaned, I have to take her with me when I travel. I built her a proper cage and took her to the vet for a check-up - I didn’t bat an eye at any expense she demanded. We eventually got kicked out of base and my commute has become even longer and more complicated in order to keep her with me - but I wouldn’t do otherwise. My miserable commutes are now filled with her singing and antics and cuddling and they are just that much more bearable. She just turned 7-weeks old this Monday and has began to molt into her big girl feathers.  

Momo - “Little Bird” at six and a half weeks of age -

Juveniles are often dismissed for their brown and unassuming plumage, but if you look closely in the sunlight, you can see the iridescent green on her primaries, her tan-lined feathers, her pretty white throat, and mottled chest. Her eyes are a stunning gray-blue, and her pupil is rimmed with a rich, chocolate brown. 

Her adult plumage will be breathtaking and I can’t wait to see it.

I never get bored of watching her - she has been an absolute joy and a remarkable experience.

[gourmet4living]

A Walk Through English History

Gourmet Living News

Editor’s Note:   This is a reprint of a Blog Post about London Walks published a year ago on a sister site, GourMay.net, which documents one of our trips to Great Britain.  Slightly irreverent,  this blog post is pitched more to our family than readers of Gourmet Living.  Nevertheless, it has some useful suggestions for those travelling to the UK, particularly London.

We love the rich history of England and the somewhat demanding landscape which keeps anxious travellers on the look for what new exciting adventure awaits around the next turn.

QUOTE

I am addicted to London Walks.  There is simply no better way to “see” London than engage in a theme-centered two-hour walk through London (and other UK locations) with an informed guide.

Choose a themed walk from their extensive daily schedule.  Then show-up at the appointed time at the proper exit of a London underground station.  Assemble with others around an easily identifiable guide.  Pay the £10 fee (£ 8 for seniors) and off you go.

No need to make a reservation.  If you are in reasonable shape and plan carefully, you can manage two walks in a day with plenty of time for a pub lunch break.

These walks keep the “little gray cells” active and also provide a motivating reason to engage your legs rather than the gears of your automobile.   Also, be prepared for some wonderful surprises on your journey through history.

Found below are some of our recent walks on this year’s walk-about in London:

Brunel’s London

Frankly, I knew very little about Marc Brunel who designed and constructed the first underwater tunnel (under the Thames) in 1852.   Originally designed as an underwater pedestrian shopping arcade connecting, the tunnel has given way to a subway that moves people from south of the Thames toward the City of London.

Actually, it is called the “London Overground” even though most of trains run underground.  As the guide said, “Americans may find this a bit confusing, but the fact that the overground actually runs underground is perfectly understandable for those who live in London.”

Marc Brunel’s Thames tunnel is considered to be the 8th engineering marvel in the world.  In addition to the tunnel, Marc Brunel built several wonderful bridges and his son, Isambard, built the Great Western Railway and was a far more successful businessman than his father.

I will spare you details of this most informative walk, which also includes a boat trip up the Thames toward Greenwich (minor surcharge) and a visit to the Brunel museum, which is housed in the shaft of the Thames tunnel near Rotherhithe.

The Old Jewish Quarter

This is a superb tour of the now fashionable “East London”  and the footprints left by Jewish settlers on the City of London.  The highlight of the tour for me was a short but fascinating history lesson of life of Moses Montefiore, one of the world’s truly great philanthropists.

This is a most special walk and I would encourage all to give it a try.  Found below is what your will discover on this walk:

Traces the history of London’s Jewish community in the East End. A tale that embraces the poverty of the pogrom refugees and the glittering success of the Rothschilds; the eloquence of Prime Minister Disraeli and the spiel of the Petticoat Lane stall-holder; the poetry of Isaac Rosenberg and the poetry-in-motion of Abe Saperstein’s Harlem Globetrotters. Set amid the alleys and back streets of colorful Spitalfields and Whitechapel, it’s a tale of synagogues and sweatshops, Sephardim and soup kitchens. Whenever possible we visit the historic Bevis Marks synagogue (for which there’s a small entrance fee).

Behind Closed Doors

A most interesting walk which ends up at the Royal Courts on Fleet Street, just across the street from the Twinings Tea (Shop/Museum):

This lively walk is summarized below:

For a walk that shakes you gently, like a sieve, and drops you into places of long ago – places you probably wouldn’t get into off your own bat. Into’s the mot juste. We’re going into these places. Into the venerable – and passing strange – RAF church. Into the Royal Courts of Justice to watch a trial (when the Royal Courts are in session). Into an ancient institution shrouded in secrecy.

After a long walk, there is nothing better than a refreshing pint of bitter.  Personally, we prefer the nearby majestic Old Bank of England (Fullers pub) over the more touristy but popular Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese.  The steak and ale and fish pies at the Old Bank of England are among the best we have tasted in England.  Ditto for the fish and chips (with mushy peas) and the warm chocolate brownie.

London’s Secret Village

In my opinion, this is one of the most interesting walks of unexplored London.   Gosh, there is so much to see and learn.  From the grisly public executions in Smithfield market to St. John of Jerusalem and the Charterhouse, this is a delightful and educational tour.

If ends at Farmington Station where the world’s first underground ends (from Paddington Station) near Smithfield in 1863.  In fact, for 5 years you could take a picnic hamper on the Tube and watch a public execution, which only ended in 1868.

This is a gem of walk, particularly if you want to stump friends and family with interesting trivia questions:

The ancient, hidden village of Clerkenwell clings to a hillside barely a stone’s throw away from St. Paul’s Cathedral. Its very name – the clerks’ or students’ spring – is redolent of antiquity. And this tiny hamlet serves up brimming draughts from the deep well of its history. Mystery plays and plague pits; riots and rookeries; bodysnatching and bombing; jousting and jesters; bloodshed and burnings; monks, murder, and medicine: Clerkenwell has a tale or two to tell. Tracing its narrow alleyways and ancient squares, we take in here a Norman church; there a magnificent Tudor gateway; round that corner venerable Charterhouse, London’s only surviving mediaeval monastic complex; let alone Hercule Poirot’s London flat and the trendiest house in town.

David Suchet, aka Hercule Poirot, apparently mastered his distinctive walk by holding a coin between his “cheeks.”  The guide suggests that it was a 50 pence coin.  Personally, I think the coin was a Euro since Poirot would have voted to remain in Europe.

Past the Palace

This walk is for those who speed-read The National Enquirer and Tabloids in the checkout line at grocery stores.  I loved it!

This one isn’t on the balcony – it’s through the keyhole. It’s hideaways and nooks and crannies and boltholes with a difference: they’re royal hideaways, boltholes, nooks and crannies. It’s where the goings on went down. It’s kings who were queens. It’s 16 coffin bearers, beheaded lovers and a questionable birthright. It’s a square coffin, a fake lesbian wedding and “a bat instead of a woman”. It’s curses and betrayals, heartaches and hearth-aches and unhealthy habits. It’s ugly sisters and poisonous makeup and war and head lice. It’s between the kings’ sheets and a cabinet particulaire and a royal brothel. It’s £40 million of debt, swinging parties, debauchery and treachery. It’s unofficial history, real history.

In Summary

I realize that it is easy to get caught up in the hysteria of the moment, but if we reflect a moment on the history of past generations, one must certainly come to the conclusion that our forefathers were dealing with equally disturbing problems.

Walking through the rich and fascinating history of London helps to restore a sense of equanimity and balance to our lives.  Good Lord, I sound like a bloody Stoic!

UNQUOTE

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[blancagriswold]

Please Help Our Boobless Bride Dawn And Her Family

If you followed Dawn’s Bride to Be ‘Boobless Bride’ Diary posts last year, you will know what an incredibly terrifying and heartbreaking journey she has been on.  You will have also read how her & Steve’s love story went viral and was seen online by millions.

Today, It is with a very heavy heart I write this post.

I’ve sat here for hours trying to find the right words but nothing seems to be working. The tears just roll.

My Cwtch Girls are like sisters to me, best friends, the bridesmaids I never had. The success of Cwtch The Bride has never been down to me. It’s these incredible women that work with me. We all ride this wave together. So when one of my Cwtch Girls are hurt, so am I.

Owen Mathias Photography

Last week we were given some devastating news that left us all numb. We didn’t really know how to process it. We cried, we sat there speechless and felt utterly helpless. I wanted to scream and post angry statuses across the blog but I couldn’t find the words. We also needed to get Cwtchfest out of the way before we shared this.

Our brave and inspiring Boobless Bride Dawn had found a new lump. For anyone, finding a lump of any kind is scary. However, When you’ve already battled triple negative Breast Cancer, lost both breasts and survived… this lump brought with it a terrifying new fear.

Dawn let me feel the lump. It was small, about the size of a Cadbury mini egg (sorry… theres a bag of them on my desk and it’s the only thing I can see that’s similar in size). This lump isn’t going away either. It brought with it the devastating news that her cancer is back. Only this time, its worse….it’s incurable and doctors have told her she may only have two years left.

Please let that sink in for a moment. TWO YEARS!

Today, I’m asking for your help. I’m sharing Dawn & Steve’s beautiful wedding again which I had the honour of photographing. They haven’t even celebrated their first wedding anniversary yet.  I want you all to look at each and every photograph and think about how special every moment of this day is. The beauty of life is not seen in staged photographs, its in the everyday moments. The laughter, the tears, the things we don’t realise we take for granted. Our Time.

We all know a wedding day is special yet i’m now learning just how special EVERY day is. Every moment we get to share with loved ones is precious, we just don’t realise how much until we’re told our time is being taken away.

Dawn has two beautiful Daughters Imogen & Maddie whom I’ve gotten to know very well. What makes this all the more heartbreaking is that the girls father (Dawn’s ex), is in the advanced stages of Huntingtons Disease (a progressive brain disorder) and the children are facing the prospect of losing both parents before their teenage years. (This breaks my heart)

Maria Farrelly Photography

How can we help?

A Just Giving page has been set up for Dawn and her family. If there is one thing you could do for her right now, Its donate what you can to help fund some very special memories her children need to make with her right now. In the past week (thanks to donations),  Dawn has has already been able to start creating happy memories with her girls. The media are also following this story and helping to raise awareness. But we need to do more.

Dawn asked me to photograph her entire family together last saturday, it was something very important to her. She wanted me to create some fabulous images of her family together before her chemo starts and she loses her hair. (Damn that was so hard to write) I’ll be sharing the images very soon.

Helen from Do you Believe invited Dawn & Imogen into the boutique to try on some wedding dresses. A special moment every daughter cherishes with their mother.

We are planning to organise something very special for Dawn and are asking all our readers and fabulous wedding businesses to come forward and work with us on this. If you’d like to get involved please email us directly here and don’t forget to donate

PLEASE HELP US TO HELP DAWN x

Many thanks,

Maria x 

Real Weddings: Our Boobless Bride Dawn, and Steve’s Perfect Day

Maria Farrelly got to witness their day, and capture it, makes it even more wonderful.

What was your budget? 

We need to keep the costs as low as possible as I have been off work for over 18 months.  But realistically I think it came in at around £7,000.

How would you describe your wedding theme?

As you already know I have been battling breast cancer for almost 2 years now. In August 2015 I was awaiting very serious scan results to see if the cancer had spread.  A terminal diagnosis would have overshadowed any future plans, I had always wanted to take the children to Disney so thought – right now, I am not terminally ill so would embrace the opportunity to have a carefree time with my girls.  So, with one of my closest friends Marie and her daughter Isabella in tow, we headed off to Euro Disney. Although it should have been the most frightening time of my life, somehow I barely thought of the scan results.  The magic of Disney completely consumed us and we had the best time. One of the days we were there, the children were playing in the Alice and Wonderland Maze.  I can remember feeling so full of love, hope and determination – after all I have so much to live for.  So, when Steve proposed to me it just seemed absolutely right for the theme to be Alice in Wonderland. Not only was it such a positive memory for me with the children, it married well with my love of vintage clothes and big Petticoats! What was your favourite part of your wedding?

I know this is going to sound ridiculously cheesy but for me the best part of the wedding was having all of my loved ones and friends with us to celebrate not only the wedding but getting through the previous 18 months.  It felt like both families really united and all our friends came together to have one hell of a party.  The band were incredible… everyone danced the whole night long.

However, there were two moments that were particularly special for me on the day…

I organised a balloon release in memory of my father.  All guests had a balloon with a label on saying a guests name, the details of the wedding and an email address to tell us how far the balloon had travelled. All of my friends and loved ones gathered on the golf course, each holding a different coloured balloon in memory of his name. Instead of crying I stood proud and watched every balloon slowly float to the clouds – hoping that my dad would see them pass by. Unknown to me at the time, the guests were eagerly trying to find out who had their balloon and it acted as an ice breaker and became their favourite part too.  I would never have dreamed when I planned this part of the wedding that it would become the most special part for me. Each balloon symbolised hope, love and freedom.  It was not sinister or morbid, it was a happy moment with my father close in my thoughts and resulted in one of my favourite photos of the day.

The second moment that was particularly special to me was captured by Maria.  Steve was saving for a VW Camper before he met me, I kind of ruined his plans.  Instead of a vehicle symbolic of freedom and carefree life, he bought an engagement ring and wedding symbolic of restriction and responsibility.  So I decided, I wouldn’t have a stuffy wedding car.  I would hire a vintage VW camper.  So I started ringing around and all of the companies I spoke to quoted over £600 to simply pick me up and take me to the first venue.  So then I discovered ‘Split the Difference’.  A couple who manage a company that hire out VW Campervans.  For the same money I could hire the camper…for a week!!!!  Bosh!!!!  Wedding car and honeymoon sorted in one go.  So… mad you may think, the day before the wedding.  Beth and I (my Maid of Honour) set off from Newport to Wrexham to collect ‘Jessie’ our beautiful camper.  A very slow and long journey home was worth every second when I saw Steve’s face when we came out of the ceremony.  It was sheer delight.  A magical moment.

Tell us about your Wedding Dress

Choosing a wedding dress was always going to be a difficult part of the wedding planning for me. When I met Steve I was a size 12, long legs, beautiful hair (extensions cough cough) and excuse me for being crude but as Steve said “a great rack”. But here I was newly engaged, a size 20, completely bald – not even an eyelash and no breasts. I thought it would be impossible to find anything that I would feel beautiful in. But my sister-in-law was fantastic she came to shop after shop in a bid to find this miraculous dress that in essence would replicate the powers of the Harry Potter invisibility cloak. You know… make me feel thin, attractive and sexy – all the things I did not. I came out of every bridal shop feeling exactly the same; deflated, insecure and reluctant to continue looking. Then Beth reminded me of how wonderful Helen at Do you believe? in Newport had been when she married my brother. So we headed to Helen in a bid to find a wedding dress like no other.

Immediately Helen made me believe that not only could we find a beautiful dress but one that would meet my very obscure specification. Tea length dress with a vintage feel that would nip in at the waist, have a high neck to hide my prosthetics and sleeves that would enable me to cover my arms as the Lymphedema swelling is very unpredictable…. oh and more importantly would go with my beautiful blue petticoat that I bought at the vintage Fair in Cardiff.  Helen didn’t feel that she had anything that match this criteria, however this was not going to stop Helen giving me that bridal moment. Together we designed my dress – a completely bespoke dress. We chose the style together, the lace, the embellishment and I simply knew that she would give me a beautiful dress. Everything was going beautifully and as with all perfectly laid plans we hit a problem. Where I’ve had the mastectomy fat pockets collect in the most bizarre and unusual of places so imagine my surprise when I have my final fitting and discover my body has miraculously started to grow its own breasts!!!! On my bloody back!!! That’s right – my dress is done up and from the front I look beautiful… but…I turn around and there hanging over the back of my dress are what can only be described as two of the biggest boobs I have ever seen made from back fat. So as you can imagine the meltdown began. Helen with the help of Val at House of Couture in Maindee set about hiding my new assets.  They removed the cap sleeves, found a lace bolero and added embellishment to the edge of my dress to match.  Before I knew it I was feeling more confident again. I would be lying if I told you that I didn’t wish I was a size 10 with long flowing hair a beautiful waistline and an ample bosom, but with all things considered I felt as beautiful as I ever could have felt on the day and that was all thanks to Helen going above and beyond what was required of her. I was absolutely delighted when Helen agreed to be a guest at the wedding because truly I went into her bridal shop a customer and came out a dear friend.

Who did you pick as your bridesmaids &/or best man and why?

Picking the bridesmaids was probably one of the most difficult tasks for me when it came to the wedding.  How could you choose a select few when so many had been wonderful to me over the years.  One thing that I did know, I wanted my sister-in-law Beth to be my Maid of Honour, she has become more like a sister to me over recent years and would keep me calm on the day.  But how do I chose the bridesmaids?  There’s Cath – the bestie that went all through school with me and shared many a night on MD 20/20 with me in Caerleon? Boon -who went all through college with me, can make me laugh in any situation and is yet to have a boyfriend with an actual name!?  Pirate!? ASDA!? Millionaire Guy?!  No idea what any of them were actually called… go figure. Jodie – who was there when I had a complete melt down and stayed sober enough to make sure my antics came back to bite me in the bum. Emma – my partner in crime on school trips who is my rock when it comes to the children or Lindsay who swam across the river Thames with me after a drunken night as it looks like a shortcut. I mean how can you choose from such a high calibre of Friends lol? Simple really…. I asked them all!!!  Now don’t get me wrong there could have been so many more as so many of my friends have been an incredible support over the years but most of them were married and it made sense that they could sit in the congregation with their husbands. So that what it… my 6 Single Sisters would be asked to be my bridesmaids.

Now for the flower girls…well we’ve got three children between us Imogen, Madeleine and Yvie and I couldn’t leave out Ngaire and Isabella who are like daughters to me, so the bridal party doubled in size. I know what you’re thinking… more people are going to walk down the aisle than be seated but that’s a luxury of it being MY wedding… I can do just as I please – so I did.

As for the best man it was a simple choice for Steve.  He asked his lifelong friend and advisor Mike.  Mike was given the job of embarrassing Steve and boy did he do a brilliant job of that. He provided one of the best speeches I’ve ever heard –  and he tucked me up beautifully by quoting some of my face book posts during our time together.  All based around food which poo poo’d my theory that the weight gain was solely down to steroids during treatment.  Damn him lol.

Why did you choose your venue?

The Venue for us was very easy. When I was going through treatment we would go to Bellevue Park in Newport a couple of times a week to feed the squirrels. It was just about all I could manage but it was a beautiful location, the children absolutely loved finding squirrels and we enjoyed amazing food and drinks in the cafe. We became good friends with Matt and his team at Parc Pantry and new immediately this would be where the ceremony will be held.

When we started to put invites together it was quite apparent that congregation was going to be too big to fit in this venue for the whole day so looked for an evening venue. We Struck Gold when we found Tredegar Park Golf Club.  Not only were the grounds absolutely breath-taking, but Neil and Kim were absolutely exceptional from start to finish. Although they had never done it before, they accommodated an afternoon tea as the wedding breakfast and purchased vintage crockery to make the tables look authentic.  The food was plentiful, cakes as fresh as if they had just come out of a bakery and the hog roast was a massive hit. The function room is beautiful, big windows overlooking the course and exposed beams giving a wonderful ambience and we even got to sit with Neil for an hour at the end of the night and share what a wonderful time we had. I cannot recommend both venues more highly – they truly made it a magical day.

Tell us about your photographer

I’ve been very fortunate when planning my wedding, things just seemed to fall into place.  Not only was I able to enjoy all the girlie aspects of planning it, but I actually met a number people that have gone on to be really good friends. None more so than your very own Cwtch Queen, Maria Farrelly.  When a friend of mine Amy recommended I entered the competition to join Cwtch The Bride as a ‘Bride to Be’ contributor, I never dreamt that I would not only win, but meet an incredible group of women. I found in Maria a kindred spirit, we instantly hit it off and I found writing the blogs not only purposeful but therapeutic. When Maria when I started talking more we realised we had a lot in common and although women follow cwtch from all areas in Wales, we actually lived very close to each other… so we met up and have grown closer friends ever since.

At this point I did have a photographer booked but fate stepped in and my photographer called to explain they had been double booked. Immediately I got in touch with Maria in hope that she may be available. Maria had very few dates available so it was looking unlikely that this would be an option, however I truly believe it was just meant to be as she was indeed available on the 28th of May. Without even looking at any of her photographs of portfolio I booked her. I am a people person and knew instantly I wanted her involved in the day and trusted that she would give us the most beautiful photos.  More importantly she understood my body confidence issues and could help me work through that on the day – and I wasn’t disappointed. She made us feel relaxed and was the professional throughout.  At no point did it feel staged or uncomfortable – in fact at some point I don’t even remember her being there.  She disappeared into the shadows and captured every moment beautifully.  The only thing I regret is that because she was so busy working on the day she was unable to really celebrate with me.  She is a dear friend of mine now and I would have liked her to have been there as a guest.

How did the proposal happen? 

Well, unknown to me, Steve has tried on 4 different occasions to propose, but because I had just had the all clear and the kids were off school – I kept bringing the girls along to our ‘date day’ – oops.  So eventually Stephen put his foot down – “I haven’t had a day on my own with you since your ‘all clear’ so we need some ‘us’ time.  I agreed, and we decided to celebrate by climbing pen-y-fan, it would be symbolic of the journey we have climbed.  True Welsh style, it hammered down with rain. Someone got struck by lightning up there during the last storm so we both agreed that I have danced with the devil lately as it is so this would be stupid.  So instead we would head to Neath Waterfalls.  8 Miles we walked – 4 waterfalls later and a beautiful day had by all.  Soaked through we went back to the car, changed into dry clothes and went into a little hikers pub.  We had a beautiful meal and I said – as if setting the moment “this is a beautiful pub, warm, lovely and full of character – if I ever get married again I’m going to take up hiking to shift the weight” with that he said – best start walking then and put a little black box – not the type that find aeroplanes – this is the one that finds tears, immediately.  Tears rolling down my cheek he asked if I would marry him – of course I said yes.

But this is not the real story of the proposal – the real story is how I ruined the intended proposal.  Picture this – beautiful waterfall, full as it was raining so heavily, no one around, beautiful sounds of wildlife active in the storm…I’m stood on a little bridge gazing into the waterfall.  Steve walks to me, puts his arm around me (in his head this is the moment) – “Dawn” Steve said… “Yes babes” I said…. then before he could say another word I interrupt him – I’m known for it, I’m an excitable person – to advise him that I would like to head back to the car soon as I’m that wet my pants are soaking and its chaffing my arse.  NOOOOOOO!!!!! Moment killed…so that was the end of the beautiful waterfall proposal.  Oops.  But to be honest, it makes the whole ordeal more ‘me-like’.

Any DIY stories/tutorials you’d like to share?

For me the little touches in a wedding are what makes it special. So I spent hours making little bits and pieces that would make the difference on the table. I ordered off eBay bags of little brass keys and painstakingly tied luggage labels to them for name cards that would complement the theme. I also wrapped all the cutlery in beautiful little Ribbons embroidered with mine and Steve’s name and the date of the wedding.

One of my bridesmaids Lindsay also made beautiful favours for me which really added to the impact of the Alice and Wonderland theme.  Little mini eggs in jars with ‘eat me’ labels and small shot bottles with ‘drink me’ – everyone commented on how beautiful they were.

I designed vintage themed name labels and used Microsoft Excel to mail merge them so that they could be printed on mass in a few minutes.  Ladies – MAIL MERGE IS THE WAY FORWARD – it saved me hours, was the best thing I did. Finally, the centrepieces I made myself by simply collecting old vintage books from car boot sales and tying them in hessian and lace. I couldn’t have been happier with my tables and my boss was so impressed he tried to convince me that there was a career in wedding planning for me!!!

What was your first dance & why?

When Stephen I first started getting serious it was a standing joke that he wouldn’t say he loved me – just that he tolerated me more than anyone else he had ever met.  This went on to him saying he would write his own vows as he could not commit to ‘til death us do part’ as he had no way of knowing what the future held.  (Of course this is all bants)  But it seemed only fitting to have a song that was special for us bad had the underlying tone of sarcasm that Steve is renowned for. So there was only really one choice it had to be Beach Boys, God Only Knows – Steve was a keen Surfer in his youth and I genuinely would not have got through the relentless treatment and surgery without him, so I really don’t know what I would be without him. Plus the first line said ‘I may not always love you’ anyone that knows Stephen would find this funny. So we both started the first dance, awkwardly swaying back and forth singing to each other at top pelt ‘I MAY NOT ALWAYS LOVE YOU and sobbing by the ‘God only knows what I’d be without you’ line… but found the children surrounding us in a circle – never one to miss an opportunity I pulled the kids into our dance and our romantic moment became the ‘Okey Kokey’.  It was amazing.

In hindsight, was there anything you would have done differently?

In hindsight the only thing that I would have done differently was not wait so long to get married (although 9 months sounds a short engagement in our situation we should have seized the day). We waited until May hoping that my father would have overcome his treatment for leukaemia, little did we know that by waiting that few extra months, my father would not be there.  And that truly breaks my heart.

Do you have any advice for future couples?

The best bit of advice I can give to future couples is…don’t get so pulled into the obsessive perfectionism of the day and lose the significance of why you are there in the first place.  Enjoy every second the day will be over in a flash.  Stephen and I had a good 90 minutes to leisurely have photos taken, but we were in our own golf buggy travelling across the golf course which gave us time to enjoy the moment together before the ‘mingling’ and ‘drinking’ began.   We were completely loved up in that moment. I think every bride and groom should time at least an hour alone – not surrounded by photographers and caterers and bridesmaids but the two of you alone in love – time to … just be.

What’s the best piece of marriage advice you received?

I’m not sure this is a piece of marriage advice but it is my mantra – the way I keep positive and happy… with a little Dawnism thrown in for good measure. Live every moment – Don’t waste time arguing, say your piece and move on. Laugh everyday – Get pleasure in those little moments (I recommend Alphabet dating) Love beyond words – Don’t assume they know, tell them every day. And dance like nobody’s watching – Don’t worry what other people think… dance together in the rain!

What was your favourite thing about planning a wedding?

The best part for me about planning the wedding was meeting so many amazing people along the way. Although I went to them as a client I genuinely felt I met friends – I have already mentioned so many but there was Molly – the lead singer of The Supers.  They were an incredible band that got everyone dancing, completely adjusted their running order to fit around the beautiful weather and played like their life depended on it.  Lucy and the Girls that had 11x hair and makeup to do in one morning…what an accomplishment and great fun. Pat and Paul who let us use Jessie and made the most beautiful bouquet as decoration inside, Neil at AJC Cardiff who designed and created the most beautiful engagement and wedding ring, Elisa who designed the table plan, Hilary at Hilarys flowers who produced the most beautiful Top Table pieces using cake stands… too many to name everyone but thank you all the same.  I just seemed to experience such kindness and generosity – One lady on ebay for example… I sent her a picture from Pinterest of a setting I was trying to recreate…she went to the length of folding about 30 different napkins in the exact way I showed her, with cutlery, photographed them and sent the pics to me so I could see what went best with the crockery I had.  It must have taken her hours… all because she wanted to do her bit to make my day special.  It’s completely restored my faith in humanity because it’s easy to only remember the idiots that plague your day.

The Suppliers

Photographer:  Maria Farrelly Ceremony Venue: Belle Vue Parc, Newport (Parc Pantry) Reception Venue: Tredegar Park Golf Club Bride’s Dress:  Helen’s own Label, Do You Believe? Bride’s Shoes: Elegant Steps Bride’s Headpiece:  Val, House of Couture Bride’s Jewellery:  A locket my dad gave my mum Groom’s Outfit: Slaters Bridesmaid’s Dresses: True Bride Bridesmaid’s Accessories: Etsy Cake: Emma Baker, The Retro Cake Company Flowers:  Hilary’s Flowers Hair: Beautilicious – Lucy Make Up: Beautilicious – Lucy Band: The Supers, Bristol Stationery: Elisa by Design Any Reception Decor/Props: Forever Bows Transport: Split the Difference Other:  MASSIVE THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO MADE OUR DAY SO SPECIAL

The Wedding Album

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